Bex Wynter Box Set 2

by Elleby Harper

  Bex twisted her head from side to side in long sweeping glances. From their ground floor position it was impossible to get the overview they needed.

  “Let’s stake out the check in counters and self-serve kiosks,” Cole said. “With three of us we might have a chance.”

  With a frown Bex checked her watch.

  “Ninety minutes before the flight takes off means it’s going to be bedlam at the Air Canada lines,” she said.

  She saw Remy’s eyes scanning, measuring, judging the area. Remy pointed behind them. They were on the landside of the terminal, before passport control. An escalator flowed upwards, taking a moving mass of people towards the mezzanine floor.

  “What about up there? I could go upstairs to get a bird’s eye view and if I spot him I can call you,” Remy said.

  “No, I’ll go upstairs,” Bex said. “You stick down here with DCI Mackinley and scope out the check in area.”

  That way Bex could keep an eye on Remy as well as be on the look out for Griffin.

  Cole shook his head.

  “I’m not sure it’s safe for us to split up,” he objected.

  “Don’t make me pull rank on you, Detective Chief Inspector.” She could almost feel him poker up beside her, so she added, “Besides, I’ll be safer upstairs than you two down here.”

  Landside of the mezzanine floor was less busy than the main concourse because most passengers headed straight through security so they could indulge in duty free shopping and upmarket beverages while they waited for flights. Along the perimeter nestled a number of airline service desks, a money exchange kiosk, toilets, payphones and cash machines.

  She noted a few coffee drinkers gathered at the café and a group of women huddled around a stand in the bookstore, but most travelers aimed themselves along the thoroughfare towards the security console. Bex took up a position giving her a good view of the crowds below and resigned herself to be patient.

  She contacted Quinn, but he reported he had no news that Trojan had picked up Griffin at Gatwick.

  “IT have confirmed that the two calls from each of Kaufman’s phones connected with Drake’s.” Quinn’s voice crackled over the line. “I’m bringing him in for questioning this afternoon. If I play up to his vanity I think the little shit might crack and admit his guilt just so he can brag about his nous in planning the hit on Griffin.”

  “I know the evidence points to Drake as being guilty, but the consensus seems to be that he doesn’t have the smarts to pull off a caper with this much planning,” Bex said. “What bothers me about the calls is that Kaufman phoned Drake first, not the other way around. If Drake planned to use Kaufman as the shooter, why didn’t he make the first call?”

  “Remember all those missed calls logged on Kaufman’s phone? He was probably just returning Drake’s call because he hadn’t been able to connect before. You’re just making things more complicated than they need to be,” Quinn argued. “If we follow the evidence trail it leads to Drake. Full stop.”

  Bex hung up, but her thoughts continued to sift through the evidence they had collected. Kaufman making the first call to Drake rather than vice versa bothered her. Was it possible Kaufman had made contact with Drake to offer his services? If Kaufman had discovered via the prison grapevine that Griffin was incarcerated in the same prison, he could have formed the plan to shoot Griffin. He had sufficient reasons, first as revenge if he blamed Griffin for the cause of his imprisonment or secondly to use the shooting as a bargaining chip to gain protection and support for his family while he was on the inside.

  But in either case, why hadn’t he contacted either Jack or Mortimer instead of Drake, because they were the ones with power in the family? Was he afraid the father and grandfather wouldn’t countenance shooting one of their own? The March 7 call had been answered while Mortimer and Drake were at the Old Canning Town Turkish Baths together, what if the call had been made to Drake’s phone but Mortimer had answered? Calling Drake’s phone instead of Mortimer’s number could simply be another ploy to confuse the issue.

  That made more sense than talking to Drake. While Drake might have relished getting rid of his brother as a rival, he didn’t seem to have either the brains to come up with an original plan or the personality to take orders from one of his father’s minions. Yet the circumstantial evidence against him was significant. Not only were there the phone calls, there was the drone remote control found in his room and the trashed blueprints for the 3D gun printing on his laptop.

  The conclusion she was left with was that Drake had arranged for the gun to be delivered to Kaufman, but she couldn’t convince herself that he had organized the details. That left the question, who was smart enough to have worked it out? Was Kaufman savvy enough? Throughout the investigation they had been searching for the mastermind behind the shooter, but perhaps it was as simple as Kaufman really being the guilty party?

  Yet when she had questioned Griffin, he had been convinced the shooting was Jack’s doing. Were his instincts correct? And more importantly, had hers been when evaluating his response? She searched her memory, but everything he had told her rang with genuine truth. She would swear on her life that Griffin was deathly afraid of his father.

  Shaking these riddles from her mind, Bex concentrated on the heaving mass of humanity surging through the concourse below. With less than thirty minutes until the plane boarded, her hopes of locating Griffin were fading. Perhaps he had outsmarted the police by sending them on a wild goose chase to the airports while he caught the Eurostar to Paris?

  Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

  “I think I see him.” Cole’s voice betrayed excitement. “I contacted Remy and we’re closing in on him. Can you see what’s happening from up there?”

  Bex checked the throngs of people, concentrating her efforts where she could see Cole. Her eyes snagged on a slight figure, head swinging to and fro as he scanned his environment. She caught a quick glance of profile, enough to identify him.

  “I see him. Take it easy, Cole. He looks on edge.”

  Even as she spoke she saw Remy force her way forward through the line, her warrant card held aloft in her hand. Her hasty headway created a disturbance. Bex could imagine the hubbub below. She might as well be waving a red flag over her head to alert Griffin! Bex’s jaw clenched in frustration.

  “Slow down, Remy,” she muttered under her breath.

  But Remy couldn’t hear her and it was too late. Griffin’s head twisted towards Remy, even as his body bolted the other way, tearing a path through the crowd like a bowling ball knocking over pins.

  “Quick, Cole, he’s making a break for it!” she shouted into the phone. All she heard in response was a lot of swearing.

  Griffin seemed agile as a hare, snaking his way through the mass of bodies. She saw Remy change tack, forging after Griffin, but Cole appeared wedged behind what looked like a tour group with several trolleys mountained with luggage.

  Griffin bounded onto the escalator, bumping people aside as he leapfrogged the moving stairs.

  Bex’s heart raced as she waited at the top of the escalators to tackle him. After two weeks being desk bound, taking action felt damn good. But she couldn’t deny she missed the weight of a Glock in her hand and the warrant card she wore around her neck felt flimsy compared to her old shield.

  Rising fast towards her, Griffin suddenly leapt on top of a piece of carry-on luggage, using it as a springboard to vault sideways, out of her path. She caught sight of him clambering over the stainless steel siding to land nimbly on the floor and dart away, leaving her scrabbling to chase after him.

  She saw Griffin sprint past the security console and the retail bookstore, but outside the café a group exodus surrounded her, momentarily obscuring him from her view. Guessing he was heading for the other set of escalators, she shoved her way through in time to see him dash to his right. In the distance she caught sight of Remy who had come up the other set of escalators before a crowd of passengers hid her from view. Rac
ing in from the opposite direction she had caused Griffin to veer off his path.

  Bex skidded around the corner, pursuing Griffin down a corridor that led past a number of sleeper cabins. In the sudden quiet their pounding footsteps thudded heavily. Griffin was brought up short so abruptly his rubber soles squealed. He had landed himself in a dead end. When he turned to face her he was crouched and panting, like a trapped animal.

  “Stop, Griffin! Don’t make things worse for yourself by continuing to run.” She slowed her steps to approach him calmly, holding her distance so he wouldn’t feel threatened.

  “I’m not going back! If I go back, they’ll kill me for sure!”

  Griffin’s head twisted from left to right. The walls on either side of their narrow confines were punctuated with doors, each door locked with a code, preventing Griffin from barricading himself inside one. There was nowhere to flee except by going past her back out into the mezzanine.

  “How long have you been planning this escape?”

  Griffin flattened himself against the wall behind him, his arms out flung and fingers spread as though he could sink into the metal plating.

  “Mum got away. I knew I could too one day. I was so close. And then Dad put me on that job and I got nabbed.”

  “So your plans had to change, didn’t they, Griffin?”

  Bex wanted to keep him talking. She hoped Remy had the sense to contact Cole and tell him what was happening so they could provide back up for her. She gave silent thanks that Griffin was unarmed.

  “The police were going to lock me away for taking part in a crime I didn’t even want to commit! It wasn’t fair!” His voice wavered several octaves higher. “I wasn’t going to jail to save my damn father’s life!”

  “That’s why you agreed to turn evidence against him. Give yourself up now, Griffin, and we’ll put you in witness protection after the trial and maybe even send you to Canada to look for your mother if that’s what you want.”

  He shook his head.

  “Dad was right, you bloody fuzz are useless. You couldn’t even keep me safe in witness protection for a week so how can I trust you with the rest of my life? If I could have only made Dad think I was already dead, I could’ve disappeared and he’d never come looking for me. You didn’t have to do anything except follow my plan! I spelled it out for you, but you couldn’t even handle that, letting some trash news story leak that I was still alive!”

  As Griffin’s voice cracked over the accusation, comprehension dawned on Bex. How could Griffin have made a plan to utilize Kaufman’s shooting unless he knew it was going to happen? The rivalry between Griffin and Drake went deep and it went both ways. But only Griffin was smart enough to have planned an attack on himself that would indict Drake for attempted murder. Kaufman had been telling the truth, the phone found in his cell the morning of the shooting wasn’t his. It must belong to Griffin. The reason Griffin had approached Kaufman’s cell straight after the shooting was to make sure that phone was found in Kaufman’s possession, so the information on it would implicate Drake but not Griffin.

  “You planned the shooting yourself, didn’t you, Griffin? How the hell did you get Drake to do your bidding?”

  Griffin bared his teeth in a rictus of displeasure, his stilled eyes focusing on her in obvious surprise that she had figured it out. A battle waged on his face as he decided whether to admit or deny the allegation. Vanity won out. It was one trait he did share with his brother.

  “Dad got the burner phone to me once I was transferred to Coldmarsh. He kept calling, but I wouldn’t answer. Then I remembered Kaufman was inside and it suddenly hit me that I could make use of him before Dad decided to. Who better to use on the outside to get Kaufman what he needed than Drake. Drake wouldn’t take orders from me, but it was easy enough to imitate Dad’s voice. I told Drake this was the ultimate test of his suitability to take over the role of heir and that part of the test was to keep it secret even when he was questioned about it. The tosser bought the story hook, line and sinker. I told him exactly what to do, right down to the last detail. And if I knew my idiot brother I knew he’d leave some clue to his guilt.”

  That explained the call from Drake’s phone to Kaufman two days later when Drake would have teed Kaufman up to attempt the shooting.

  Bex strained her ears and thought she heard approaching footsteps but she couldn’t risk taking her eyes off Griffin. She hoped it was Remy and Cole.

  “Getting yourself shot at was a pretty risky plan.”

  Griffin closed his eyes briefly.

  “Appearing in court was the risk. Dad would’ve found a way to get me before I testified. At least my way I had a chance of surviving. 3D guns are notoriously unreliable that’s why I specified to Drake that it had to be the plastic gun. I couldn’t risk Kaufman firing multiple times at me. If I could avoid one shot, I would live. The trickiest part was manipulating the guard to take the route through the general prison. It failed twice before, but with Thrussell I got lucky. I knew where Kaufman’s cell was and I kept my eyes peeled so I noticed the second he pointed the gun out the peephole.”

  “And then you had to convince me to put you into witness protection.”

  She heard definite footfalls behind her now. Griffin’s eyes skittered past her shoulder and she risked a brief look. She was disappointed to see Remy not Cole.

  Griffin gave her a pitying smile.

  “You were easy…”

  Bex sensed Remy rushing up behind her and flicked her attention away from Griffin. A sharp pain lanced through the back of her head. Blackness whirled before her eyes. Her arm flailed out as she tried to determine her assailant. Another blow to her temple dropped her like a stone.

  Chapter 37

  Heathrow Airport, Saturday, April 7

  Remy crashed to her knees beside Bex, afraid she had hit too hard. A thin trickle of blood smeared across Bex’s forehead, but she was still breathing. She looked across Bex’s inert body to Griffin, who had stiffened into an immovable lump.

  “Griffin, do you remember me?”

  “You’re a police officer,” he said.

  “Yes, I am now, but I used to be your baby sitter.”

  His eyes widened like saucers.

  “Remy?!”

  “Griffin, we don’t have much time. I heard some of what you said, and I know you’d rather risk your life than face Jack Loughborough again. But you’ll have to be quick because another officer is on his way.”

  “I don’t understand. Are you helping me escape?”

  “Listen, I know what it’s like to be trapped in a life you hate and how hard it can be to escape. I don’t know if it’s possible to outrun our blood, but I’m giving you the chance. Take it and go and live your dream!

  “Don’t get on that plane because the authorities will be waiting for you at the other end. Get out of London and head north for a while. If you can, change your alias, see if you can get another fake passport. Do not go to Calgary. If you leave the country, hole up in Europe or head for New Zealand or Bali or some place far enough away to leave the Loughboroughs behind.”

  “I can’t outrun Dad.”

  “Jack and Morty’s attention will be on their legal battles for awhile. This is your best chance to escape their clutches. Now go!”

  He responded to the urgency in her voice. Stepping over Bex, he hurtled back along the corridor. Remy waited until he disappeared around the corner before pulling out her phone to call Cole.

  * * *

  Bex’s blurred vision took in Remy and Cole bending over her. Her head pounded and a wave of dizziness swamped her when she sat up.

  “What happened? Where’s Griffin?” Her eyes searched the narrow space. “I had him cornered!”

  “Did he attack you?” Cole asked. “Remy said she found you on the ground and Griffin was gone. I alerted the airport security guards as soon as Remy contacted me, but I’m afraid he’s got away.”

  “Someone attacked me.” Bex struggled to reconstruct her
memory and make sense of what had happened. “I remember hearing footsteps behind me but I couldn’t take my eyes off Griffin.”

  “Do you think he had an accomplice?” Cole asked.

  “I, I—” Hadn’t she caught a glimpse of Remy just before everything went fuzzy? She shot Remy a suspicious glance as she regained her feet, waving away their assistance, but keeping one hand planted against the wall for support. Her head still spun.

  “Let’s spread out. We can still cover the airport,” Bex said, but her words lacked fire and conviction. Griffin had had help to slip through their fingers and she wasn’t confident they would catch him easily.

  “No, Bex, you need medical attention. You may be suffering from concussion,” Cole said.

  Gingerly she touched the dried blood on her forehead.

  “Cole, Griffin’s the one who planned the shooting! Drake and Kaufman were just the instruments he used, but he planned it. Because of him a man is dead. He’s guilty and he has to face justice.”

  “Sit still, Bex, an ambulance is on its way. I’ll go coordinate the security cordon and see if we can tighten it sufficiently to catch him.”

  Cole strode away. As Remy moved to follow him, Bex grabbed her arm and held her back. Her eyes pierced Remy’s.

  “It was you, wasn’t it, who attacked me in order to get to Griffin? Who are you really? Devyn Remy Hudson?”

  Remy’s eyes mirrored Bex’s intensity, but gave nothing away.

  “You haven’t been telling me the truth. What are you up to?” Bex demanded. “Answer me! Have you handed Griffin over to Jack Loughborough?”

  A look of disgust crossed Remy’s features.

  “Never! Griffin’s not a bad kid. He’s simply desperate. I’m sorry about the guard and his family, but Griffin didn’t shoot anyone.”

  “He didn’t pull the trigger, but he must have known there was a chance someone else would be hurt when he masterminded this plan. You had no right to let him go!”

  Bex saw Remy’s body brace, squaring her shoulders.