The Conspiracy 1

by Jack Probyn

  Danny passed the letter to Candice, who inspected it for a beat. While she looked at the paper, Danny gave the signal to Luke, and at once his younger brother disappeared deeper into the mansion, climbing the steps behind Candice.

  ‘How long?’ Candice asked, raising her head.

  ‘Till the boys in blue arrive?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Until it detonates?’

  Candice’s expression remained impassive.

  ‘You’ll just have to wait and find out.’

  Out the corner of his eye, Luke returned to the conversation. At the sight of him, Danny rose to his feet, picked up the tarpaulin from the floor and ordered his brothers to leave the house. They had done it. Now all they needed to do was to get out of there without being seen or arrested, and then head south where, in a matter of hours, they’d be free.

  | EPISODE 1 |

  CHAPTER FIVE

  LIKE OLD FRIENDS

  As soon as the front door creaked shut, Candice dropped the paper to the floor and her body convulsed. Her breathing sped up, rapidly filling her brain with oxygen until the room began to spin, left and right, left and right, left and right, the sensation unrelenting.

  The collar bomb drowned her. With each passing second – and each exasperated breath – the metal collar containing the spikes attached to her neck tightened, asphyxiating the oxygen in her brain. The box attached to the collar crushed her chest, paralysing the rest of her body. Her fingers clawed at the collar in a weakened attempt to alleviate the pain and pressure of it wrapped around her throat, but it was no use.

  It was settled. She was going to die.

  Then she closed her eyes and tried to control her breathing, tried to calm her nerves and staunch the overflowing emotions and thoughts bursting from her brain. But they wouldn’t stop. And in no time at all the nausea returned with a vengeance. Her body reacted. Candice rotated to the side and projectile vomited on her mansion floor, the orange liquid spreading across the black-and-white stones. It dirtied the collar bomb and some of her clothes, though the latter was the least of her worries.

  For a moment, she toyed with the idea of fainting, of passing out, of allowing the veil of unconsciousness to descend over her and drag her down so she wouldn’t have to face her imminent death. But did she want that? No. Of course not. She had a family. She had a life. She had children. She didn’t want to imagine how they’d react if they heard their mother died after being impaled by six spikes. Worse, she didn’t want to imagine how they’d react after they found out that she’d done nothing about it; that she’d sat idle; that she’d died defenceless.

  No. She wasn’t going to let this thing defeat her.

  Candice rolled onto her shoulder and lifted herself to her feet. But the stranger inside her house beat her to it. The man was already standing, his arms flailing as he clawed at the ground, trying to find a grip on the surface. As their eyes locked on one another, he stood and charged towards the front door.

  ‘Hey!’ Candice screamed after him. ‘Where are you going? Help me!’

  The man fumbled for the handle, stopped, babbled incoherently and, within a few seconds, opened the door and sprinted out of the house. As the door swung closed, it left a large-enough gap for Candice to watch the man reach the end of the gravelled driveway and disappear up the road.

  Just like that, he was gone.

  Stunned that she’d been left in this situation alone, left to die, Candice searched the floor for the note. She grabbed it, and, using her arms to balance herself, struggled to her feet. The blood rushed to her head, and she swayed from side to side, teetering on the edge of collapse.

  A few seconds later, she regained steadiness and controlled her breathing once more. With the taste of acid burning her mouth and throat, she read the letter. It was folded in four, and had been handwritten, but the writing looked as though it had been stencilled over a printed version of the document. It was too neat and immaculate to be someone’s own handwriting.

  TIME TO PLAY A LITTLE GAME. YOU’VE BEEN CHOSEN AS THE STAR CONTESTANT. YOU HAVE NO OTHER CHOICE BUT TO COMPLY. FAILURE TO DO SO WILL RESULT IN DEATH. YOU HAVE A SPIKED COLLAR EXPLOSIVE STRAPPED AROUND YOUR NECK. INSIDE THE COLLAR IS SIX SPIKES THAT, WHEN DETONATED, WILL KILL YOU. TO UNLOCK THE DEVICE, YOU NEED TO FIND FOUR KEYS. YOU HAVE AN ALLOTTED TIME OF JUST OVER FOUR HOURS TO FIND THE KEYS AND SAVE WHAT’S LEFT OF YOUR LIFE. ONE HOUR FOR EACH KEY. IT SHOULD BE SIMPLE.

  HERE ARE THE RULES, BEFORE WE BEGIN.

  THE DEVICE IS BOOBY-TRAPPED. SO IF YOU TRY TO REMOVE IT BY ANY MEANS OF FORCE, IT WILL DETONATE AND KILL YOU INSTANTLY. OR IF YOU TRY TO CUT ONE OF THE WIRES INSIDE THE DEVICE, YOU WILL MEET A SIMILAR FATE. DO NOT TAMPER WITH THE DEVICE. TO DISARM THE DEVICE, YOU MUST FIND THE KEYS.

  THE KEYS MUST BE COLLECTED IN ORDER: 1, 2, 3, 4. THE FIRST KEY WILL LEAD YOU TO THE SECOND, THE SECOND WILL LEAD YOU TO THE THIRD, AND THE THIRD WILL LEAD YOU TO THE LAST ONE. YOU CANNOT SKIP ANY OF THE ABOVE STEPS. YOU MAY SEEK HELP, BUT WHOEVER AGREES TO HELP YOU IS ALSO BOUND BY THESE RULES. THERE IS NO NEED TO CALL THE POLICE, AS THEY WILL FIND YOU SOON ENOUGH. ALTHOUGH, IF YOU DECIDE TO GO ALONE, THEN THEY MAY NEVER FIND YOU. YOUR LIFE IS IN BOTH YOUR HANDS, AND THEIRS.

  AND, SURREY’S FINEST, IF YOU’RE READING THIS NOW, GOOD LUCK. SHE’S GOING TO NEED IT.

  I HOPE THESE INSTRUCTIONS HAVE BEEN CLEAR, AND I HOPE THAT YOU UNDERSTAND HOW SERIOUS WE ARE. IN LESS THAN FOUR HOURS’ TIME, SHE IS GOING TO DIE.

  THE GAME HAS BEGUN.

  HERE’S YOUR FIRST CLUE.

  THE FIRST KEY: WHERE CLOTHES ARE LEFT TO HANG AND DRY LIKE OLD FRIENDS.

  Candice stopped reading. She had just over four hours to save herself. And in her current mental and physical state, she would never make it.

  The thought made her nausea return. The world turned grey, and everything inside the house spun in a carousel of white and black. Her head felt light, and she vomited again, this time more violently, bringing up chunks of half-digested breakfast onto the floor.

  As she wiped her mouth clean of stomach lining, a duvet of darkness descended over her, wrapping her gently around the body and pulling her into a void of sleep.

  She was unconscious before her head hit the floor.

  | EPISODE 1 |

  CHAPTER SIX

  PROMISES

  ‘You’re wrong,’ Bridger said after a long pause. The atmosphere outside the jeweller’s had been still after Jake finished explaining his encounter with The Crimsons. ‘It can’t be,’ Bridger continued. ‘Nobody’s seen them for years.’

  ‘Until now,’ Jake replied. ‘Maybe they’ve been in hiding.’

  Pemberton cleared her throat. ‘If that’s the case, then what brings them back? Why have they chosen now – and here – to come back from whatever hole they climbed into?’

  Jake took a moment to consider the options. ‘Maybe they’ve run out of money,’ he began. ‘Or they’re bored. Or they’re using it as a distraction for something else – something bigger to come…’

  ‘Easy, DC Tanner,’ Pemberton said. ‘We can deal with that in a minute. Right now, we need to find Candice Strachan and we need to find the people who have got her. We can only imagine the amount of danger she’s in.’

  Pemberton turned to the female employee. Two black snakes ran down her cheeks and red rivers warmed her eyes. Her countenance was withdrawn, and she chewed viciously on her thumb. Pemberton lowered her voice as she spoke. ‘What else can you tell me about Candice? Anything you know about her. Any friends. Family. Someone who might know where they might have taken her.’

  The woman nodded. ‘We have employee files. She made us have one as part of our personal development. They’re inside the office.’

  At once, Pemberton called a SOCO over and instructed them to go inside the office and retrieve the folders. A few seconds later, the officer returned, lever-arch folder in hand.

  ‘There’s a lot of weird information in there. And a copy of her CV. She never really mentioned anything about
any friends to us.’

  ‘Family?’ Pemberton asked.

  ‘I think she had some. She didn’t talk about them that much. She spent most of the time telling stories about her past, business strategies and that sort of stuff. I think she said she was writing a book on it.’

  ‘Have you got an address?’ Pemberton asked.

  ‘Yes. Manor’s Keep, Horses Way, Farnham. I pick her up on my way to work every morning.’

  Jake pulled out his pocketbook and scribbled the address down. To his right, he sensed Bridger’s gaze boring into him, judging him. He ignored it.

  ‘Thanks,’ Pemberton replied to the employee, reaching into her pocket. ‘Listen,’ she began. She produced a contact card which had her mobile number and email address on it. ‘You’ve been incredibly helpful. Really, you have. These are my details. Please call me if you need anything. Or if you think of anything else. Soon I will be getting some members of my team to come and bring you into the station for a full witness statement. They’re going to make sure you’re well looked after. And you’ll have your parents or other family members notified about what’s happened. Does that sound OK?’

  The woman and man nodded.

  Pemberton smiled, ordered PS Byrd to send the evidence back to the station for evidence retrieval and then gestured for the three of them to head back towards the car. Jake hung back, waiting, trying not to step on Bridger’s, or Pemberton’s, toes. As he followed behind Bridger, the woman called after him.

  ‘Detective…’

  Jake stopped and spun on the spot.

  ‘You’ll find her, won’t you?’ Fresh tears filled her eyes, and another lump caught in her throat. The man beside her placed his arm round her shoulder, holding her, comforting her. Jake’s gaze danced between them and his colleagues in the middle of the street. He didn’t know what to say.

  ‘Will you?’ the woman repeated.

  Jake swallowed before responding. ‘Yes, we’ll find her. We’ll do everything we can.’

  | EPISODE 1 |

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  PRINCIPLES

  Jake hurried into the office behind Bridger and snuck away to his desk.

  ‘How was it?’ Danika asked, lifting her head from her screen as he arrived beside her. Jake perched himself on the corner of her desk.

  ‘Jewellery store torn to bits,’ Jake said, readjusting his tie clip, so it was perfectly horizontal. ‘One fatality – shot in the neck. Blood everywhere. Glass all over the floor. And… they’ve taken a hostage.’

  ‘Who’s they?’ Danika asked.

  As Jake opened his mouth to respond, an officer brushed past him, rushed down the corridor and made a right turn into the kitchen. Returning his attention to Danika, he kept his voice low, and said, ‘I think it might be The Crimsons. But—’

  ‘Convenient,’ Danika scoffed, rolling her eyes.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘It is your first day here and look who chooses to rob a jewellery store at the same time.’

  Jake stared at her in disbelief. He perched himself higher on her desk and leant closer, resting his left arm on top of her computer screen. As he neared her, he caught a vague whiff of her perfume. Jo Malone. It had been one of Elizabeth’s favourites and, back when they had been students relying on their only source of income – student loans – he had bought her a bottle for her birthday. Since then, the realities of adult life and their ever-struggling finances had prohibited them from treating themselves to expensive luxuries. It was something he hoped to change in the near future.

  ‘You think I don’t realise how strange it is myself? The Crimsons strike on the same day I start here. I caught them once. I’ll catch them again. But… if this is about being picked to go with DCS Pemberton and DS Bridger, then I’m sorry. I didn’t have much say in it. I wanted you to come, but you were in the toilet. I couldn’t have told them to wait for you, otherwise it would have looked weird.’

  ‘Mmhmm,’ Danika mumbled as she returned her attention to the computer screen.

  Jake hadn’t intended to upset her – and letting people down was one of the things he hated most. In fact, he’d wanted to give her as much opportunity as himself. They were both in the same situation, and they were both on the same career trajectory, so why did she think he would actively try and get ahead of her?

  Jake placed his hand across the monitor, impeding her view. ‘Some witnesses are being brought in soon to give a statement. They were inside the shop – they saw it all. Put yourself forward to sit in on the interview with them,’ he said, but there was no response. Danika continued to focus on her screen.

  Sighing, he lowered his hand and cast his gaze across the room. The entire department was standing in the Incident Room. Pemberton moved into the centre of the Horseshoe and whistled, commanding the attention of the entire room – including Danika.

  Jake and Danika slowly filtered in, standing in the doorway, out of the way and out of sight.

  ‘Right, team,’ she began, ‘I trust you all know your positions and what your roles are throughout this investigation by now. And if you don’t, then I want you to speak to DI Murphy – he’s in charge when I’m not. We’re now treating this as a Critical Incident and Category A+ murder investigation. Bridgewater Jewellers is the location of the incident. At 09:03 this morning it was raided by a group of armed robbers. They’ve shot and murdered a civilian, IC1, and have abducted another. Our second Nominal One, Candice Strachan.’

  ‘Make that two abductions, ma’am,’ someone from the other side of the Horseshoe called out, their hand raised. ‘More reports are coming in that a middle-aged man was thrown into the back of the van with Candice Strachan.’

  Pemberton nodded. ‘Do we have a name for our second hostage?’

  ‘Roger Heathcote.’

  ‘Right… one confirmed fatality, two abductions. We can’t let that number get any higher, guys. Whoever’s the researcher in the team, I want you to create a victimology report on Candice Strachan in as much detail as you can. Why have they abducted her? Find out who she is, where she lives, what her skills are, education, qualifications, marital status, any relationships she might have, kids she doesn’t know about, what she does for fun, whether she’s ever had an STI in her life – I want to know everything about her.’ Pemberton paused a beat to catch her breath. ‘Then we’re going to need ANPR on the registration for the vehicle they were abducted in, and any CCTV footage we can get our hands on. As soon as we get a hit, I’m coming with you all on the ground – I want to make sure Candice Strachan and Roger Heathcote are returned to their friends and families safely.’

  A unanimous cheer came from the rest of the office, followed by a brief round of applause.

  Before Pemberton continued, another officer raised her hand. She stood, juggling several documents. ‘Ma’am,’ she said, ‘preliminary reports are coming in on Candice Strachan. That file she created is a gold mine. It’s got her CV in it and everything.’

  ‘I’m aware. What does it say?’ Pemberton urged.

  The officer cleared her throat and then continued, ‘Years ago, she had a couple of stints as an actress. Performing in plays, and all that sort of stuff. Says here that her next of kin is her husband, an art dealer, but a quick check on his name shows that he died a couple of years ago from a heart attack and left everything to her in his will. He had some sort of investment in Bridgewater Jewellers, and eventually she bought the company out and now owns it.’

  ‘Bet that was a comfortable inheritance fund,’ someone near Jake jibed. The man stood with his arms folded, and as he said it, he swivelled on the spot and glanced at Jake, a smile on his face. Jake didn’t know why he’d looked over to him, but he didn’t reciprocate the sentiment.

  ‘All right, DI Murphy, that’s enough,’ Pemberton snapped, immediately stifling any disturbance that the comment was likely to provoke. She gazed around the Incident Room and waited until there was complete silence before continuing. ‘While you’re trying to find
her, I want a small unit dedicated to focusing on her husband, too. He might have pissed someone off in the past and they’re coming to collect an old debt. Also, it’s worth checking out Candice Strachan’s financial history. Whether she’s run out of money in the past. Whether she’s done anything corrupt or dodgy dealings.’

  ‘What are you insinuating, ma’am?’ DI Murphy asked. He was standing with his hands in his pockets.

  ‘ABC principle. Insurance fraud. She might be overdue on payments, and with an elaborate robbery like this, she’ll get an insurance payout that’s second to none. That’ll clear any debts she’s got outstanding, and then some.’

  Murphy shook his head. ‘It’s quite sophisticated—’

  ‘But then the ones that always slip through the net are,’ Pemberton interrupted.

  He shrugged. ‘I think it’s unlikely.’

  ‘But something we shouldn’t rule out. Tangential thinking will help us solve this case, guys. And if DC Tanner is right, and we really do have The Crimsons committing another robbery – on our turf and for the first time in years – then we can’t let them go. We must do everything in our power to capture them. I want another dedicated team to look into all of the previous Crimsons cases as a backup. Pull out eyewitness statements. Physical descriptions. Details. See if there are any links between this robbery and any of their previous ones. I want to be able to build a picture of these guys in my head so that, if I see them, we can bag ’em.’

  ‘Sorry, guv,’ Bridger said, his voice surprising other members of the team beside him. ‘Hate to play devil’s advocate and all that. But what if it’s a copycat? You know, ABC, like you said.’

  Pemberton stopped and cast her eye around the room. When her eyes fell on Jake, she called his name and waved for him to come over. Jake snapped his head left and right, making sure that she hadn’t spoken to him by mistake. There was no accident. She wanted him, and what was worse, she wanted him to speak in front of everyone else. He suddenly felt as if he were back in school, preparing himself to be chided by the teacher for doing something wrong, and reading out what he’d written in his notebook was his punishment. Tentatively, he snaked his way through the small crowd of officers, taking care not to barge into anyone or trip over any dangling legs and the feet of those sitting on chairs.