The Killer Shadow Thieves (DI Tom Blake, #1)

by J. F. Burgess

  CHAPTER 62

  Taking over temporary operational duties from his DI, DS Murphy stood in front of three white boards in the major incident room. The first one had gruesome pictures of the murder victim Barry Gibson, bloody and slumped in the toilet cubicle of the White Horse. Posted below it were sequential crime scene images. The second board contained pictures of Nathan Dukes, Darryl Connor, Dave Millburn and Yusuf Benzar.

  He cleared his throat and the assembled team quietened. He was just about to read from his notes when DI Blake entered the room and shuffled to the back and sat down. DS Murphy gave him a sympathetic smile.

  ‘This is the second briefing of the Barry Gibson murder case. Having gathered more intelligence about him from family, friends and known associates over the last few days, we now have a clearer picture of the type of man he was. It seems Mr Gibson made a lot of enemies especially in an area of the town we affectionately refer to as the Bermuda Triangle: e.g. Tontine Street, Parliament Row and Percy Street.

  Because his drinking habits often escalated into abusive behaviour, he was prone to the odd fight in and around that area. In fact, Barry Gibson was involved in two altercations in the White Horse on the night he was murdered, the second one led to his death. Unfortunately one of the key suspects Grant Bolton; the first man he argued with, escaped arrest from a derelict factory in Tunstall. His DNA has been taken from the scene, and we know he’s got form for football violence. So at this point he can’t be ruled out.

  Because Gibson was a known troublemaker, by several landlords and door staff, we questioned Nathan Dukes, one of M8’s bouncers, whilst he was in custody. We discovered that in the line of his work he was involved in a fight with Barry Gibson. Medical records show that Dukes stamped on his arm after ejecting him from the Burton Stores a couple of years ago, due to an alleged sexual assault on Dukes’ girlfriend. Barry Gibson had to have pins and reconstructive surgery to his arm. Murphy pointed to the next mugshot. ‘We also questioned the landlord of the White Horse Darryl Connor who’s done time for GBH. Again there is a link between Connor and the victim. When he and his Polish wife first took over the pub, Gibson made sexual and anti-Polish remarks to her. She subsequently made a complaint to the police. However, Connor claims Gibson later apologised to him and his wife, and they both forgave him. Which was probably a shrewd business, not personal decision, based around Gibson putting money behind the bar regularly. Both Darryl Connor and Nathan Dukes had means, motive, and opportunity to murder Gibson. Dave Millburn, a second bouncer at the crime scene was also questioned, but we couldn’t establish any link between him and the victim, and his DNA has been ruled out by SOCO as circumstantial. To recap, the pathologist confirmed that a small, very sharp knife was forced into the wound Barry Gibson sustained to the back of his skull, and then left to bleed out, but there’s still no clear suspect.

  DI Blake stood up and interjected. ‘John if I may clarify this point, I think it will help?’

  ‘Go ahead, boss.’

  ‘Drop point blades are popular survival knives, because they are extremely tough. But, although they’re easy to conceal, this isn’t the weapon of choice for the average nut-job on the street. It’s the kind of blade used by survival specialists, but could equally be used by someone into camping. Unfortunately they’re relatively cheap, and can be bought online. These kind of knifes are mainly owned by males who either collect weapons, or are survivalists. DC Longsdon, get on to Connor’s, Dukes’, and Millburn’s banks. Pay specific attention to any online purchases from survival or weapons websites. Even if we don't find the murder weapon, lets at least trace it to a suspect?

  ‘Another point of interest is our victim’s toxicology report. This shows not only a high level of alcohol in his blood stream, but also a potent compound of MDMA ecstasy. If he was a regular user then there’ll be a dealer involved. Meaning it’s quite possible he owed money to him for drugs. We know Yusuf Benzar is a dealer. It’s possible he could be the source supplier through a smaller distributer, who we think might be a bloke known to Barry Gibson as Stomper… which is another motive to consider. As yet we’ve been unable to identify who Stomper is, and he remains a suspect.’ Blake said before giving Murphy the nod.

  ‘Thank you, boss. To further muddy the waters both the bouncers and the landlord used the toilets that night. Connor and Dukes also kicked in the door, traipsed through the blood and contaminated the scene, making it even more difficult to prove or disprove either of them carried out the killing. Interestingly Connor went missing around ten, for a whole fifty minutes. We have him on CCTV for some of that time, but it appears he went off the radar just after ten, and wasn’t seen again until he returned to the pub when the incident was called in. Unfortunately, apart from trace elements of the victim’s blood on his shoe soles, obtained when he entered the gents, we don't have anything else on him yet. The shoe prints in the window where the murder exited are the same size as Dukes’ and the landlord’s, but the tread pattern doesn’t match those worn by either on the night. However, because both left the pub during the murder time-line, and they were wearing very similar black polo shirts and black trousers… M8’s uniform, it’s quite possible they could have changed into a spare uniform, and shoes at some point, before calling it in. We later learnt that both men had cars parked close by; sadly this was overlooked at the time, but later searches of those vehicles were negative. Its possible plastic bags were used to dispose of the incriminating clothes. Ultimately, nobody would have noticed if they had changed. Bearing this in mind, Dukes and Connor still remain suspects until proven otherwise.

  ‘What about Barry Gibson’s outstanding debt to the escaped prisoner Yusuf Benzar? Surely he must be a key suspect?’ the office manager, Nick Pemberton, asked.

  ‘I was just coming to that. Because Benzar has absconded we have very little to link them apart from the fact that our victim owed him a grand. There’s also no evidence to place him at the scene of the crime. In fact his alibi is rock solid. He was at the Genting Casino when the murder took place. Although we can’t rule out that Benzar didn’t put out a contract on Barry Gibson. Interpol have issued a Code Red for his arrest and extradition. But it’s unlikely he’ll surface anytime soon considering the serious drug charges brought against him,’ Murphy paused and took a slurp of his tea.

  DC Moore held his hand up like a patient school kid. ‘Is it possible all of the suspects could be linked to both Benzar brothers in some way?’

  ‘It’s a line of inquiry we’ll be pursuing. I’m giving you an action… get onto Nathan Dukes’ and Darryl Connor’s mobile service providers and access their records. See if we can find any call history to Yusuf Benzar, or his brother Ibrahim. And finally we still need to consider the CCTV evidence of a man captured leaving the alley at the back of the White Horse. He could be our man, but as yet the public appeal has yielded nothing.’

  CHAPTER 63

  Ibrahim was absolutely livid at the balls-up the African brothers made of the kidnapping and subsequent escape of Isabel Blake. He knew it was only a matter of time before this pair of animals were arrested, and he couldn’t guarantee their silence. Ultimately, there was too much at risk, and he decided they were expendable. He picked up his phone and dialled the heist benefactor.

  Vivaldi’s ‘Four Seasons’ ring tone drew the Collector’s gaze from his precious gallery of stolen paintings.

  ‘Session key?’

  ‘Six-four-three-seven-X.’

  ‘Code confirmed.’

  In the fast-evolving world of corporate espionage and military strongholds, crypto phone technology was standard across the board. It was a case of: if you can’t beat them, join them.

  ‘We have a problem.’

  ‘And that is?’ the Collector asked, gazing at the ambient lighting casting shadows over the vaulted brick ceilings of his secret underground gallery.

  ‘Yusuf was arrested; we needed to leverage his release. So we kidnapped the arresting detective’s daughter and b
argained a switch for Yusuf. Unfortunately, the people I used fucked up. The girl escaped and they put her in hospital trying to recapture her, leaving us with some loose ends to tie up.’

  ‘Your brother is a serious liability.’

  ‘I know, but he’s family,’ Ibrahim said, trying to justify his actions.

  ‘Kindred loyalty is endearing, but it’s a weakness,’ he said in the direct manner Ibrahim was accustomed to. ‘You should choose your people more carefully.’

  ‘They’ve done OK in the past.’

  ‘Past results don’t always guarantee future success: first principle of good economics. No matter, we need to see beyond this trite interruption to our plans. Do these people need a vacation?’

  ‘Definitely. One-way tickets.’

  ‘OK, send me the details through our usual secure channel and I will arrange for one of my operatives to organise their tickets.’

  Although the Collector hated corporate business, he’d taken some powerful strategies from America’s best business minds and implemented them into his crooked arsenal. Like a chess-master he was always one step ahead of the game and his network of highly renumerated operatives could be dropped anywhere in the world within twenty-four hours.

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘No. We have a final meeting soon to ensure everyone knows their role.’

  ‘Excellent, make sure there’s no more fuck ups. Your people need briefing properly to make them aware of their commitments to this project. Once you are ready let me know and a courier will drop the operational cash off. The rest will be delivered on completion,’ he said, gazing at the priceless ‘Storm on the Sea of Galilee’ taken from the fourth chapter of the Gospel of Mark in the New Testament.

  The picture was one of thirteen grandmasters stolen from the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston in 1990. This heist was considered the largest art theft in world history, with a collective value in excess of $500 million.

  The Collector’s appetite for the world’s greatest art and antiquities knew no bounds and was parallel with a serious addiction. His gallery spanned three floors and contained a secret passageway down to the beach. Over a thirty-year period he’d filled it with priceless stolen artefacts, valued at around nine-hundred million.

  On the premature death of his father as an only child, he’d inherited his Texas oil fortune at just nineteen. But after only two years at the helm, he sold the oil empire for the tune of one billion to a large conglomerate.

  He visited the gallery at least twice a day and sat on one of the carefully placed Chesterfield sofas, basking in delusions of grandeur, whilst listening to soothing classical music, and savouring the smoke of his beloved Dunhill Red cigarettes.

  Sometimes the euphoric feelings he got from the experience would be so overwhelming he’d masturbate. But right now his number one priority was the procurement of the Staffordshire Hoard. The largest haul of Anglo-Saxon gold ever found in the world.

  He first became aware of the Hoard’s discovery via CNN World News. However, due to the covert nature of his lifestyle and his criminal record, he didn’t venture from US soil. When the Hoard tour brought the ancient treasure to the National Geographic Museum in Washington DC, he was ecstatic at getting within touching distance of the exquisite collection.

  CHAPTER 64

  Blake could tell by the look on Coleman’s face it wasn’t good news.

  ‘Take a seat, Tom?’

  He sunk down into the leather like a knight about to fall on his sword.

  ‘I’m afraid it’s bad news. After yesterday’s debacle featured in last night’s Sentinel, you’ve left me with no choice but to assign you to duties away from the public. What I’m struggling to comprehend is how the bloody hell the prisoner arranged escape from the confines of his cell, and then pulled a Houdini act on the handcuffs. It beggars belief, to be honest. Shit rolls downhill, Tom. Yesterday I had an interesting conversation with the Regional Commander, or, should I say, took it with both barrels. Let’s just say the noises coming from HQ aren’t good at all. There’s talk of an internal investigation.’

  Blake hesitated for a moment deliberating how to tell his CI what really happened. What was the worst they could do? He’d already been assigned to desk duties. There’d be an inquiry so best to come clean he thought; surely the powers that be would realise the immense pressure he was under. After all his daughter’s life was at stake. Nobody would really blame him, would they?

  Coleman’s brows knitted in a frown. ‘Well, Inspector, what do you have to say?’

  Blake jumped straight in. ‘Sir, the day before yesterday I received an anonymous call from some criminals asking probing questions about Yusuf Benzar’s transit time to remand prison the following morning. At first I thought it was some kind of wind-up, until they dropped the bombshell that they’d abducted my daughter Isabel. Eventually she came on the phone extremely frightened saying they had guns.’

  Coleman looked shocked. ‘Seriously, Tom?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘I wasn’t expecting that, it’s terrible news. Why didn’t you come to me straight away? I would have put a team on it immediately.’

  ‘I’m afraid it wasn’t an option, sir. They threatened to harm Isabel if any other police were involved. I just couldn’t take the risk. I hope you understand?’

  The muscles in Coleman’s face tightened, concealing his emotions. ‘Tom, I’m really distressed to hear this. Is she OK?’

  ‘No, sir.’ His eyes welled with tears. ‘I negotiated her release but Isabel tried to escape and was involved in a hit-and-run. She’s in intensive care.’

  ‘Oh my god! I really don’t know what to say.’

  ‘There’s nothing you can say, sir; she’s on life support at present with a serious head trauma.’

  His tone of voice changed. ‘Jesus, that’s bloody awful! What have the hospital said?’

  ‘She’s on a ventilator because the head trauma has affected her breathing. The next forty-eight hours are critical. If she pulls through that they’re hopeful she’ll improve,’

  For once Coleman was speechless.

  ‘I’d really appreciate it if we kept this quiet for now, just until Isabel starts to pull through. I realise that will be difficult with regards to professional standards, but I don’t want anyone else in the station knowing yet.’

  ‘I can’t make any promises, Tom, but I’ll do my best to keep the vultures at bay for now. I take it DS Murphy knows about Isabel?’

  ‘He knows about the hit-and-run and her admittance to the ICU. But not about the abduction,’ Blake lied, to protect his DS.

  ‘Tom, I strongly advise you to take immediate compassionate leave. We can discuss how long you’ll need once Isabel’s on the mend. And, before you say anything, I insist.’

  Blake knew better than to argue, besides there was no way he could continue working at present. His mind was shot and he needed to visit the hospital regularly.

  Coleman stood, came round to the front of his desk and placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. ‘You take care, Tom. Look after your daughter. I’ll explain the situation to the Regional Commander. I’m sure he’ll understand; he’s got children of his own. Regarding getting the bastards that did this I’ll discuss our options with DS Murphy this morning and keep you in the loop.’

  Blake stood and shook his hand. ‘Thank you, sir. It eases some of the burden knowing you’re on side.’

  The hospital chair was designed to be comfy, but Blake simply couldn’t relax whilst his daughter lay opposite, hooked up to a myriad of Intensive Care equipment. The duty nurse informed him that during his absence there’d been positive changes to Isabel’s condition, and the consultant would be on the ward in a few minutes to give him a more detailed prognosis.

  Alert, he became acutely aware of movement. Suddenly he heard voices in the corridor. The consultant stood in discussion with the duty nurse before entering the room.

  ‘Mr Blake? I’m Doctor Rani,
head consultant of the Intensive Care Unit,’ he said, offering a reassuring handshake. ‘You’ll be pleased to know that Isabel’s making good progress. Her heartbeat has returned to normal, and she could breathe unaided by the ventilator for two hours early this morning. We will try again later. Hopefully she’ll be able to come off most of this equipment within the next forty-eight hours. She’s young and her immune system is strong.’

  ‘Thank God!’ He sighed with relief. ‘Will she be OK? I mean her brain?’

  ‘It’s early days yet but fortunately her scan showed no underlying brain damage. The signs look good at this stage, but we can never be one hundred per cent until a patient regains full consciousness.’

  Blake felt a sudden floating sensation as the heavy burden he’d been carrying around for the last two days lifted. Wiping back tears of joy, he found the strength to believe everything would be all right. ‘Thank you, Doctor, I can’t tell you how much that means. Is there anything I can do to help Isabel?’

  ‘Most definitely. I was just coming to that. Relatives can play a key role in a patient’s recovery by helping to stimulate their senses. If you could bring some of Isabel’s favourite things in. Talk to her, show family pictures. Read her favourite book and play music she likes. The most important thing is to stay positive whilst in your daughter’s company. I know it’s difficult, but best to leave your worries at the door. Research shows just as positive things are felt and sensed, so are the negatives.’

  CHAPTER 65

  The African brothers fuck-up of the Isabel Blake kidnapping highlighted their limitations. The fact there was such a personal police connection to the kidnapping meant their arrest was imminent. Ibrahim couldn’t take the risk of being connected to this. Hence the swift call to the Collector to arrange their disappearance.