His opportunity presented itself a few minutes later when a young girl arrived to take their order. They were apparently here for breakfast, and as they were engaged with the waitress he hunkered down subtly in his chair, slipped his hand backwards and down into her bag and carefully lifted out her car keys, which were easy enough to find. As soon as he had them, he stood up casually, checked his watch, and left. His work here was done and there was no point in hanging around for any longer than was necessary. 09:35. Now for a leisurely trip up into the Pennine hills.
Perfect timing, as ever.
10
Chloe was making good progress with the files that Drake had left on her desk. There was nothing she couldn’t handle - some run-of-the-mill divorce cases and a few child related matters involving access rights and care proceedings. She’d seen all this before. One matter in particular did however catch her attention. The firm were representing the mother of a young boy who was in the process of being taken into care due to the treatment he had received at the hands of his mother’s boyfriend. Chloe shook her head as she read through the details. It seemed to be such a common situation now. There were photographs of the boy in the file and they didn’t make for pleasant viewing. This was the kind of case that Chloe hated, but she knew that everyone was entitled to legal representation, so she would do the best she could for the mother, as ever.
‘Hi, my name’s Ray Fuller. I’m an associate solicitor here. I guess you must be the new trainee. Your first day is it?’
Chloe turned in her chair to find a very plain looking man in his early thirties standing in her comfort zone. Although he was wearing the standard suit and tie, the cut was poor and it just didn’t hang right from his wiry frame. She also noticed that his face was too thin, making his attempt at stubble look ridiculous somehow, almost rodent-like. The air around her instantly became musty and close, making her feel nauseous.
‘Yes. Yes, hello. Erm, I’m Chloe. Chloe Webster. Pleased to meet you.’ She offered him her hand but he clearly wasn’t expecting it and didn’t seem to notice. ‘I’m not the new trainee though. I mean, I am new, but I’m a qualified solicitor, not a trainee.’
‘Really? My secretary told me you were a trainee.’ He seemed to be looking her up and down and Chloe felt a shiver run up her spine. ’Anyway, I’ve got a couple of files here I’d like you to deal with. I’ve got far too much on at the moment and I’ve been waiting for you to start so that you can take some of the load off me.’ He dropped a hefty pile of files on her desk with a thud, and Chloe was sure that a faint cloud of dust formed in the air around them.
‘Yes, of course. Thanks. I’ll look at them today.’
‘You’re welcome, I’m sure there will be plenty more where that came from. I assume you’ve run your own caseload before?’
‘Yes. I had a full load at my last firm. They let me have complete responsibility for them. It was great experience.’
‘Where was that?’ He seemed interested so Chloe was happy to oblige him.
‘Finch Harrison. It’s out in Derbyshire. It’s a lovely firm to work at, small and friendly.’ For the second time today she instantly regretted her words as soon as they were out.
‘I’ve never heard of it. Still, it takes all sorts I suppose. I dare say these small firms have a place in the system somewhere. The work you get to deal with here will be of the highest quality. We do some really important stuff.’
Chloe wanted to defend the firm that taught her all she knew, but thought better of it this time.
‘Yes, I’m sure you do. What’s your area of expertise?’
‘Well, family law generally of course; this whole floor is devoted to family law and related matters. But the child stuff is what interests me the most.’
‘It can get very emotional,’ agreed Chloe.
‘Oh that doesn’t bother me, I find it easy enough to detach myself from the human side of it. I just find it all so fascinating.’ And with that he wandered off back towards his desk on the next row. Chloe didn’t really know what to make of what he’d said, but before long she was deep in the files that he’d left for her. They were very uninteresting, and she made a mental note not to become an easy dumping ground for Ray Fuller’s unwanted cast-offs.
11
The Timer enjoyed his drive up into the hills of the Pennines. As soon as he set off he tuned the radio to his favourite classical music station.
Ah, The Piano Sonata Number Sixteen in C Major if I am not mistaken.
He certainly knew his classical music, and it helped him relax as he made his way along the Woodhead pass, a windy and often treacherous road connecting Sheffield and Manchester over the Pennine hills. He was clear of the top and beginning his descent of the western side of the hills, and he expected to encounter the truck coming in the opposite direction any time now. He gave the task his full concentration, as the mist which had enveloped Sheffield itself had transformed into a much denser fog during the drive up here. On-coming traffic ghosted into view and disappeared again at such a speed that checking number plates was far from easy.
This wasn’t the first time he’d done this of course. It was a standard method of operation for Drabble. After importation through Liverpool the goods would be smuggled onto a truck at the docks and carried by an unsuspecting driver. Once clear, removal of the goods would be arranged at a convenient point. That’s where he came into the picture. Not yet sure where that convenient point would be, he knew from experience that an opportunity would come his way before long.
A huge truck appeared over the brow of the hill and thundered passed the Audi. It wasn’t the one he was looking for. Close behind it was another truck which was gone before he had a chance to read its plate. Fortunately, the road was relatively straight here and a glance in his rear view mirror allowed him just enough time to make out the first four digits of the plate before it disappeared into the fog. The digits matched the plate he had been given and he considered it was too much of a coincidence for it not to be the one he was searching for. He needed to get after it, but finding somewhere to spin the Audi round wasn’t going to be easy on this road. Several cars passed him from the opposite direction before he saw a small road off to the left. There were many reservoirs along this stretch and this narrow lane probably provided access to one of them. He pulled into the side road which, due to the shallow angle it formed with the main road, left plenty of room for him to turn the car around. He set off in pursuit of the truck, glad of the additional power which the Audi provided as it pulled back up the hill towards the summit.
Pushing the car to a speed which was probably not safe on the windy road, especially in the appalling weather conditions, he came up close behind the rear lights of the last car to have passed him. He could make out another set of red lights beyond it, but further into the distance the thick fog blocked his view. He had little choice but to sit and wait behind the car, knowing that the truck would probably be near the front of this line of traffic; the road had few turnoffs suitable for a vehicle of that size, and in any case, he had been told it was on its way to Sheffield, so there was no need to panic.
A few miles on, a lay-by which was popular with truck drivers loomed out of the mist on the left. Touching his foot gently on the brake, he slowed the car down and examined the scene. Surrounded by tall, upright pine trees, a small wooden food hut that had seen better days stood next to several parked trucks and at the far end he saw what could be his target. Passing the line of parked vehicles, he checked the registration plate.
That’s my baby.
He quickly pulled the Audi into the lay-by beyond the truck and sat watching in his rear view mirror. There was no sign of the driver and he assumed he must have already set off to the café for his breakfast. The Timer opened his door and stepped out onto the tarmac, glad that the fog was still thick enough to give him some cover. He moved quickly down the side of the truck furthest from the roadside so as not to be unnecessarily observed by any passing vehicle
s. He looked down the row to the cabin of the next truck to ensure no one was watching him, but that was also empty. The Timer drew his knife and stuck it into the tarpaulin, slicing open a couple of yards of the fabric, amazed at how easy it split open. He pulled out a torch and climbed inside.
The truck was loaded with unmarked wooden crates and he had been lucky to enter at a point where he could squeeze through to the centre of the wagon, where a gangway had been deliberately left running down the middle of the cargo. He moved quickly up and down looking between the crates for the bag.
The engine grumbled into life and the truck jerked to a start almost instantaneously.
The Timer cursed but had no choice other than to stay on board until he located the bag. He continued to search the spaces between the boxes as the truck picked up speed, and eventually found it stuffed down between a crate and the back of the truck’s cabin. The lorry was in full motion now, and he could feel it swaying as the road turned this way and that. He pulled the bag out from its hiding place and looked inside. The drugs were wrapped in opaque blue plastic but he knew what they were. He zipped it up and made his way back to where he’d cut open the tarpaulin. The cold air rushed in through the hole as the vehicle travelled over the hills. He pulled his coat closer around him to keep out the chill. All he had to do now was to wait for an opportunity to escape this moving prison. He knew the truck was going to Sheffield, so he could afford to wait a while. He relaxed. Things had actually worked out quite well.
12
‘Hello, Chloe Webster speaking.’
‘Yes, there’s a client down here asking to see the solicitor dealing with her matter. Her name is Miss Swanson. The system has you down as the solicitor responsible.’
‘Oh. Does she have an appointment do you know?’
‘No idea.’
Very helpful. ‘Okay. I’ll be down in a minute. Tell her to take a seat.’
‘I’ve already done that,’ snapped the receptionist.
The phone went dead and Chloe rolled her eyes. She grabbed the files on her desk and started to flick through them. Swanson. She’d read the name somewhere.
‘Got it,’ she said to herself and opened the file. Her heart skipped a beat as she realised it was the child abuse case she had been reading earlier. Miss Swanson’s boyfriend had inflicted some nasty injuries on her six year old son. Not a meeting she would have chosen to have within a couple of hours of starting at a new firm, but at least it was something to get her teeth into. She noticed there was nothing on the file to suggest that the client was due to come in today.
Chelsie Swanson was twenty five, just a year older than Chloe, but looked nearer to forty. She couldn’t have weighed more than seven or eight stone and looked worn out and tired of the life she had been handed. Chloe was sure she could see grey amongst the mousey hair which hung lifelessly from the young girl’s head, and any sense of outrage that Chloe had felt as she’d read the file drained away at the sight of this helpless human being.
‘Hello Miss Swanson, I’m Chloe Webster. I’m the solicitor acting for you on this matter. I understand the Local Authority intend to apply for a care order for George?’
The girl opposite her looked embarrassed. She looked down at the desk between them and twisted a length of hair around her fingers like a child. ‘I don’t really understand what that means.’
Chloe smiled. ‘I’m sorry Chelsie. My name’s Chloe and I’m here to help you. The authorities want to take George away from you and it’s my job to see if we can stop that happening.’
‘They can’t do that can they? I mean, it wasn’t my fault. Mark was such a bastard. I couldn’t do anything to stop it. Do they really think I wanted this to happen?’
‘Is Mark your partner?’
‘He was.’
‘Where’s George now?’
‘He’s at my mum’s place.’ Her eyes looked watery.
‘Okay, good. Now, he’s six years old isn’t he, and how’s he doing?’
‘He’s all right. He’s a tough little thing. I’m so proud of him. I’d do anything to protect him, but Mark was so strong, I couldn’t stop him.’
‘I know. Don’t worry, there are things we can do. One possibility might be for George to remain with your mum for a short time until things are sorted out, until you show the authorities that you can provide a safe environment for George.’
Chelsie smiled for the first time.
‘Really? That would be great. He’d love that, and it would give me a chance to turn things round. I know I can look after him. I’ll do anything to keep him safe. That bastard won’t get anywhere near him again.’
‘Is he still in your life?’
‘No. He’s in police custody at the moment and I hope he stays there. We’re not together anymore. And we never will be again.’
‘Good. That’s the first thing we’ll need to show. I’ll get in touch with the local authority and work out what they want to do next. It’ll probably involve some kind of meeting with them, but I’ll let you know as soon as I know anything.’
‘Okay, thank you so much. You’ve really helped to put my mind at rest.’
‘I’m not making any promises here, Chelsie. If it goes to court they have a very strong case. George has been hurt, and the court’s main concern will be that it doesn’t happen again. We need to persuade them that you can keep George safe. Here’s my card with my contact details on. Get in touch if anything happens. The most important thing is to keep Mark away from George, but if he’s locked up, that shouldn’t be a problem.’
‘Oh don’t worry; I won’t let that monster anywhere near my boy. It won’t happen again.’
Chloe was drawn to something in her eyes that she hadn’t noticed before. A steely determination perhaps, or maybe a sense of purpose?
Or was it more sinister than that?
13
It was obvious to the Timer that the truck was now in the city. The regular stopping and starting could only be due to heavy traffic, road junctions and the like. He carefully pushed the tarpaulin open and peered out. The thick fog had eased now that they were out of the hills again, but a mist still lingered. He saw rows of stone-built terraced houses go by but nothing significant that he recognised. Further down the road a row of shops flashed by and he realised from the names on the frontages that he wasn’t in Sheffield at all, but that the truck had in fact come into Barnsley. This could be a problem; he was only a few miles north of Sheffield, but he had an appointment later that day. And although he had never been late for anything, this was certainly not the time to start.
The view through the hole suggested a fairly central location, and when the truck next stopped he took the chance to clamber out onto the pavement. Confident no one had noticed him, he clasped the bag close and hurried off back in the direction from which he had just travelled.
He checked his watch. 11:40. This was going to be a close call. The meeting was at one o’clock; just over an hour to get there. He needed another car, and quickly. There was no time to be choosey for this one; any car would have to do. He broke into a light jog and turned up the first side road he came across. Rows of terraced houses flanked the cobbled street as it ran steeply uphill before him. A few cars dotted the roadside but not many; most people would be at work at this time. As he moved past each car he tried the door discreetly, but they were all locked up securely. He had lost count of the number of times he had done this before and easily found an unlocked car just begging to be stolen. Now, when he needed to find one quickly they were all locked up like Fort Knox.
He checked his watch again. 11:50. He started to experience the first initial signs of panic. He couldn’t be late. He was never late. Late is what other people did, not him. He had a reputation to preserve, but also an intrinsic fear of lateness. More than a fear; it was like a phobia. He didn’t know what it was called. He’d tried to find a name for it but even Google couldn’t seem to help with that. Beads of sweat started to run down his back.
Was it the steep hill or the fear? He wasn’t entirely sure, but he didn’t like it one bit.
He knew he needed to act quickly now. A Ford Focus was parked just ahead of him. A welcoming light streamed from the front window of the house next to it. He walked up the steps and rang the doorbell. He had no idea what was about to happen, and he hated being unprepared, but he had no other choice.
14
‘Oh I’m very well, thanks… Yeah, he’s all right… He’s out at the moment… Down the Fox and Hound with his mates… I know it’s early… Well things have been a bit difficult lately… I don’t really want to talk about it… I know it would… I know you will… Well all right, as you know we’ve been arguing about money again lately… No, he still hasn’t found a job. He says there’s nothing out there… Well he says he is… No, he hasn’t, but he has bought a new car… Yes, it’s parked outside now... No, not brand new, but new to us… I’ve no idea why… A Ford Focus, about three thousand I think… I know… I had a real go at him for it and when I mentioned it again this morning he stormed out. Hang on Sue, there’s someone at the door… Oh hello, you must be the plumber, thank God you’re here. It’s in there, under the stairs. We just can’t get it to flush. Can you let me know how much it will be before you do any work? I’ll just be in the kitchen if you want anything… Sorry about that Sue, we’ve had trouble with the downstairs toilet. The plumber’s here now. I’ll have to go in a minute. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, so he’s gone off down the pub and no doubt he’ll be back later all apologetic. But he’ll be in there all day now, drinking away yet more of my hard-earned cash. Why the hell he thinks we need a new car when we are struggling to get the loo fixed is beyond me… Yeah I know, that’s what I said to him. Hang on Sue, I’ll just check on the plumber... Is everything all right in there? How much do you think it’ll cost… Hello? Hello? Where the hell…? Oh shit.’
For the Sake of the Children: The first Chloe Webster thriller (Chloe Webster Thrillers Book 1) Page 3
