The Child Taker (2009)

by Conrad Jones

  Chapter Nineteen

  The Child Taker

  Jack Howarth awoke to the strong odour of antiseptic. Through the haze of anaesthetic, his senses started to function. His sense of smell told him that he was probably in hospital. He could feel clean crisp cotton against his skin. There was no pain anymore and he was numb from the belly button down. Jack moved his left hand and he heard a metallic rattle against the bed frame. There was a metal bracelet around his wrist, handcuffs. He opened his eyes and the glare of the strip lighting hurt him. His mouth was bone dry and he could still taste the coppery flavour of his own blood.

  “He’s coming round,” a voice said. He didn’t recognise it.

  “Shame, it’s a pity the scumbag isn’t dead,” another voice answered the first.

  “I’ll let the inspector know, and inform the nurse,” the first voice spoke again.

  “Inform the blond nurse will you, she’s fit. She could give me a bed bath any day.”

  “Do you ever stop? Give it a rest will you.”

  “Could I have some water please?” Jack hardly recognised his own voice. His mouth and throat were so dry he could hardly speak.

  “Shut up you nonce,” a voice replied. Jack’s vision began to clear and he focused on a fat police constable who was next to his bed. The police officer was wearing black combat pants, boots and an armoured stab vest over his tee shirt. On his hip was a holstered Glock 14.

  “I’m thirsty,” Jack croaked.

  “I couldn’t care less if you choke to death,” the police constable crossed his legs and picked up his newspaper. Jack tried to sit up but his muscles were still immobilised. A pretty blond nurse entered the room. She walked quickly as if she didn’t have much time to waste. The fat constable put his newspaper down and breathed in to lessen the bulge of his beer belly. He smiled at her as he eyed the curves of her body through her starched navy blue uniform.

  “So he’s woken up has he?” the nurse chirped without actually looking at the police officer.

  “Yes, mores’ the pity,” the constable scoffed. The nurse ignored him and reached for Jack’s pulse. She checked it against her watch.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked him abruptly.

  “Tired, unappreciated, underpaid, and my wife doesn’t understand me,” the constable answered her question, trying to make a joke. The nurse looked at him as if he was stupid. “I was talking to the patient.”

  “I’m very thirsty, nurse,” Jack croaked.

  “That’s to be expected after anaesthetic,” she poured water from a jug on the bedside cabinet into a paper cup, and put it to his lips. Jack gulped greedily at the cool liquid, savouring it as it rehydrated his mouth. “The doctor will be with you any minute.”

  The nurse put the paper cup into a waste bin, and then she picked up a chart at the end of the bed and scribbled Jack’s stats in the relevant boxes.

  “You couldn’t put your number on there could you?” the police officer tried a more direct approach.

  “Do you know I’m not sure who is the worst pervert, you or him,” she looked at him frostily as she hung up the chart again, and then she walked out of the room without saying another word.

  “Silly bitch,” the police officer muttered.

  No sooner had she left the door opened again and a tired looking doctor walked in. He looked way too young to be a doctor, and his wavy brown hair was clipped back from his face by a black elastic hair band. His white coat was opened, showing faded blue jeans and a dark tee shirt underneath.

  “How are you feeling?” the doctor picked up the charts and analysed it as he spoke.

  “Numb,” Jack croaked.

  “You’re a lucky man, Mr Howarth, any longer and you’d have lost both testicles,” he sounded disproportionately happy about it.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m afraid we had to remove your right testicle, but we managed to save the left, and one is better than none,” he chirped.

  “That’s why I feel numb from the waist down?”

  “Believe me; it’s better to be numb at the moment. I’ll pop in and see you in the morning.”

  “I can still taste blood in my throat, doctor,” Jack coughed. “I’m really thirsty too.”

  “You had a pretty bad beating, Mr Howarth. A rib punctured your left lung, but we’ve fixed you up, and with some rest and recuperation you’ll be up and about in no time,” he placed the chart on its hook and left the room without acknowledging the police officer was there.

  “Pity they didn’t cut both your bollocks off,” the constable goaded him, and turned back to his newspaper.

  “The nurse had you sussed out all along,” Jack croaked. The police officer flushed red with anger. He stood up slowly and folded his newspaper, before placing it on his chair. Jack tensed his body as the fat constable approached the bed. He expected the officer to strike him for daring to ridicule him. A huge shadow filled the obscured glass in the door, and the police officer stepped back away from the bed.

  “There’ll be plenty of time for you, nonce,” he hissed as the door opened. The Chief Inspector walked into the room flanked by a huge man with a shaven head. Jack looked from one to the other trying to make out who they were, and what they wanted.

  “Is there a problem, Constable?” the Inspector asked. He removed his peaked cap as he entered.

  “No, Sir.”

  “Go and get yourself a coffee,” the Chief ordered. The fat constable looked Tank up and down. Tank eyed him coldly and he left without a word.

  “I’m not one bit happy about this, Agent Tankersley,” the Inspector snapped as the door closed. Jack could sense the animosity between them.

  “Where are the Kelly twins?” Tank ignored the police officer and walked to the bed.

  “I don’t know,” Jack shook his head.

  “Where were they the last time you saw them?” Tank leaned against the bed and Jack realised that this giant of a man was no police officer. He did not know how he knew, but he did, and that worried him.

  “They were being carried out of my caravan by Alfie Lesner and his thug of a friend.”

  “Who was his friend?”

  “I don’t know him.”

  “Where did they take them?”

  “I really don’t know, officer, what’s your name?” Jack fished for the big man’s rank.

  “You took the twins from the Lakes, Howarth,” Tank told him. It was not a question.

  “No I didn’t, Alfie must have taken them. The first time that I saw was when he brought them to my caravan.”

  “You’re a liar, we know that you were in the woods,” Tank’s eyes were still and piercing like a shark’s. Jack’s expression flickered, and Tank knew that he was about to lie again.

  “I’ve never been to the Lakes,” Jack coughed again. “Am I under caution?” He looked at the uniformed officer. The Inspector blushed and shook his head.

  “Not at the moment,” he said.

  “Then I don’t want to say anything else until I’ve spoken to a solicitor.”

  “Leave us,” Tank looked at the Inspector.

  “ I’m afraid I can’t do that. He’s my prisoner,” the officer blustered.

  “Then I’ll have him removed from the hospital immediately,” Tank stepped toward the door.

  “Five minutes, Agent Tankersley, and I mean it,” he put his hat back on and stormed out of the room. Tank waited until he’d gone before turning back to the Child Taker.

  Jack had never seen any senior ranking police officer surrender a prisoner as easily as the Inspector had, and he knew that this big man was incredibly dangerous.

  “I want a solicitor,” he croaked, trying to gain the initiative.

  Tank approached the end of the bad and grabbed his right foot. He raised it high into the air and then slammed it back down on the bed. Jack felt flashes of pain in every nerve in his body, and he opened his mouth to scream. Tank moved like lightening and pressed his huge hand over Ja
ck’s mouth.

  “I’ve got your DNA in the woods, and your caravan has a nursery in it. Now if you know what’s good for you then you’ll tell me where Lesner took the children,” Tank spoke quietly and looked into the Child Taker’s eyes for sign of a reaction. He could see fear. “Now I’m going to remove my hand, shout anything and I’ll have you taken from this hospital in less than half an hour. I’ll send you to our Albanian interrogation centre, which is situated in the dungeons of an eighteenth century jail.”

  Jack’s eyes registered confusion, pain and fear. He could not understand who this man was. A Chief Inspector did as he was told, under duress, and now he was threatening to make him disappear. Who had that kind of authority?

  “You’d like Albania, Jack, because the people there are descended from the Romany Gypsies,” Tank’s voice was cold and monotone.

  Recognition flickered in Jack’s eyes, recognition and more confusion.

  “You know gypsies don’t you, Jack.”

  Jack’s eyes widened and he shook his head.

  “Oh, yes you do, because you’ve been preying on their children for years, you pervert,” Tank squeezed his face hard as he kept him silent. Jack was starting to panic, short of breath and racked with pain. He was also very confused as to how this brute of a man knew as much as he did.

  “The Albanian interrogators, and the inmates would love to spend some time alone with a child molester like you, Jack, especially one who preyed on their kin,” Tank let his words sink in, and then let go of his face. “I’ve known men who have been interrogated in there for years on end, Jack. You’d be begging them to kill you.”

  “Who are you?” Jack gasped.

  “I’m your worst nightmare, Jack. Now where did Lesner take the children?”

  “I really don’t know,” Jack closed his eyes and waited for pain, but none was forthcoming.

  “Have it your way, Howarth.”

  Tank walked away from the bed and took out his cell phone. He punched in a speed dial number and placed the set next to his ear. He had his back to the Child Taker.

  “This is Agent Tankersley. I need that extraction from Warrington General Hospital. Do it now. Interrogation, Albania, labelled rendition.” Jack could not make head or tale of what he was saying but he’d heard enough to be certain that this man wasn’t messing around.

  “Wait, I want a lawyer,” Jack cried.

  “There’s no lawyer where you’re going, only pain,” Tank ignored him and ended his call. He stepped toward the door.

  “I don’t know where he took them, honestly,” Jack’s voice was cracking up. He couldn’t go to a foreign prison where he would be identified to the general population as an abuser of gypsy children. The memories of his terrible childhood, and the pain and degradation that he’d suffered at the hands of the catholic priest came flooding back to him, and he couldn’t survive it again. He didn’t know how this man was able to threaten him with rendition, but he knew that it went on, and he didn’t want to be a victim of it.

  “I don’t care what you have to say anymore, Jack. I’ll ask Lesner himself. Enjoy Albania, Jack,” Tank opened the door. The Chief Inspector was at the end of the corridor talking to colleagues. He was also talking to Sylvia Lees, the family liaison officer. They stopped talking as he looked at them, and she pointed toward him.

  “Okay, I’ll tell you,” Jack croaked.

  “You’ve got sixty seconds starting from now,” Tank closed the door and turned around to face him. There was a crimson stain spreading from between his legs. Tank thought that he’d burst his stitches, shame.

  “The children were bought by a Moroccan gangster, who calls himself Hajj,” he began.

  “So you did take them?”

  “No, Alfie must have taken them.”

  “Your DNA was in the woods, Jack.”

  “Did you find it on recording equipment?” Jack asked.

  Tank remained silent, and waited for him to continue.

  “Alfie stole it from my van,” Jack was trying to cover the story that he would tell the police, if he got the chance to.

  “Where did he take the children, Jack, last chance?”

  “Alfie took them, and he sold them to Hajj,” Jack lied.

  “What’s the Moroccan’s real name?”

  “Hajj Achmed,” Jack replied. Tank typed the name into his phone and sent it to Grace as he spoke to the Child Taker. She would take it and run it through their files while he continued his interrogation.

  “Where are they taking them?”

  “Morocco.”

  “How do they transport them?”

  “I really don’t know that.”

  “How do you get in touch with Hajj?”

  “I don’t, I’ve told you that Alfie sells them, not me.”

  “So how do you know that they take them to Morocco?”

  “Alfie told me,” Jack’s eyes flicked up to the left as he spoke, indicating that he was creating his answers, lying.

  Tank looked at him and shook his head slowly. The blood stain was spreading quickly between the Child Taker’s legs, but he seemed to be oblivious to it.

  “I’m going to speak to Lesner now, and if you’ve lied to me I’ll come back and kill you,” Tank stepped to the side of his bed.

  “You can’t kill me,” Jack croaked.

  “I can, and I will,” Tank tipped the heavy metal bed as if it were made from cardboard. Jack flapped frantically trying to maintain his balance but gravity got the better of him and he was left dangling from the wrist off the side of the bed.

  “Nurse! Help me!” Jack shouted as loud as his parched throat would allow him to. “Nurse!”

  The door opened and the blond nurse came running in. The Chief Inspector followed close behind her. The fat constable and Sylvia Lees stood in the doorway open mouthed at the scene. Jack was still scrabbling to gain his balance, and his feet were slipping in his blood on the tiled floor.

  “What the hell is going on?” the nurse said as she tried to lift Jack back onto the bed.

  “He slipped trying to reach his water,” Tank stepped past her and walked toward the door. The fat constable stood in his way.

  “If you don’t want to be drinking your Mars Bars through a straw for the next six weeks then you need to get out of my way fat boy,” Tank glared down at him. He swallowed hard and stepped aside.

  “I need to have a word with you, Agent Tankersley,” the Chief Inspector growled.

  “Where are you holding Alfie Lesner?” Tank turned to face him.

  “Why didn’t you say that the Kelly twins were the Major’s grandchildren?” he blustered.

  Tank looked at Sylvia Lees and didn’t need to ask where that gem of information had come from.

  “They recovered evidence from the woods,” Sylvia added fuel to the fire.

  “A word right now!” the Chief said pointing to the corridor. They all stepped out of the room, leaving the nurse to tend to the struggling patient. She pressed the alarm button to summon help and doctors came running down the corridor toward them.

  “You have no jurisdiction here if you are acting purely as a vigilante, Agent Tankersley,” the Chief removed his hat and pointed his finger at Tank. “I have every sympathy with the Major, but this is not helping us to find his grandchildren.”

  “Where are you holding Alfie Lesner?” Tank repeated his question.

  “Are you listening to me?” the Chief said angrily. “I could have you arrested right now for what you’ve done so far.”

  Tank decided to cut his losses and walk away, but the Chief had other ideas. He grabbed Tank by the arm and pulled him backwards.

  “I want you to hand over every speck of evidence that you have taken from that crime scene, and then you and the Major need to stay well out of my investigation, do you hear me?”