by Larry Igbon
“What is it? What? Tell me.”
“Guess.” His executioner sat and picked up the oars. He pulled hard.
“No, don’t. Stop.”
For the last time, Ramsay looked into Grant’s eyes. “Remember these words. Craig Ramsay.” The next catch pulled him away from his victim’s fingers. Grant fell face down into the water, then raised his head and screamed a curse into the gloom.
He submerged but surfaced after less than a minute. Ramsay watched him take several breaths. Then, he took one long one and disappeared below the surface again. Waste of time. He pulled away from the archway and rowed back to his entry spot. On the way, he threw Grant’s phone into the Thames.
Chapter 13
The cryptic text message to Wallace read ‘Done’. In his reply, Wallace reminded him about the arrest team on standby.
Swamped with emotional pressure, Ramsay felt in need of a catharsis. In the meantime, a drink would help reduce the sensation. Not wishing to be in the company of noisy strangers, he decided against a bar. He knew one place where he would be welcome. He eased out into the dim night traffic.
As if by instinct, he reached his destination. His mind had been roaming throughout the journey. As he slid out of the car, he caught sight of himself in the mirror. The image did not show his preferred likeness—he looked as though he had been through the mill. Not as much as the other guys.
Julia buzzed the back-door open as soon as she saw him on the screen. She was waiting at the open door when he arrived. Ignoring his grubbiness, she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him. Then, taking both his hands, she drew him indoors. “Hi. Glad you could make it. I’ve missed you.”
“Well, I told you I’d be here to say goodnight and here I am. I could murder a good strong gin and tonic right now. I should splash water on my face first, if I can use your bathroom?”
“Yes, you look as if you’ve be playing rough again. I’ll fix your drink while you wash. I’ve got lots to tell you.”
She turned towards the kitchen and he pulled her back. “Not so fast.” They grinned at each other, then shared a lingering kiss.
* * *
Half an hour later, after a shower and a gin and tonic, a more presentable Ramsay was feeling mellow. He was relaxed as he and Julia sat side-by-side on the couch, sipping wine. They had made small talk about Cyprus, and she had confirmed that she would love to visit him there.
“What was it you wanted to tell me earlier?” Ramsay said.
“Well, a bizarre thing happened today,” she put her glass down and snuggled into his arms. “I was about to do some on-line banking when I discovered my balance was over two million pounds.”
“And that surprised you?”
“I’ll say it did. I thought my heart would never stop pounding. My father will contact my bank in the morning. He maintains they accepted a genuine transfer into my account.”
“Any idea where the money originated?”
“A Cayman bank account, named K2000K.”
“Does that mean anything to you?”
“No.”
“Nothing at all?”
“That’s right. Why? Don’t you believe me?”
“I do. The money’s yours, don’t worry about it.”
“What? Tom what are you saying?”
“Do you remember what we spoke about when I gave you the special phone? How you’d identify the man on the other end?”
“Sure, he’s Phil and the password is Kosovo 2000. Oh, wait.” Realisation dawned on her face as she connected the dots. “Kosovo 2000 equals K2000K, right?”
“Brains and beauty, well done. Yes, we arranged the transfer of those funds to your account.”
There was a bewildered expression on her face. He chuckled and said, “Are you a little puzzled?”
Julia sat upright and tried her best to sound sarcastic, “Oh no, Tom, I’m baffled to the point of incoherence! How and why did you arrange this? What is account K2000K for?” He was still grinning. She folded her arms and drummed the fingers of her right hand on her left arm. “I’m waiting.”
“OK, baby, take it easy. The account no longer exists. We set it up to make certain disbursements. After making the disposals, the account was no longer needed. You, my dear Miss Parry, are a beneficiary. The cash is yours to keep, no one is coming after it. Smile. You’re a millionairess.”
She was incredulous, but as she stared into his eyes something told her he was serious. “Tell me again.”
“You’re a millionairess.”
“Again.”
“Millionairess.” He leaned in and kissed her. “And it couldn’t happen to a nicer girl.”
* * *
Ramsay had hoped his explanation about the money would be acceptable to Julia, but that was not the case. She wanted a full breakdown with more details. He looked into her eyes, smiled and took her hand. “OK, you win. I’ll tell you everything you need to know to understand this.”
“Thank you, Tom, that’s all I ask.”
“Afterwards, how you handle the knowledge is up to you. I’m asking for your discretion, but I realise your father needs answers. I won’t talk to him, or anyone else, about this. You must decide how much you tell him. Understood?”
“Yes. Now please tell me everything.”
“There are details I can’t disclose because I don’t want to put Phil in any danger. Everything I say is the truth, including the name of your benefactor.”
He did not wish to lie to her, but he undertook to be as economical with the truth as possible. Skilled in subterfuge and deception as he was, this would not be difficult. The most important participant was a trusting audience.
He explained that he and Grant had spoken at length earlier that day. He had reminded him that he was still the prime suspect in Craig’s murder. Sykes was following up the cause of the blaze at Elite Automobiles. Members of Grant’s gang had been on the premises minutes before the fire started, and Sykes was still examining their statements.
“Grant behaved like a maniac, ranting and screaming. I called him a spineless thug for what he did to your business. Guess what? He apologised. Gerry Grant apologised.”
“He did? That’s unbelievable.”
“That’s what I thought. He said he wanted you to have two million pounds as compensation.”
“What? That’s what Grant said?”
“He said it and he meant it, but I didn’t want him or any of his associates approaching you. Phil had set up this Cayman account for some of our own activities. So, rather than get you involved, we arranged the transfer into your account. It was necessary because we wanted this done without your prior knowledge. This exchange was in keeping with Grant’s wishes. Don’t agonise about the method. Enjoy your millions.”
Julia smiled, “If you say so. I’m not sending him a ‘thank you’ note though. Where is he now?”
“What do you care? He won’t bother you again. The last time I saw him though, he was alive and kicking.”
* * *
Happy and comfortable in each other’s company, they chatted, sipped wine and kissed. The caressing got hot and heavy as time passed. Ramsay realised that it was time to take control and end this pleasant interlude. “It’s getting late, time I was leaving. Thanks for having me though, I’m glad I stopped by.” He rose from the couch and took her hand as she stood. She wore a forlorn expression that baffled him. “What is it? Something wrong?”
“Do you have to leave?”
Holding her hand, he walked to the door and opened it. “I wish I didn’t, baby, but I’ve got an early flight. I must be quick off the blocks tomorrow, that’s how I do things.”
“Please stay.” She was barefoot and had to stand tall on her toes to kiss him. As he stood with his back to the door, he leant in to meet her.
After a few minutes, he pulled away, “I’d love to, but I have to be fresh for that damn flight.”
Her hands were behind his neck as she drew him to her lips. “I kn
ow you do, darling, but this is happening.”
He felt the heat of her face on his, and he murmured as she kicked the door shut. Well, looks like it’s happening.
Chapter 14
He awoke the next morning without the need of an alarm. It was 4:30 am and, factoring in the drive to the airport, he had time to shower, change his clothes and brush his teeth. He could eat and shave at the airport. Tiptoeing from the bed, he looked across at Julia. She was out for the count. After pulling on his slacks, he put on his socks and made for the door. Careful to leave the latch down, he hurried to the back door. After opening it, he placed a nearby fire extinguisher in front of it to stop it from slamming shut. The only sound was the mounting chorus of birdsong. In the dim pre-dawn, he ran to his car and grabbed his suitcase, then dashed upstairs.
Ramsay did not believe in kismet, but he accepted coincidence and chance. He would face upcoming events as they came, knowing he had no control over them. For now, he had succeeded. That fact would not change. In his mind, the possibility of Sykes apprehending him loomed large. Not the end of the world. Damned inconvenient though.
* * *
By chance, DS Collins had drawn the graveyard shift the previous night. The purpose was to keep Julia Parry’s home under surveillance. Bored by the lack of action, he stretched his legs by taking a walk around the block. On his return journey, he passed the rear of the building. Keeping out of sight, he stood motionless as he watched a man emerge from the back door. He gasped when he saw Ramsay, in stockinged feet, run to his SUV. He waited as Ramsay returned to the building clutching his suitcase. While walking to his car, he grinned as he punched the number on his phone. “Morning, Chief. Did I wake you? I’ve got good news.”
DCI Sykes instructed Collins to move to the side street by Julia’s building. Collins had called for two cars and six uniformed officers to attend, but without sirens or flashing lights. Thanks to the early hour, traffic was light. The officers met Collins at 4:52.
Sykes had established that Ramsay would have to exit left into the one-way system. He briefed his men, reminding them that the suspect was not a dangerous criminal. As such, everyone should stay calm but alert. There was no cause to assume he was carrying a firearm. “He’ll be out soon, he has a morning flight booked. He won’t bolt or fight because he has no reason to. Once we have him, stand ready by your vehicles. No sudden moves, no heroics.”
* * *
Julia was still in a deep sleep. She had changed position on the bed and the covers had moved. He grinned as he admired her long, naked legs. Their activities had been cathartic for him. No more pressure; he had achieved what he had planned. Time to strike out for home. A note on her nightstand told her that he would call later.
Having showered and changed, he felt refreshed and ready to go. He took a last look at her, grabbed his suitcase and left.
The uniformed officer at the far end of the property waved to signal that Ramsay had left the building.
By the time he reached his car, the ascending cacophony of metropolitan life had begun. He buckled up his seat belt and started the engine. Moving parallel to Julia’s building, he took the left turn and eased into the one-way system.
Without warning, two cars formed a barrier twelve feet in front of him. In his rear-view mirror, he saw three police cars converge and stop another twelve feet behind him. Well, not armed response vehicles. Got to be Sykes. Sure enough, Sykes and Collins emerged from the lead cars.
Ramsay opened his phone keypad and pressed the number four. Eight miles away, Phil Wallace received the message then destroyed the phone.
The police cars disgorged six uniformed officers, who stood by their vehicles. Sykes and Collins walked to within four feet of Ramsay’s car. Sykes motioned him to leave the vehicle. He obliged. “Morning, Sykes.”
“Morning, Ramsay. Would you like to join us?”
“Like doesn’t come into it, Sykes. You know I’m in a bloody hurry, don’t you?”
“Yes. Sorry you can’t leave yet. I need you for questioning. It concerns charges brought against you. They include murder allegations.”
“So, you’re not arresting me then?”
“Not yet. At this stage we need to question you before we proceed further.”
“Then why the army? Isn’t this overkill?”
“Come on, Ramsay, we’ve seen the results of your work. We prefer no trouble. I have a warrant for your arrest, do you want me to serve it in the street?”
“Since you have no evidence against me, I don’t want you to arrest me at all. At least not until you’ve questioned me in the presence of my lawyer.”
“OK, fine.” Sykes nodded at Collins. “Sergeant.”
He took out his handcuffs and approached Ramsay, who stepped back. Without taking his eyes off him, he addressed Sykes. “Unnecessary, Inspector. You’ve invited me and I’m coming in to help with your inquiry.”
“Fair enough.” Sykes waved Collins back. “My car, two-man escort.”
Fair or otherwise, Ramsay knew it was pointless to argue. He walked to Sykes’ car and climbed into the back.
Chapter 15
In front of the desk sergeant, Sykes announced the procedure to Ramsay. He paused for his response, and Ramsay nodded to confirm his understanding. Sykes read from the charge sheet. “Thomas Ramsay, I am acting upon allegations brought against you about certain incidents. The assertions are, that on May 24th, 2006, you killed Todd Nelson on premises at Elite Automobiles. Also, that on the same day, you entered business premises owned by Gerry Grant and Alan Holmes. While there, you murdered Vincent Burroughs and Albert Entwistle. The owners state you attacked and wounded Len Duffy and Walter Powell. Mr Powell remains in a critical condition in hospital. They also maintain that you made an attempt on the life of Alan Paul Holmes, whom you shot and wounded.
“On the evening of May 24th, 2006, witnesses found the body of Alan Holmes at the above business premises. Because of the animosity between you, I would like to question you on this matter. Gerald Anthony Grant was in the company of the late Mr Holmes when I saw them both on the evening of the above date. Mr Grant’s present whereabouts are unknown, and I must also question you about that. You are here for questioning only. You are not obliged to say anything. If you do so...”
“Yes, I know the rest, Inspector.”
“Do you understand?”
“I do.”
“Do you wish to give me a statement now?”
“No. I will speak to you after I talk to my brief.”
“Do you wish to phone your lawyer now?”
“That won’t be necessary; my solicitor already knows of the situation. He’s on his way here.”
Although Sykes was not sure how that was possible, he believed Ramsay was telling the truth.
* * *
Ten minutes later, a man approached the desk sergeant. “Good morning, Sergeant, I’m Stuart Bailey. I’d like to see my client, Tom Ramsay.” He handed the officer his card.
The sergeant picked up his desk phone and called Sykes’s extension. “Mr Stuart Bailey’s here, Chief Inspector, for Mr Ramsay.” He replaced the receiver and addressed the lawyer. “He’ll be with you in a minute, sir.”
“Thank you.”
The door to the corridor opened, and Sykes walked up to the lawyer. “Good morning. Mr Bailey?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“I’m Chief Inspector Sykes.” They exchanged business cards and shook hands.
“I’ll see my client now if I may. We need to discuss the facts.”
“Follow me.”
Sykes led the way along the passage to the first interview room. Sitting inside was Ramsay and a policeman, ignoring each other. As Sykes and Bailey entered the room, Ramsay stood and looked at the well-dressed stranger, who walked past Sykes, with his right hand outstretched. “Stuart Bailey, how do you do, Mr Ramsay?”
“Nice to meet you. Thanks for getting here so quickly.”
“No problem,” he
said, handing Ramsay a card. “We run a twenty-four-hour emergency service.”
“I take it you know something of my predicament?”
“A rough idea, no facts yet.” Turning to Sykes, “Chief Inspector, could I be alone with my client? We have to discuss matters before your interview.”
“Yes. The constable will be outside; let him know when you’re ready.”
“Thank you, I will.” As soon as the two police officers left, Bailey set his legal pad binder on the table and unzipped it. “Right, first let me ask you: did the inspector outline the reasons he wished to question you?”
“Yes, he did.”
“Do you remember each of them?”
“I do. Every one.”
“Excellent. Let’s get to work.”
Ramsay sat back, joining his hands, and smiling at the way the lawyer was so quick off the mark. “Yes, let’s. I find it refreshing to meet a guy like you. Time is money isn’t it?”
“Ouch! A greedy lawyer joke. Be warned, I charge by the quarter-hour.”
“Blimey, we’d better get on with it then.” They smiled at that, then got down to business.
* * *
It took Bailey sixteen minutes to get the details he needed from Ramsay, listing each point on his legal pad. “This should be a short interview, and I’ll be asking DCI Sykes to drop the charges, or free you on your own recognisance.”
“That’s good news, but I suspect there’s a downside.”
“Yes. The police have a record of the allegations against you. So, they can still re-call you for further questioning, should any evidence come to light.”
