Christina slipped on a pair of skin-coloured protective gloves and took the phone from Liz’s bag. She held the phone’s circular pad to Liz’s limp index finger in the hope that she added finger print acceptance. The screen lit. She then looked at the text messages. Keep her still, only her fingers are to touch this screen. She read them through.
“Bloody hell, she’s got a dirty weekend planned. Train to Leeds tonight. Someone called Jim. Lucky Jim! I think not!” Christina slid Liz’s paralysed finger down the screen and began to type a message with it. Christina had noticed that Liz always signed off her message to him with the name ‘Pook’, ending with four ‘kisses’. She followed suit.
‘Jim, something serious has cropped up at work and I can’t make it this weekend, sooooo sorry. I’ll make it up to you. It’ll be worth the wait, believe me! Don’t call me before Monday. You know the work I do. Just think about what’s waiting. When you get this show you love me and understand by sending just a kiss. Pook xxxx.’
She turned the phone off silent before looking at the man holding Liz. The phone made a sound like an old claxon. A single cross filled the space on the screen.
“Technology’s, wonderful!” Christina whispered into Liz’s now deaf ear.
Christina put on Liz’s coat; it was a little on the small size but if anyone noticed her entering the flat, it would be a useful disguise. She picked up Liz’s bag, opened it and checked inside to ensure that Liz’s keys were there. She added the phone.
“You know where to take her.”
Christina left through the front door.
It had not been difficult finding the apartment. She had followed Liz twice to ensure that she had the correct home address, the third time she had checked the name on the pigeonhole post box in the entrance hall. Within ten minutes she was pulling up outside Liz’s apartment. She parked the car, slid on some dark, protective overshoes, locked the vehicle and entered through the main door. Liz’s flat was on the second floor. Quickly she looked at the post boxes fixed to the left wall. Without touching them, she ran her finger down stopping at each name until she reached E Graydon. She inserted a key from the bunch and opened the small door; four letters had been posted. She collected them before depositing the piece of bicycle spoke, onto which had been added a paper tag simply containing one sentence: KכNI-MAN DAI, KכNI-MAN BεR AM. She raised her shoulders and smiled as the letterbox door was closed and locked. She then took the stairs to the second floor.
It was a gamble, but Christina presumed that, owing to the age of the building, there would be no alarm. She held her breath as she slipped the key into the lock. It wouldn’t turn. She looked carefully at the three other keys on the ring. Using the second key, she pushed the door ajar. Before entering she paused and held her breath, waiting for the warning bleep indicating that an alarm needed a code. To her relief, there was only silence. She pushed the door open.
Once inside, she closed the door and located the light switch. An overnight case sat to the left of the hall. Taking off Liz’s coat, she dropped it carefully onto the case before putting the phone, the retrieved mail and the keys on the small side table. She glanced around a second time and it was then that she saw the corner of the envelope protruding from Liz’s inner coat pocket. She opened it and read the details. She read it again. A flush of excitement made her tingle and utter a single question. “Why?” She returned it to the coat pocket, making one final visual check before turning and switching off the light. She dropped the latch on leaving. It was done. As the door closed behind her she paused. Voices could be heard drifting up from the entrance hall at the bottom of the stairs. Christina looked at the coverings on her shoes; should she remove them in case they were heading to the second flat on this floor, keep them on and just leave the building, or wait? The consequences of each action instantly flashed through her mind and she decided on the latter option. She controlled her breathing. Her sense of hearing seemed to be heightened. The phantom voices were now laughing and then she heard a door close, the sounds slowly evaporating. Relieved, she moved to the top of the stairs before cautiously descending. The entrance hall was empty. Sweat dribbled down the inner parts of her arms.
Once outside, the cold air hit her like a slap, it seemed so bracing. She took a deep breath before moving down the drive and onto the street. The streetlights had just come on, offering a dull, pink glow, a complement to the autumnal dusk’s misty light. After two hundred yards she removed the overshoes and headed back to the office. If everything went to plan, at worst they would have twenty-four hours but at best it would be Monday morning before anyone knew that Liz Graydon was missing. It had been easier than she could possibly have imagined.
***
Owen received a call from West Yorkshire Police. Dan Rowney had apparently left work early on account of a phone call from his partner. The secretary mentioned that she had an emergency. They had checked their apartment but it was empty. Dan’s car wasn’t there either. Checks of local hospitals had proved negative and both their mobiles were off. A neighbour intimated that Karen had left the building in the company of a man at about 13:30. She looked anxious, but that was all she could reveal. Owen took Dan’s work number and requested that someone remain at the apartment block in case they returned.
He rang Liz but her phone went directly to answer phone. “Shit!”
Owen found Shakti at a desk in the Incident Room. “Did Liz contact Dan Rowney before she left, do you know? Can’t raise her!”
“Remember, she had a meeting with Grant, Valerie’s agent at three but he didn’t show.” She looked at the time on the computer screen. “About now, she’ll be dossing in a bath full of bubbles, early finish, said she’d be turning her phone off. You were here when she called, when I spoke with her, remember.” Shakti checked the computer to see what Liz had uplifted, but there was no record of when she had logged on. She crossed to the desk Liz was using before flicking through her notes. “Nothing here also, why?”
“We’re arranging police support for Dan and his partner for the weekend owing to the sensitivity of the data he’s party to but it appears they’ve both gone AWOL. He left work after receiving some kind of emergency call from his partner, Karen Johnson. There’s no sign of either of them nor of his car. She was last seen accompanied by a stranger. That’s it. An alert is out for them and his vehicle.”
Owen picked up the phone and waited. He looked at Shakti and raised his eyebrows. “I don’t want button one or pigging two, I want a real bloody person for Christ sa… Hello DS Owen from North Yorkshire Police, I should like to speak to someone who saw Dan Rowney leave the premises today, it’s a matter of urgency.”
He listened as the Receptionist repeated what she had told the police when they had called at the office earlier. Owen went cold for a moment and interrupted.
“Did the police come for Mr Rowney or did they arrive after he left?”
“It was a good hour after Mr Rowney left when they called. Dan drove off like the devil was after him, Dan Rowney, that is. Not the way to treat a company car in my opinion, all smoking tyres. Is he in trouble?”
“What did he say as he left?”
“He tossed over his ID in a bit of a panic, suggesting that there was some domestic emergency. That’s all. Logged him out at…. 13:47.”
“Was he carrying anything?”
“Mr Owen, Mr Rowney goes nowhere without his laptop, he’s our best IT guy. We call him the PC Doctor, even wears a white coat! I’m sure he’ll find a way to take it to his grave.”
Owen wondered just how appropriate that statement might be, but said nothing. Thanking the Receptionist he noted her name and direct number.
“Wherever he’s gone he has his laptop with him.”
Owen’s mobile rang, it was control. West Yorks had located Dan’s car. He looked at Shakti and mouthed what he was hearing. “Are Forensics on the way? Please ask them to keep us informed.”
“No sign of him?”
“Nothing, we were too bloody late. Keep trying Liz.”
“Sir, she’s away for the weekend. She only collected the computer and delivered it. She sent the master password and an image of it to the Tech people. I checked it for her. See!” She located the relevant file. “Here! We have all that we need, Liz doesn’t need to be here.”
Owen just grunted and left to find Cyril.
“You’re blocking the light, either move away from the door and sit down or communicate and go.”
“No sign of either Rowney or his partner. Car’s be found abandoned on Wassenden Head Road between Meltham and…”
Owen didn’t finish as he noted Cyril’s expression, one that said do not tell me the bleeding obvious!
“Any road, Sir. No sign of the driver.”
“The Moors’ murderers, Owen. You studied the case at police training? Please say that you did.”
Owen nodded. “Some kids, five I think, some never found. Brady and Hindley buried them out on the moorlands not far from Manchester. One’s still inside.”
“Same piece of moorland the car was found. Can be bleak in the winter, cut by the Pennine Way. Why there? Could they have asked him to meet? Has he gone home and found a note? Forensics?”
“On their way. Where have I heard the word Hindley recently?” Owen pulled a face, screwing his eyes as if in deep thought.
“You’ll rupture something, Owen, if you’re not careful!”
“That’s it!’ Owen clicked his finger and thumb as his facial gurn evaporated. “Valerie’s brother, that’s it. He buggered off after having a tiff with Val’s partner to a place called Hindley Green. Teaching job. Thought I’d heard it recently.”
“Remind me, Owen. Hindley Green is where?”
Owen nearly fell off his chair. For the first time in all the years they had been together, his boss’s geographical knowledge had deserted him.
“Hindley Green it’s near Wigan.”
“Yes, yes, between Hindley and Leigh. How could I possibly forget?”
Owen frowned, sure that Cyril had known all along.
“Hindley… Coincidence, that’s all. Get onto the National ANPR Data centre for any references to Range Rovers within the last four hours in a twenty mile radius of where the car was left. For the sake of our sanity, get them to narrow it down to those painted in dark colours. Where’s Liz?”
“Off early, social weekend.” Owen winked at Cyril.
“Weekend, Owen? What on earth is that? Social weekend… never heard of it. Go for your weekend after you’ve done that. Early briefing Monday remember but keep your mobile close. We need to act swiftly when we receive the data or find out where our missing couple is.”
Owen left and Cyril checked his watch, dinner date with Julie in exactly two hours. He had time to hand things over and walk home but he had a clear feeling that he would see his desk again early the next day. It was ever thus!
***
The Stray was deserted. The periphery lights left vast swathes in darkness. The driver parked some distance from the Stray Agency building before going to the side door of the van. He slipped on a black, hooded jacket and a pair of oversized shoes. The left one he placed on his right foot and the right on his left; it would bring a moment’s confusion for the CSI people, he thought, if they were to turn up. He picked up the air rifle and carefully broke open the barrel before inserting his home made dart. The safety was applied and he was ready. He slipped the gun into a black sleeve.
Keeping out of the light, he moved onto The Stray. The light above the main door was still on and the light in the hall, as always, illuminated the stained glass immediately above the door. All other rooms were in darkness. He removed the air rifle from the sleeve. An occasional car passed on the far edge of The Stray but there was, as hoped, little activity at three in the morning.
Bringing the stock to his shoulder, he looked through the telescopic sight bringing the coloured, glazed window into magnified view. He focussed the sight carefully before bringing the upper, small window to fill it; the eye of God stared back defiantly down the scope. He steadied his breathing knowing that he had only one chance. He lowered the gun. He took one full look around before bringing the sight in line with the target. His thumb flicked the safety off as his finger gently squeezed the trigger. The popping sound seemed louder in the quiet of the night. He then heard the faint sound of breaking glass, which brought an immediate smile to his face, until the siren’s wail of a distant emergency vehicle made his heart flutter. He lowered the gun to his side as he crouched low. To his relief, he realised that the wailing sound was heading away from and not towards him. He brought the scope again to his eye and focussed on the target.
The dart had penetrated the lower left piece of lead that surrounded the eye, removing a small piece of glass in the process. There had been only a few stray pieces of glass entering the hall and the alarm remained silent. As quickly as possible he sleeved the gun and returned to the van. Tomorrow the damage would be reported and another game would begin.
***
The warmth emanated from Cyril’s naked body as Julie slipped her knees like a piece of a jigsaw puzzle into his, whilst one arm wrapped over his waist. His deep, rhythmic breathing gave her a sense of security. She lay there for a while enjoying his warm scent.
It was still dark when she carefully slipped out of bed. Cyril stirred but did not wake; he simply rolled onto the warm sheets she had vacated. She checked the bedside clock, it was 06:50. She stretched and slipped on a dressing gown before sauntering into the kitchen. Cyril’s electronic cigarette was on the worktop, linked by its umbilical cord to the socket. A small, green eye winked as if seeking attention. She picked it up placing it between her lips and pressed the button. The sickly sweet, menthol flavour struck the back of her throat and she started to cough.
“Bad for you that and besides you don’t have any vices, Pritchett, that’s what you keep telling me. Put it down before it kills you!”
Julie laughed and coughed at the same time, whilst tears ran down her cheeks. “Bloody hell, Cyril, that’s disgusting.”
“Would you like to bring it here and I’ll show you how it should be done without coughing and spluttering over everyone and disturbing the innocent?”
Still coughing she unplugged the device and took it to Cyril who immediately grabbed her hand. “Resuscitation is in order, I think,” before pulling her back to the bed. The e-cigarette was forgotten.
A low sun penetrated the small apertures of the Venetian blinds patterning the far wall. Cyril stared at them and exhaled the minty vapour. Julie was tucked under the quilt; the roles were reversed. He slipped out of bed, put on a dressing gown and retrieved his phone from his jacket. To his relief there were no messages. He needed a coffee.
***
Christina Cameron unlocked the front door to the Stray Agency and hit the alarm key buttons, silencing the annoying beep before heading up the stairs to the first landing. Three small pieces of coloured glass lay under the window. She glanced up at the eye of God to see the piece of bicycle spoke protruding from the lead. A crack ran from one side of the glass to the other and three smaller fractures bled into the edge. She returned to her office. She neither wanted to report the damage nor inform Frederick. She wanted him to find it. He was due in at ten. She’d simply make a coffee and wait for the outcry!
***
The thumping in her head seemed unbearable. Liz could neither move her arms nor her legs. She knew that she was horizontal and that her arms were above her head but she had little free movement. She also realised that she was dressed in a one-piece paper suit. She opened her eyes slowly and the little light there was gave her no clue as to her location. She was scared, hurt and frightened. Her mind focussed on the last moments of consciousness. She remembered the coffee and then the feeling that the room was swirling. She had seen the painting and the silly little figures. It was then that she vaguely recalled Cameron’s smiling face as the needle was slowly
inserted into her arm. After that everything seemed jumbled and unreal. She pulled at the ties that held her but she had little strength or will. A small bell sounded in some distant place. She suddenly felt anxious, a feeling of nausea flooded her stomach again. As she relaxed the bell stopped ringing.
A silhouetted figure appeared at the doorway. Liz tried to focus on the movement within the darkness but she discerned nothing. She felt the warmth of a hand gently wrap behind her head and lift her. For a moment she was more uncomfortable and she wriggled. She heard the bell again.
“The more you move, the more we hear.”
“Drink this, it will help.” A straw was placed between her lips.
She filled her mouth trying to taste whatever she had been offered; it was milk. She swallowed and drank again.
“This is only something to help you relax, nothing like before.”
Liz tried to focus on the face but the lack of light made it impossible. She uttered feeble thanks and then kicked herself. She drank more and then her head was returned to the pillow. She watched as the figure moved to the door. The true darkness returned.
Game Point Page 11
