“I told you to rest. Get your head down."
Why was it so important that he sleep? What was the man planning? Ben slipped his phone out of a pocket, shielding it so the light wouldn’t show. Not much power, but he’d use up what he had. He opened the voice memo app and got ready to press record. Still clutching it he lay crumpled up on the seat, his breathing slow and steady. After a few minutes, he let out a snore for good measure.
Sure enough, five minutes later the man reached for the phone cradled on his dashboard and dialled a number.
“Fulton-Rhodes,” said a voice.
Ben pressed record.
“Shepherd here, we caught the Capgras boy.”
“What about your agent, the one who went rogue?”
“He attacked a uniformed officer. Stabbed him. He won’t get far."
“You mean you lost him? With all those resources? All that planning? We pulled a lot of strings for that operation. And you let the bastard slip away?”
Ben stirred in his seat, inching his phone out from under his body in case his clothes blocked the mic.
“We need to discuss our next moves,” Shepherd said. “Is the transfer of the Capgras woman arranged?”
“That boy with you?”
“Asleep.”
“Sure?”
“He can’t hear us."
“All right. We’ll put drugs and a weapon on the mother. Charge her with assault, some other stuff. She’ll be inside for long enough."
“What about the other business? We need to close all avenues that lead to Albright."
“We can’t touch Tom Capgras,” said the voice through the phone. “Not yet. We have to wait.”
“I’m exposed here."
“You’re the one who messed up, remember."
“I was following orders, did what was necessary."
“No one told you to shoot Albright. Damn fool. And you’re not the only one taking risks. If Apostle goes public, if Parliament gets involved…”
“All the more reason to deal with the journalist,” Shepherd said.
Ben checked his battery. It was getting low. He prayed for it to hold out longer, the way his uncle had taught him: ask all the gods, just in case.
“Patience,” the man said. “Once we have the Apostle material, then you can kill him. And good riddance.”
“Better if Naylor does it."
“I’d agree with you there. Leave it to a professional. Where will you take the boy?”
“My home."
“You sure about that?”
“He’ll come around."
“Don’t take chances.” The phone clicked off.
Ben pressed the stop button on his recording. Shepherd glanced over his shoulder into the back of the car. Ben lay still, his mind racing through ways to escape and how to get in touch with his uncle, and his mother, and wondering what they would do to them both, and to Mark. And to him, too, if he caused trouble. But for now, he needed to keep his phone hidden, long enough for it to connect to the cloud - and his encrypted backup storage, set up by Ruby, where it would be safe, secure and unseen by prying eyes.
Chapter 59
An Offer Of Help
The hairs on the back of his neck bristled. He was being followed, he sensed it. Tom slowed his pace as he neared the entrance to the self-build site where he lived. The muddy quagmire served as a refuge for the converted shipping container he had called home for the past three years.
As he slowed, footsteps approached from behind. Their pace changed, matching his. “Walk on."
Tom recognised that voice – Mark Waterstone. “What do you want?”
“Your help."
“With what?”
“Saving Ben.. Let’s get somewhere safe, where there are no cameras, no one watching. Your place is bugged."
“Bit paranoid aren’t you, for a policeman?”
“Shut up and walk. We’ve got a lot to talk about."
Mark’s voice sounded thin, as though his soul had been stretched on a rack. Tom crossed the road and the two men took a footpath between garden fences that led to a canal towpath. A jogger passed by. Ahead of them a determined Jack Russell dragged an old lady along the path.
“You kidnapped Ben,” Tom said. “Where is he?”
“I had to do it, only wanted to keep him safe."
“Safe from what?”
“From Bob Shepherd. Plans to turn him into his dutiful son and heir."
Tom snorted in derision. “Not much chance of that. Where is he now?”
Mark walked in silence, head hanging.
“What’s wrong. If anything’s happened…”
“It wasn’t my fault."
“Is he hurt?”
“No. I don’t think so."
“Don’t you know? Where is he?”
“They took him."
“Who?”
“We hid among the travellers. Police raided us. I fought them off, Ben ran but there’s been no word and Shepherd has him, I’m certain of it."
“Have you asked? He’s your boss after all."
“Not any more, not after that battle in the woods."
Tom glanced at Mark’s face as they walked. His jaw was working overtime, chewing over words he hadn’t yet spoken.
“What did you do?”
“I fought back."
“Against the police, in uniform? You were in the hippie commune, undercover?”
“I wasn’t spying. There to keep Ben safe is all."
“So he ran into the woods alone? He’s only eleven."
“I went back once the police had gone. They’d taken his belongings and called off the search. It’s only me they’re looking for now. They got Ben, I’m sure of it."
Tom stopped walking. He stared at the black water of the canal, the palms of his hands pressed against his temples. Think. How to rescue the boy? Lawyers? The courts? Or go direct? “Do you know where?”
“At Shepherd’s home, most likely."
“You know it?”
“Been there, yes."
Mark was a spy. They should use those skills. “Mend the bridges, win Shepherd’s trust back. We need a man on the inside."
“Can’t do it,” Mark said. “Daren’t show my face. I’ll be arrested."
“What did you do?”
“Stabbed a copper in the neck."
“My god…”
“Didn’t kill him, not as bad as it sounds."
“Bloody stupid thing to do."
“Had no choice."
“As for snatching Ben… The boy’s grandparents have been worried sick. We all have."
“I thought it was for the best."
“Didn’t turn out that way."
“Look, it’s done all right? We need to get him back. Work together."
Tom turned to face Mark, watching his expression. He was offering to help Ben though he hadn’t once asked after Emma. Perhaps he didn’t have the nerve. But what was his game? Which side was he on this time? Was this a double cross? A triple? Could he ever trust the man? “Do you have a plan?”
“We watch Shepherd’s house, grab Ben the first chance we get.”
“He knows us both,” Tom said. “Hard to remain unseen."
“There is another way. Offer them a deal…” Mark stopped dead in his tracks, staring ahead down the towpath. Three burly men in suits headed towards them, looking out of place on the muddy track. Tom glanced over his shoulder. Two more behind. A trap. “You bastard."
“It’s me they want,” Mark said. “I have to get out of here.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure."
“Split up, run."
“You run,” Tom said. “I’m taking my chances.”
“I’ll call you.” Waterstone leapt a fence into a back garden that bordered the canal. A plant pot shattered, Mark swore, picked himself up and sprinted off down an alleyway.
Tom calmly took out his phone and sent an emergency message to Ruby, telling her to alert his brother and Jon Fit
zgerald at the newspaper, and his favourite human rights lawyers. Sure enough, the bruisers didn’t chase Mark. They weren’t here for Waterstone, or Rockford or whatever he was calling himself. They were here for Tom Capgras.
Chapter 60
Cards On The Table
Capgras resigned himself to his fate. Why try to fight or flee? They were professional thugs, ex-military by the look of them. If they didn’t get him now, they soon would. They knew where he lived, where he worked, where he did his laundry, who was in his contacts book, what he ate for breakfast, and likely as not the colour of his underpants. He put up no resistance. The men surrounded him all the same, eager to do the dominance thing. They led him along the towpath and down a lane to a side-street where three black SUVs with engines idling waited alongside a Jaguar saloon with darkened windows. The car oozed ostentation. Whoever designed it had doubtless been aiming at understated elegance combined with raw automotive power but the net effect was that of unrestrained extravagance. It existed to display wealth. It spoke of status.
That was good news. This would be no murder on the backstreets. They weren’t here to beat or torture him. Whoever owned this car wouldn’t show himself near a grubby little crime. He would save himself for the white collar corruption. He was here to talk.
One of the heavies opened the rear door of the Jag. “Get in."
Capgras slid onto the soft leather of the back seat. In the front, Owen Naylor rode shotgun next to a chauffeur in a cap and uniform. On the back seat sat a dapper man in his sixties wearing an immaculate charcoal suit, white shirt and dark blue tie. His slick black hair was greying at the temples. Tom scrutinised the face, trying to place him.
“Welcome, Mr Capgras.” The man tapped the driver on the shoulder and the car eased along the street with barely a hum of an engine, only the gentle crunch of tyres on tarmac. “You’ve met my colleague, Mr Naylor.”
“I still have the bruises."
“He gets carried away."
“I wonder why."
“To business. You recognise me?”
“I do…”
“But you’re struggling for a name?”
“I could find it, if I needed to."
“You’ve memorised the details, I’m sure. Sir Leo Fulton-Rhodes. You can call me Sir Leo. Everyone does."
“Even your wife?”
“This is not the time and place for flippant remarks, Mr Capgras. We are dealing with issues of state security. Something you have compromised."
“You’re here in an official capacity?”
“This is unofficial, at the moment. For which you should be grateful.” Fulton-Rhodes smirked to himself. “Off the record, as you journalists like to put it."
“Life’s all on the record, for me.” Tom noticed Naylor’s head twitch in the front seat, as though the man wanted to drag him out of the car and give him a kicking.
“Did you enjoy your time in prison, Mr Capgras?” Sir Leo didn’t look at him, but kept staring straight ahead.
“Not so much."
“I can imagine. I’m sure you’re not keen to go back. Then there’s your sister to consider."
“What does she have to do with anything?”
“She’s your sister. That’s enough."
“You should leave her alone, or things might get unpleasant."
Sir Leo turned his head to look at him, with all the haste of a glacier crushing a small town. “I believe if anyone is in a position to issue threats, then it’s me. Emma is on her way to a private sector jail run by DarkReach."
“Run by you, in other words."
“Indeed. We can make her life a misery. Or let her go."
“They put you in charge of justice? The appeals process?”
“A prison governor has remarkable power, especially if there are issues around compassionate leave. She could be out of custody remarkably soon and home with her beloved son.”
“Yes, about Ben…”
“The boy is safe with his natural father."
“Who has no right…”
“He has every right. But fear not. Emma will be released, and Ben returned to her. All will be well with the Capgras family once more."
“This is very generous. Were you thinking of asking anything in return?”
“Indeed. You’re one step ahead of me, Mr Capgras.”
“Please don’t patronise me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. Now, the deal is simple. You meet my conditions or your sister is accused of additional offences committed while in our penal institution. Drugs, violence, that kind of thing, with lots of evidence and witnesses. Enough to ensure she remains locked up indefinitely. Bob Shepherd gains custody of Ben and your family never sees the boy again. Your brother Ollie is discredited, struck off and barred from ever practicing the law. Your father is made redundant. As for yourself, you go to prison for life and forsake forever the fresh air of freedom. You’ll die in jail."
“Or?”
“You hand over everything you possess on Apostle, all copies, all knowledge. You sign the Official Secrets Act, and a binding contract agreeing not to discuss or write about any of this business, or to reveal the contents of this agreement. The legal documents will, I assure you, be watertight. You’re welcome to read them in advance, of course, but the upshot is, frankly, that you keep your mouth shut, forever. And return our information."
“Did you kill Albright?” Tom stared straight ahead. “And his girl?”
Naylor twitched once more, the slightest jerk of the head enough to confirm he had a hand in at least one of the murders. Tom was not a violent man, but he would enjoy taking revenge on whoever killed Izzy Huxley. The world was a better place with women like that around.
“It’s time to stop asking questions.” Sir Leo sounded uncannily like a private school matron reprimanding the sixth form. “No more newspaper stories. Agree to the conditions and remove this ridiculous threat. This… what do you call it?”
“Dead man’s handle."
“Destroy it, and all data. And provide a list of everyone with whom you shared these state secrets."
“There’s a whole newsroom."
“Injunctions are remarkably effective. We want the names of anyone else you told. Do it, in full, and both your sister and your nephew go free. Everyone is happy.” Sir Leo drummed his fingers as though savouring the moment. “So, time to choose."
“You want an answer now?”
“I see no point in waiting. Agree to the terms. It’s the only decision that makes sense."
“What about my principles? A free press, the greater good?”
“Oh, very laudable. But you’re one vulnerable man and you care for your family. All the principles in the world won’t ease your conscience if your sister rots in jail. How will you live with yourself?”
“I could go public."
“Who would believe you? Who would print it?”
“There’s the internet."
“Which is overflowing with crackpot conspiracy theories. People think you’re a nut already, Mr Capgras. You do know that?”
Tom gestured to the front seats. “There are witnesses."
“I pay my people well, and in return they are loyal."
“That can change."
“It won’t. You would risk your family on such a slim chance? Your answer, Mr Capgras."
Fulton-Rhodes was right. He had no choice. “How do I know I can trust you?”
“There’s nothing vindictive in all of this. I bear no grudge against your sister and certainly don’t want your nephew. Providing you give me adequate assurances, hand over the evidence, name the names and sign the papers, do all of that and I will keep my word. You don’t get to be powerful and important if nobody trusts you."
“Give me a few days.”
“The papers are here, ready."
“I need time."
“Don’t try to trick me, Mr Capgras."
“I have to sort things out. The material is scattered. Del
iberately."
“All the same, a signature would be a sign of faith."
“Let me speak to Emma. Make sure she’s all right."
“Don’t be so melodramatic. She’s not being held by gangsters, she’s in a state run prison."
“State run?”
“She is about to be transferred."
She wasn’t there yet. DarkReach didn’t have their hands on her. Not yet. He could use this. “I demand to speak to her."
“As soon as she arrives in our facility, I will arrange it personally."
“I talk to her first. That’s the deal,” Capgras said. “Only then do I sign anything, or give you the evidence. Or disable the dead man’s handle. When can I call her?”
Sir Leo’s expression had morphed from condescension to anger. “In time."
When would they move her? Not on a Friday evening. Not over the weekend. “When?”
“Soon. We will be in touch."
“You do that."
“In the meantime, don’t do anything rash."
“I won’t. But be sure no one harms my sister."
“Then we have an understanding."
“Of sorts, I guess."
“A provisional agreement. That’s a start."
“Not binding."
“Not yet.” Sir Leo leaned forward and tapped his chauffeur’s shoulder. The driver eased off the main road and into a parking spot. “Please don’t disappoint me. Or cause me any trouble."
Capgras wasted no time getting out of the car. “Take care of Emma for me.” He slammed the door shut. The Jaguar slithered into traffic with a swoosh of tyres.
Tom watched it go, memorising the number plate. It would be a long walk home but that would give him a chance to think about a tough decision. As things stood, he had little choice. But there might be a way to get them both safe, provided they could co-ordinate it. Then go public before Sir Leo had chance to strike. Once the evidence was out there his threats would mean nothing. Emma. Ben. He had to save them both. But first, he needed to find them.
Chapter 61
Prison Break
Ben sat at the kitchen table with his head down, staring at the maths book, pretending to do sums. Shepherd had given him homework to “keep him sharp” until a school could be arranged. The work was too easy, an insult. Ben finished it an hour ago, but it served his purposes to appear busy.
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