Gareth Dawson Series Box Set

by Nathan Burrows

  ‘No, just this one.’ Jimmy looked away as he said this, knowing that Dave would see that he was lying if he didn’t.

  ‘Okay, what is it you want to know?’ Dave asked, and Jimmy realised from his expression that it hadn’t worked.

  ‘Whatever you can tell me.’

  ‘Do you want me to just tell you, or walk you through it?’ Dave looked at Jimmy with a serious expression. ‘In case you find any other photos? Then you’ll know what to do?’

  ‘I’ve only got an old laptop,’ Jimmy replied, grateful to the young man for his sincerity. ‘I haven’t got any special software on it.’

  ‘Windows or Mac?’

  ‘It’s a MacBook.’

  ‘Good man. Right, first you open the photo in preview mode.’ He pointed at the screen. ‘Like this. Then click on Tools, and Show Inspector.’ Jimmy looked as a new window opened up to the side of Milly’s face. ‘Now, see these four tabs across the top? The first one’s just general information on the photo. Colour model, size, resolution, that sort of thing. Nothing useful, really. The next tab is the camera information. That’s got the date and time of the photograph.’

  Jimmy squinted at the screen to read the date. The picture had been taken a couple of weeks before Milly had disappeared. At almost eleven o’clock in the evening. But in the photograph, she looked as if she was about to leave the room, not stay the night. That didn’t fit with Jimmy’s unknown boyfriend theory.

  ‘Okay,’ Jimmy said. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Next tab is probably the most useful.’ Jimmy watched as Dave clicked on an area marked GPS on the window. Jimmy scanned over the text that came up briefly, but his attention was immediately drawn to a small map at the bottom of the window with a red pin in it. Even if it hadn’t had the word Norwich in bold black letters, Jimmy would have recognised the city’s road layout. He’d driven around enough times in his bin lorry. ‘Can you click there?’ He tried to hide the tremble in his fingers as he pointed at a box on the screen with the text Show in Map written on it.

  ‘Sure.’ Dave did as Jimmy asked, and a new window opened up. Within a few seconds, Jimmy was looking at an overhead schematic of Norwich’s city centre. It took him a while to orientate himself, but he realised it was the Bank Plain area in the shadow of Norwich Castle. Without being asked, Dave switched the view to a satellite perspective and zoomed in on the red pin.

  Jimmy looked at the square grey rectangular roof with the pin in the centre. Just next to the pin was a small purple icon with a white cartoon bed.

  ‘The Royal,’ Jimmy whispered. Dave clicked on the icon and a box popped up confirming what he had just said. It was the Royal Hotel. ‘I do their bins.’

  The two men sat in silence for a moment until Dave turned to Jimmy.

  ‘That’s about it, Jimmy,’ he said, ‘in terms of what you can find out easily.’

  ‘That’s fantastic, thank you.’

  ‘And if you did, er, find any more photographs, then that’s how you can get the hidden information. Assuming that the camera has got the right tech, of course. Phones all have as long as it’s turned on, but not every camera has. Gareth mentioned a photographer. Even if he’s got a high-end camera, it might not have a GPS chip in it.’

  ‘Okay, thanks. I owe you one.’

  ‘No, you don’t,’ Dave replied. ‘If you want me to have a look at the phone, just drop it by. There’s a lot of other stuff I can do if I’ve got the actual device. And don’t worry, I’m very discrete.’

  ‘You’d better be, the amount I pay you.’ Jimmy had been so engrossed in what was on the computer screen that he’d completely missed Gareth walking into his office. ‘Is that for me?’ Jimmy looked away from the screen to see Gareth pointing at the coffee cup on the desk.

  ‘It is, yes,’ Jimmy replied.

  ‘You’re a star, cheers. Has Dave been helpful?’

  ‘Massively. I found a photo on Milly’s phone and now know where it was taken. If it weren’t for Dave here, I wouldn’t have got either the photo or the location.’

  ‘It’s easy when you know how,’ Dave replied with a self-deprecating grin.

  ‘Everyone hates a smart arse, Dave,’ Gareth said. ‘You of all people should know that.’ As Dave’s grin faded, Gareth turned his attention to Jimmy. ‘You should let us have a look at that phone, Jimmy. Young Dave here, geek that he is, will be able to get all sorts of information off it.’

  ‘Such as what?’

  ‘Where Milly’s been, places she visits regularly. Contacts, phone logs, photos,’ Dave said. ‘Nothing ever gets deleted properly. Not these days.’

  ‘Is that legal?’ Jimmy asked.

  ‘Sure it is,’ Dave replied. ‘It’s all there, hidden in plain sight.’

  ‘There're no contacts in the phone,’ Jimmy said. ‘The only thing I could find were some photos and calls from random mobile numbers.’ Too late, Jimmy realised he’d said photos, not photo.

  ‘That doesn’t mean there never were any contacts,’ Dave said. ‘And the mobile numbers can probably be traced.’

  ‘That bit might not be quite so legal,’ Gareth chipped in. ‘It doesn’t mean we can’t do it, but why not just turn the phone over to the Old Bill?’

  ‘Maybe I will,’ Jimmy replied. ‘In a little while.’ He paused for a second. ‘Listen, I’m really grateful for your help. Thank you.’ He got to his feet and took a couple of steps toward the door. ‘I’m heading into the city. Got a few bits to do.’

  ‘Wait there, Jimmy,’ Gareth said. ‘I’ll give you a lift.’

  ‘Honestly, it’s fine,’ Jimmy replied. ‘I’ll get the bus.’

  ‘You’ll have to change at least twice.’ Gareth shrugged himself into his coat. ‘It’s just started raining as well. I need to go to Castle Mall, so I’ll drop you off there. You’re going to have a look at the Royal, I take it?’

  ‘Er, yeah. Might as well. See what’s what.’

  ‘So I’ll give you a lift. I want to have a chat with you about that photographer, Max.’

  Chapter 31

  ‘Thanks for this, Gareth,’ Jimmy said as he watched the long string of brake lights in front of them. The wipers screeched across the windscreen, and Gareth tutted as he flicked them off.

  ‘No problem, mate,’ he replied. ‘It’s Laura’s birthday coming up, so I need to get her something.’

  ‘Any progress on that front?’ Jimmy asked with a slight grin. Gareth glanced across at him before turning his attention back to the queue of traffic.

  ‘No, but thanks for asking,’ Gareth said, also smiling. ‘She told me about the clothes in Milly’s wardrobe.’

  ‘Maybe she was dropping hints about her birthday present from you?’

  ‘Maybe she was,’ Gareth replied with a laugh. ‘But I was thinking more of a bottle of perfume than a three hundred quid dress.’

  ‘Treat them mean, keep them keen,’ Jimmy said. ‘Not sure I agree with it, but it seems to work for some people.’

  ‘You’re right there. So, this Max chap.’ The conversation about Laura was over. ‘I’ve done a bit of digging. He’s not a very nice bloke.’

  ‘I got that impression when I went to his studio.’

  ‘He’s got form. Sexual assault. He was going to be charged with attempted rape, but he had a good brief. That’s why he left London—before he got his bollocks cut off by the girl’s father.’

  ‘How'd you find that out?’ Jimmy asked.

  ‘Friend of a friend,’ Gareth replied with a wry grin. ‘Apparently if your friend Max goes anywhere within the M25 motorway around London, it’s game on for most of the boys in London to have a pop.’ His grin broadened. ‘He chose the wrong father to piss off.’ He frowned and switched the wipers back on for a single sweep of the windscreen. ‘So, what’s on the phone?’

  ‘Like I said, a photo of Milly and a bunch of random mobile numbers.’

  ‘A photo?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Bollocks is there only one photo on it. Wha
t else?’

  Jimmy looked at Gareth, but the other man was fixated on the lights of the traffic in front of them.

  ‘There're some photos of Milly. Taken in a room in the Royal Hotel, based on what Dave found out.’

  ‘What sort of photos? Porn?’

  ‘No,’ Jimmy replied, suddenly feeling nauseated. He opened the window just a couple of inches to let some fresh air into the car. The direction the conversation was going was making it very hot in the vehicle. ‘She was in a dressing gown, heading for the shower. There’s one or two of her getting dressed after the shower.’ He closed his eyes for a second, and the photographs flashed across the inside of his eyelids like a slideshow.

  ‘Right,’ Gareth said. ‘So what’s your next move, assuming you’re not going to the police with what you’ve found?’

  ‘It’s all about the photographer. He knows something. It was his thumb drive with the original pictures on. He normally charges three grand for a set of modelling photos, but if the women can’t pay, then he trades with them.’

  ‘You think that’s what Milly did?’

  ‘Could you pull over just here, Gareth,’ Jimmy said, his mouth suddenly full of saliva.

  When he had finished vomiting on the pavement, watched by the entire bottom deck of the Number 24 bus which chose that moment to creep past him, Jimmy sat back in the passenger seat. Gareth handed him a bottle of mineral water, which he took gratefully. He sipped from the bottle, having to force the warm liquid down his throat past the painful lump in the centre of his chest.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ Jimmy whispered. ‘That sandwich from Starbucks must have been dodgy.’ Gareth didn’t reply. ‘You’ve not got kids, have you?’

  ‘No,’ Gareth replied. ‘Me and Jennifer never got the chance.’

  ‘Joe told me your wife died. I’m really sorry.’ He swallowed, wondering whether to tell Gareth about Hannah. In the end, he decided against it. The atmosphere in the car was bad enough as it was. ‘If you’d had kids and that happened to one of them, what would you do?’

  ‘I don’t even need to think about it,’ Gareth replied. ‘I wouldn’t wait for the boys from London to catch up with him. I’d cut his fucking bollocks off myself.’

  A few moments later, having checked that Jimmy was okay to get back into the traffic jam, Gareth pulled away from the kerb in front of a large black Land Rover whose driver wasn’t keen to let him out and leaned on the horn to make sure Gareth knew that.

  ’So, what’s next?’ he said, glaring at the driver through his rear-view mirror.

  ‘I need more information,’ Jimmy said. ‘Like we talked about in the pub. What was the word you used? Recognisance?’

  ‘Reconnaissance,’ Gareth replied. ‘Like finding out where he lives, which you’ve already done.’

  ‘I met his girlfriend, briefly.’

  ‘Did you? You never mentioned that. What’s she like?’

  ‘Pretty. Very pretty. And battered.’ Jimmy saw Gareth’s lips tighten as he said this. ‘I want to know what other pictures he’s got of Milly. I need to know what she’s got herself involved in. What do you think? Could Dave hack into his studio computers? I saw that in a film once. This bloke sat outside a business on a laptop and got in that way.’

  ‘No, it’s not quite that easy and besides, there won’t be anything on them. All his files are kept somewhere else. Every night, he takes home an external hard drive, so he must have his main server there.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I’m a security consultant, Jimmy,’ Gareth replied. ‘It’s kind of my job to know stuff like that. Fishy as fuck, though. No way to run a business. He should back them up on a remote cloud service straight from his studio, but he’s not even got Wi-Fi in there.’ Jimmy looked at him, frowning. ‘I sent Dave down there to check things out, that’s how I know how Max does his business. The woman with the purple hair took quite a shine to Dave, by all accounts.’

  ‘Rachel.’

  ‘If you say so. Dave offered them a free security assessment. That’s how we get new business—go into a place, point out all the flaws in their security, and then they pay us to close them. Most of them do, anyway.’

  ‘What was Max’s reaction?’

  ‘He told Dave to fuck off. The studio doesn’t need any extra security, apparently.’

  ‘What’s your take on that?’

  ‘He’s got something to hide.’

  ‘Precisely my point. Milly’s all I’ve got left, Gareth,’ Jimmy said, trying to keep his voice even. ‘I’ve got to find out where she is. I don’t care what she’s done, who she’s been with. I just want her back.’

  Gareth drove in silence for a few moments. As they approached the city centre, the traffic started to lighten. Jimmy was lost in his thoughts. Should he go to the police with what he had? But what did he actually have? Some photographs of his daughter in a hotel room? Apart from the fact that Milly was missing, there was nothing for them to investigate.

  Jimmy crossed his arms over his chest, the pain from vomiting earlier still there but much less intense. He knew what he wanted to do, but it wasn’t something he was going to be able to do on his own. Jimmy nodded, his mind made up.

  ‘I’m going to get into his flat,’ he said. Gareth looked over at him, his eyebrows raised. ‘Find his server, or hard drive, or wherever he’s keeping everything, and take it.’

  ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘That’s what you were telling me in the pub.’

  ‘That’s not quite what I said, Jimmy,’ Gareth replied. ‘I said you needed to get as much information as you could on the man so you knew who you were dealing with. Not burgle his flat.’

  ‘That’s what I’m going to do,’ Jimmy said, his mind made up. ‘Can you help me?’

  ‘No,’ Gareth replied, firmly. ‘I don’t do that sort of thing.’

  ‘Any more.’

  ‘Jimmy, listen,’ Gareth said, an edge in his voice that was unmistakable. ‘I don’t know how much you know about my background, but one place I am never going back to is prison. Not for you, not for your Milly, not for anyone.’

  ‘Do you recognise this girl?’ Jimmy asked the fresh-faced receptionist behind the main desk in the Royal Hotel. According to her name badge, her name was Alaina. She looked at Jimmy’s phone screen briefly through eyes shrouded with heavy black makeup and replied with a thick clipped Eastern European accent.

  ‘No, sorry. Is there anything else?’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Jimmy asked, pushing the phone back towards her. The conversation wasn’t going the way he’d thought it would when he’d planned it from a coffee shop opposite the plush hotel.

  ‘Yes, am sure,’ the receptionist replied, not taking her eyes off her computer screen. Jimmy stood there awkwardly for a few seconds before slipping the phone back into his pocket.

  ‘Bitch,’ he muttered under his breath as he walked away from the desk and back to the main lobby of the hotel. He sat down in an armchair and hadn’t even got comfortable before a waiter approached him.

  ‘Can I get you anything, sir?’ the waiter asked. Jimmy glanced at him. He could have been the receptionist’s brother.

  ‘Coffee.’

  ‘Latte? Cappuccino? A flat white perhaps?’

  ‘Coffee.’

  ‘Sure.’ The waiter bustled away to hassle another man who had dared to sit in one of the chairs in the lobby and Jimmy looked around the interior of the hotel. He’d been down the alleyway to the side to where they kept their bins hundreds of times, but had never been inside the hotel.

  The interior of the foyer was very traditional. High ceilings, marble floors, lots of windows. Jimmy remembered reading about the refurbishment of the hotel a few years ago, just after it got added to his bin round. It had started life as a hotel back in Victorian times, then become an office block, then abandoned for a while and finally, back into a hotel. He picked up one of the complementary newspapers on the table—the Eastern Daily News—and started
reading an overly enthusiastic post about last night’s football game.

  Jimmy was interrupted by a discrete cough beside him a couple of minutes later. He looked up to see the waiter hovering next to the table where he had just placed a white china cup full of coffee.

  ‘May I take your room number, sir?’ the waiter asked.

  ‘I’m just visiting, thank you,’ Jimmy replied. ‘How much do I owe you?’ The waiter looked nonplussed for a moment and excused himself. Jimmy watched as he walked back to the service area and had a hushed conversation with a large man in a dark suit. A few seconds after this, the large man approached Jimmy.

  ‘Hello, sir,’ he said in a gruff voice, fiddling with the cufflinks on his shirt. Jimmy put his newspaper down and regarded the new arrival. He was bigger than Jimmy had realised and had a small badge with the name Carlos and the title Head of Security in copperplate script on his lapel.

  ‘Hello, Carlos,’ Jimmy replied in a bright voice. ‘How are you today?’

  ‘Er, I’m fine, sir. Thank you.’ The man looked over at the waiter for a few seconds. ‘I understand you’re not actually a guest. Only the coffee is complimentary for guests only.’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ Jimmy said, thinking about what to do. Was Carlos about to take the coffee away from him? The head of security made no move toward the cup, but just stood there. Lurking like men only his size could do. But Jimmy wasn’t far off the younger man’s size and wasn’t intimidated by men in cheap suits. An uncomfortable silence developed between them.

  ‘In fact, Carlos,’ Jimmy said eventually. ‘I am a guest. I’ve just not checked in yet.’ Carlos nodded his head in reply.

  ‘Ah, I see,’ he replied, shooting a filthy look in the waiter’s direction. Jimmy hoped he hadn’t got the young man into trouble as he got to his feet and walked over to the reception desk. If the receptionist remembered him from a short time earlier, she hid it well. A few moments later, he was poorer by one hundred and thirty pounds but had an electronic keycard to what Alaina had described as one of the hotel’s more bijoux rooms. It had however, she’d informed him in clipped tones, got a view of the castle.