by Conrad Jones
“Bastard,” Smithy said between his teeth, and the officers around him murmured agreement. “I hope I find him first.”
“Let’s just concentrate on finding Kisha first, Smithy.” Alec splayed his hands in a calming motion as he spoke. “If Howarth has rigged traps around the house, then that is because he wanted to slow pursuers down. I think he planned an exit strategy using the empty houses next to his.”
“You think he’s still in the vicinity, Guv?” Smithy asked.
“Maybe,” Alec nodded. “We know there’s a campervan parked in the back alleyway. It isn’t registered to him, but no one else lives here, right? If he realised Kisha was a police officer investigating the murder of Louise Parker, then he must have worked out that we wouldn’t be far behind her. She had her radio on her, so he could have heard our communications. If he did, then he knew we were on the way with armed backup. He needs somewhere to lay low, and a way of getting past the cordons at the end of the street once the initial incursion is completed. If he is here, find him, but be careful.”
“Guv,” they replied to the order as a unit.
“Smithy,” Alec called to the big ginger detective. “I want you and four of your team to follow the armed units into the neighbouring houses. The rest of you rip this place to pieces and find me the way he took Kisha out of here. If we find that, we find Kisha and the boy.”
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Will
The information that John Tankersley had brought to light astounded Will. He wanted to investigate it thoroughly before informing the superintendent. Alec had his hands full with developments at Shankly Way. Will contacted the detective in charge of investigating the death of Nate Bradley’s son. She was a detective sergeant with the drug squad.
“Chloe, it’s Will Naylor at MIT,” he said when she answered her direct line.
“Hi, Will, I got your message, and I’m curious why you’re interested in the Bradley case.” She sounded a little frosty. A senior officer from a different department picking through the details of your investigation was never welcomed. “How can I help?”
Will leaned back in his chair and loosened his tie. “I need you to confirm some details for me,” he began. “What can you tell me about Nate Bradley senior?”
“Why?” She asked. “What has he done?”
“We don’t know yet,” Will laughed. “I just need to see if he’s linked to one of our cases.”
“Care to expand?” She toyed with him. They had met at a charity ball once and she recalled that he was a good-looking detective with a reputation for liking the ladies.
“Not at the moment, Chloe,” Will kept the conversation formal despite her flirtations. “I need as much information as you can give me, and I need it yesterday.”
“Okay, where can I start?” She could sense the urgency in his voice. He wasn’t fishing. This was a serious enquiry. “You know that his wife died shortly before his son Nate?”
“Yes,” Will replied. “Were there any recriminations from him when his wife overdosed?”
“Plenty,” Chloe scoffed. “He called me every day, twice a day sometimes, asking if we had found the dealer who supplied her.”
“Did you find the dealer?”
“Are you having a laugh, Will?” It was Chloe’s turn to be serious. “She was a grown woman with a serious drug problem. The autopsy showed evidence of drug abuse going back years and she was using a cocktail of drugs. It was heroin that killed her eventually, but it would be quicker to tell you the drugs she didn’t use than the ones she did.”
“I get that, but did you investigate the dealer?”
“Where would you start, Will?” She laughed. “If we started at Lime Street station at nine o’clock in the morning, I could show you thirty dealers within five hundred yards of the place by half past nine. We couldn’t identify the dealer who supplied her if we tried, and if we did, do you think they would cough?”
“Did Nate Bradley think you were investigating the supplier?” Will could see her point, but he didn’t think she had considered it from Nate Bradley’s side.
“I told him I was making enquiries into her supplier.”
“So you fobbed him off,” Will said sarcastically.
“I guess so, it was to placate him, that’s all,” she replied morosely.
“What was his mental state?”
“What is this about, Will?”
“I need to establish how Nate Bradley reacted. Were the dealers involved his main focus?” Will tried another tack.
“Without a doubt,” she responded affirmatively, “Especially when his son died.”
“Did he make any threats?”
“No, not exactly,” she said slowly. “He made a lot of noise and we know that he spoke to some of his son’s friends about it. He intimidated them with his questions and the way he asked them. They were genuinely scared and their parents made complaints, but under the circumstances, we didn’t pursue it. We spoke to him several times about it.”
“Then what?” Will took his tie off. It seemed that John Tankersley was right in his assumptions.
“He came to me with the name of the boy who had allegedly given his son the ecstasy. Carl Lewis was in the same year at college,” she answered irritably. “Look, Inspector, there wasn’t a shred of evidence that the boy had supplied the drugs, and when we interviewed him about it he denied all knowledge of the tablets. What am I supposed to do?”
“I’m not criticising your investigation, Chloe,” Will tried to calm her angst. “I need to know the facts.”
“Sorry,” Chloe sighed. “Am I being sensitive?”
“A little. The boy he thought had supplied the drugs, Carl Lewis, is he still missing?”
“I wondered where this was going,” she snapped. “We spoke to Bradley about the boy and he had an alibi. Then Carl made contact made with one of his college friends.”
“What type of contact?”
“The kid is on Facebook every few days. He has run away, but from what we can see, he is alive and well. He has a junior savings account which is keeping him going.”
“What about the older lad?” Will carried on.
“Same, we think they’re together. They posted pictures from a beach in Cornwall a week ago. The local uniform boys are looking for them, but they keep on moving from place to place.”
Will was beginning to get a picture of what may have happened. It would not be difficult to make it look as if someone was still alive using the internet, especially if you had extracted their passwords before they died. An interrogator would have no problems finding out that information from teenage boys. “Do you know Nate Bradley’s history?” Will asked. He wondered what the military had put on his files.
“Some kind of records clerk in the army,” Chloe replied. “Why?”
“He was an intelligence officer and worked in Special Operations,” Will dropped the bomb.
“What?” She sounded incredulous. “Bollocks, we checked that ourselves.”
“I believe you, but the military are hardly likely to let anyone know that he was a spook, are they?” Will replied calmly. “Trust me, I have it on good authority that Bradley was a spook, and I believe the source. I don’t believe those two lads are alive, Chloe.”
“Fucking hell, but what about the bank account and the Facebook stuff?” She inhaled air as she spoke.
“Come on, Chloe, how hard would it be to blag that if you had their information?”
“Where are you coming from, Will? What the hell are you looking for?”
Will stood up from the desk and looked out of the window. He could see the big wheel, a new edition at the Albert Docks. It seemed like every city in the UK needed a wheel since the success of the London eye. “I want a reason why Nate Bradley would turn vigilante and set out to take out drug dealers. I think he has a good one, don’t you?”
“Oh my god,” Chloe moaned. “I’ll open the search for the missing boys immediately. I’ll have to sp
eak to my governor about making it a homicide investigation.”
“Look, Chloe.” Will didn’t need self-flagellation right now. “The older lad, Paul Grebe, was it?”
“Yes, that’s his name, or should I say was his name? Fucking hell, I don’t believe this.”
“Did you look at him?”
“Of course we did, but there was nothing to charge him with. He had a caution for possession, but that is hardly proof, is it? We had his mother on our watch list and her boyfriend was a real scumbag, but we couldn’t find any evidence that he even knew Nate Bradley.”
“Who was the boyfriend?” Will asked.
“What?”
“You said the mother had a scumbag boyfriend?”
“Yes, Jackie Benjamin,” Chloe said. “You may remember him. He was topped on the Bluebell Estate a while back.”
“Thank you, Chloe.” Will sounded excited. “You’ve just given me my link. That is the connection between Nate Bradley and our case.”
“You think Bradley topped Benjamin?”
“Yes, I do,” Will smiled. “Chloe, can I give you some advice?”
“Yes, please.” She was baffled and shocked by the entire conversation.
“Get the technical guys onto your case. Find out where your Facebook posts are coming from and where that savings account is being used, because I don’t believe those boys are alive, and thanks again for your help.” He hung up before she could respond. He was about to call Alec when the telephone rang as soon as he had put it down.
“DI Naylor,” he answered the call irritably. He needed to speak to the superintendent.
“Morning, Will,” Chief Carlton said. “I have some news which might impact your case.”
“Well, this case is just getting better and better, Chief,” Will laughed. “There has been some significant information come to light this morning already.”
“Really, what’s happened?” The chief sounded surprised. “Have you found Howarth?”
“No, Sir, but we think we have the name of his accomplice.”
“Superb, well done, there,” the chief chirped. “What have you got?”
“It’s early days, Chief, and I’m still checking it out. So if you don’t mind, I’ll check out my facts and then make a full report to the Super, but we need to talk to a man named Nate Bradley.”
“Do you need our help?”
“Yes, Sir,” Will made the call to bring him in. “I think we need an APB on Bradley, and we need to call him armed and dangerous, Sir.”
“Get his details to me immediately, Will. I’ll have the alert and his description distributed this morning at shift changeover. Where has this information come from?”
Will didn’t want to end up with egg on his face, so he chose to keep it in the department for now. “Do you mind if I make a few more enquiries before I start speculating, Sir?”
“No problem, I’ll wait until you have briefed Alec.”
“Thanks, Sir. What have you got for me?”
“Oh, yes, the reason for the call,” the chief stuttered. “Two things of interest. Early this morning, we were called to a vehicle fire-up near the Royal. Once the fire boys had extinguished it, witnesses reported hearing a gunshot before the fire started. We recovered the body of a male. He was wearing military dog tags which identify him as David Lorimar.”
“He was one of the men at the poker game?” Will wrote the name on his list of things to relay to Alec.
“Correct,” the chief confirmed. Dr Libby says that the skull was severely damaged before the fire started, probably a shotgun. There are pellets in the doorframe.”
“That’s one less to interview, I suppose,” Will mumbled. “Any idea what happened?”
“It’s all a bit cloudy at the minute. One witness reported seeing a man leaving the scene on the back of a motorbike and others are telling us that a tall black male ran away from the vehicle in the direction of the hospital car park. We’re still taking statements now, and we have the CCTV discs from the hospital security room. They should have a decent view of the car park. Once I know anything, I’ll let you know.”
“Sounds to me like the mobs are kicking off again,” Will scribbled on his pad. It hadn’t been long ago that they had been killing each other for fun, until the assassination of the Neil brothers had brought things to an uneasy ceasefire. “Do you think it’s related to the robbery at Connections?”
“God only knows, Will,” the chief sighed. “There is another incident. It won’t throw any light onto this at all, however I think it is connected.”
“I need another pen,” Will joked.
“You and me both,” the chief made light of it.
“I feel like Stevie Wonder trying to complete a Rubik’s Cube.” Will took his jacket off and placed it over his chair as he spoke. Sharon Gould tiptoed up to the desk and placed a note in front of him. She smiled and walked away without speaking, aware that he was talking to the chief constable. Will picked it up and tutted loudly. “Fucking hell, it never rains, it pisses down.”
“What?”
“Sorry, Sir, another challenge has just dropped into my lap.”
“Don’t let the bastards grind you down, Inspector,” the chief chuckled. “Listen, I know you have a lot on your plate, but we had a call yesterday to a flat in Toxteth. One of the residents reported that his neighbour’s door looked damaged and there was a cleaning company warning sign outside the flat. He thought it looked dodgy. When my officers arrived the flat was empty, but there were signs of a struggle and they found a handgun. Turns out the flat belongs to a chap called Jackson Walker. Do you know him?”
“Yes, we’ve crossed paths a few times.” Will read the note again. Zamir Oguzhan was waiting in the reception area downstairs. “He’s one of Leon Tanner’s crew.”
“That’s what I’m being told, although I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting him.”
“I think there was more to the robbery at Connections than we first thought,” Will forgot who he was talking to.
“We thoroughly investigated it, Inspector,” the Chief’s tone changed. “At the time, there was nothing more to do. There was no crime committed.”
“I wasn’t having a go, Chief.” Will stuck two fingers up to the phone. “I meant there is more coming out every day, that’s all.”
“Yes, quite. Well, keep me posted, Inspector.”
Will didn’t think the apology had been accepted, but he had more important things to worry about. He decided not to drag the call on any longer and hung up.
Will needed to speak to Alec to see if he wanted him to interview Zamir Oguzhan whilst he dealt with the search at Shankly Way. The third time Alec’s phone clicked to voice mail, Will grabbed his jacket and his tie and headed for the lifts. He would tackle the mobster himself.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
The Child Taker
Jack Howarth knelt down between the policewoman and the boy. He smiled in the darkness. As much as he would love to play with the black woman, the boy would fetch a pretty penny on the internet market. Once he was safely away from the police, he would set up business again. It was time to go back to his roots. It was time to become the Child Taker again. The police were scratching about inside number 44, and a muffled scream told him that they were beginning to move things away from the walls. It wouldn’t take them long to find his bolt holes, and then the fun would really begin. They would be busy for hours. The time to move was here.
The woman was comatose and the boy was well away, too. He shined his torch into the boy’s face. There were dark circles beneath his eyes and his cheeks looked sunken. He was dehydrated. “Poor boy needs a drink,” Jack smiled. He reached for a bottle of water and twisted off the top before taking a long swig of the cooling liquid himself. The woman twitched and Jack stopped smiling. He slapped her face with the back of his hand, but she didn’t respond. He had bound her hands behind her, and the restraints pushed her breasts outward. He felt her right breast with his
hand and squeezed it hard. There was no reaction on her face. The nipple pressed at the material of her wool jumper, and he pinched it between his finger and thumb, turning it forty-five degrees. He leaned over and licked her face, running his tongue across her cheek and her lips. She smelled of designer perfume, but he couldn’t tell which one. The woman didn’t budge. Jack lost interest and reached for the boy. He pulled his legs toward him and felt for the gag fastened at the back of his skull. Jack pulled the gag down from his face and let it fall loosely around the boy’s neck. He lifted the bottle to his lips and allowed the water to dribble into his mouth. It ran down his cheeks onto the floor. The boy moved and coughed as the liquid reached the back of his throat. His eyes flickered and opened.
“Drink this,” Jack said. His voice was soft and comforting, as if a father was talking to his thirsty son. “Drink it slowly, because your throat will be dry.”
The boy gulped at the liquid and swallowed half the bottle too quickly. He gagged, and the water hurtled back up from his gullet along with thick yellow bile. Jack jumped upwards and backwards at the same time to avoid the stinking vomit. He dropped the torch and scrambled about trying to reclaim it quickly.
“Dirty boy!” He hissed. The boy retched again and began to cry hysterically. He was drugged, frightened and choking. His sobs echoed around the cellar and the retching noise sounded loud in the darkness. “Shut up, you little bastard!” Jack reached for the gag, but warm sticky vomit covered it and he recoiled at the touch. “Dirty boy,” Jack hissed again. “Shut the fuck up or I’ll choke you myself.”
The boy was coming round and his sobs had been getting louder until Jack shouted at him. When he heard the nasty man threatening him, he tried desperately to stop sobbing, but the retching was involuntary, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. The memories of what the man had done to his father and the woman were fresh in his mind. So was the smell of their blood. There had been so much blood, and the sound of their screams replayed in his head. He was terrified, and if the nasty man said shut up, then he had to shut up. Another mouthful of puke gushed from his stomach, and the acid was burning the tender tissue at the back of his nose. His eyes streamed with stinging tears. Mucus dribbled from both nostrils and vomit hung from his chin like a string of melted cheese.
