by Karen Botha
Pain sears the back of my skull and I stumble. My foot catches on a hard nodule of cement and my ankle gives way. I tumble to the stripped floor, bitter pain searing up my leg. A nauseating thumping travels from my head down my neck.
My vision swims, and my grasp on reality is only a blurred version of the truth. I'm aware of my limp body rising as I’m lifted by two arms way stronger than my will. Why did I do this. The police trained me never to go in on my own and now…
‘Stand up!’ I’m ordered. A generous, bald-headed chap is grabbing at me. His white vest is covered in dull grey stains, longstanding. His lips fascinate me; as he shouts at me, his goatee beard splits creating patterns under his mouth.
I stand on my ankle, the increased pressure shoots internal lacerations through my leg. I hobble up.
‘What is going on? I only came to read the meter.’ I touch my hand to the back of my skull. A lump is already forming. It’s wet, my hair is matted around it.
My question ignored, I’m shoved again. I start shouting. About what, I have no idea, but Lucy, my only back up, needs to know all is not well.
I’m thrust into the bald-headed brute on my right. Thug number two, also sports a goatee, but his is ginger. He is afflicted with the transparent skin to match. The blue welts under his eyes make his eye sockets appear hollow.
I continue my full volume tirade, ten decibels above my previous maximum intensity. Please, Lucy, pick this up! Call Mo!
The two animals grab my arms and transport me outside into what could have been a lovely garden. What must people think of themselves to live like this? It’s like one of the old fly tipping sites. I’d have prosecuted for less.
I continue to shout. I don’t recognise my voice. It’s high pitched with an animal edge, wild, terror stricken.
Then we hit the garage.
It’s long and thin with tools strapped to both concrete walls - a mismatch of demolition equipment and electric power saws. A car like Adam’s is parked up along with a van and an old Ford Escort. One of the thugs opens the back of the Mercedes. It’s been adapted. It has a metal box sunk into the rear. There’s a brief silence whilst the one on the left opens it. Even I am quiet, is this how it will end? In a steel box in some godforsaken garage in the arse end of nowhere? Not if I have anything to do with it. I let out one final, piercing scream before my head ricochets with such force my brain bounces off my skull.
And I’m quiet.
Adam
I thought Lucy would have been the first person Paula told about my brush with the law. I assumed she’d want to warn her friend; after all, I’m not exactly looking like prime boyfriend material at the moment. It would appear not though, as Lucy is finally calling me. Relief courses to every fibre of my being, and I relax. At least something is going right.
‘Hi Lucy.’ My tone is soft, ‘How are you?’ I walk towards my full length windows.
‘I’m not brilliant right now Adam. Paula has gone missing doing that bloody job for you!’
‘Shit! What happened?’ My voice cracks and instinctively I turn back to face the interior of my living room. My head swims and I’m struggling to focus as Lucy explains the ordeal. She has to keep stopping during the telling of her account and my heart fractures into tiny pieces with each of her sobs.
She finishes with, ‘Why did you ask her to do this Adam? You must have suspected it would be dangerous.’
‘No, I didn’t! I didn’t know she’d go off like a bull in a china shop did I?’
Fearing the imminence of our first argument before we’re even in a relationship, I change the topic. ‘Anyway, we can have this conversation later. We need to find her.’
‘Hang on, Mo is calling.’ And with that, her line goes dead. I dither, looking at my blank screen before replacing it into my pocket. Then I remove it again. I take a step forward, cleaning the screen. I’m unsure of what to do next.
I was in the middle of a meeting. Judith was introducing me to Clifford, her grey-haired colleague who deals in criminal matters. He is peering over his half-moon glasses balanced on the end of his nose. His tie is way too bright for his pin striped double breasted suit, but I’ve forgiven him his fashion faux-pas as, apparently, he's the best specialist Judith knows. I’m therefore willing to overlook his boarding school style.
I shake my head hoping it’ll clear before Lucy calls back. Whoever it is that’s setting me up wouldn’t take Paula unless they thought she was a threat. So, what is it that she’s threatening? Is it because she found their house, that she saw something she shouldn’t inside? Or that they've learnt who she is and want to eliminate me tracking down what’s going on?
‘What is it?’ Judith asks, furrowing her brow.
I cough and then explain whilst Clifford scribbles notes. I cross my legs, but can’t get comfortable, and fidget, uncrossing them again, then stand, walking to the window, and peer out. Someone knows way more about me, than I do about them, and that’s not good. I fiddle with my phone some more. Lucy still hasn’t called back.
‘I'm familiar with the Steve who runs the murder squad,’ Clifford is already scrolling through his contacts. The tension keeping my body rigid dissipates, I lose about three inches off my height as I release the breath caged in my chest.
‘Steve, it’s Clifford. I have a problem. Long story, but one of my clients is in a bit of bother with one of your departments. The upshot of it is that he’s employed a P.I. You know her…’ He pauses, cut off mid flow. He nods, ‘Yes, that’s her. You do know her then. Good, good. We’d very much like to find this girl. We understand it’s not your department, but she left specific instructions to call you should the worst happen.’ He pauses again, listening to a voice raised but not sufficiently for us to hear. ‘Absolutely, old boy. I’ll send everything over now.’
Off the phone, Clifford informs us that Steve is going to make this his priority. ‘The girl used to work for him.’
‘Good, what’s he going to do?’
‘I’ll send him over the details of where she was abducted, and they’ll send someone over there right away. I suspect the house will be cleared out by now. That's the joy of CCTV. The police should be able to backtrack and discover which vehicles left. Assuming we can pull off a clear image of their number plates, they’ll combine that with ANPR and pick the culprits up. Shouldn’t be a major problem in this day and age, dear chap. Please don’t let this blip bother you. I’m sure she’ll be fine. The criminals wouldn’t bank on her having such a quick response.’
I raise my eyes upwards, thanking the heavens for small mercies. Clifford continues our meeting as if nothing has happened, but Judith knows me well.
‘Would you like to leave this to another day, Adam? Clifford, do you have the information you need to work on this in the short term? If so, you and Adam can catch up later, perhaps tomorrow?’
‘Well, I do require a little more material, Judith.’ Clifford looks affronted, as if she’s preventing him from delivering his best. I’m pleased that she’s made such a strong choice in my attorney, but this is not a good time for me. I need to be with Lucy.
‘Dear chap,’ Clifford continues, ‘you’ll be no use to Lucy nor Paula as you are. I appreciate your instinct is to rush to Lucy. But remain here for an extra half hour. Then, I’ll gather the facts to help us stand a chance of catching these noxious imposters. You’ll be doing Paula the world of good.’
I can see his point. And so I stay, texting Lucy that we’ve managed to get in touch with Steve and that I'll meet her at the police station.
‘So, what do you need from me?’ I ask before taking a sip of sparkling water.
‘I need you to confirm you’re in possession of your original drivers licence, passport, and birth certificate. It’s highly unlikely that they would be missing. The culprits went to the bother of stealing your number plates, which suggests they don't possess proof of ID to get copies of your plates made up. But, please check to be certain.’
I head off to
the safe and report back. ‘Here is everything,’ handing Clifford my papers.
‘Fabulous. Now, have you been subject to any suspicious emails of late, anything that in hindsight would appear to be a phishing scam?’
I mentally flick through the messages I can remember receiving over the last few months, but it’s a waste of time. ‘Honestly, I get so many emails I have no idea. You’d be better to speak to my PA, Nuala Barryman, about that. She will be able to tell you.’ Clifford’s fountain pen scribbles on the yellow legal pad. ‘Now, your keycards for your office. I need your codes.’
I drop Jason, my head of IT, a note to tell him he should be open with Clifford.
‘Thank you, Adam.’
‘I’m also going to be looking at your social media. I’m assuming you’ve noticed nothing suspicious?’
‘Not a thing, but I’m not on it that much. Nuala posts as me a lot of the time. I rarely post anything myself.’
Again, more scratching on his pad.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t see the significance of this.’ Judith bites her lip at my unusual outburst.
‘I understand this is a stressful time and these details may appear trivial. But, these are the parts of the puzzle we need to start piecing together. Without clarifying this information now, any further cases of your identity being stolen will not show up. We along with everyone else, including the police who are trying to put you behind bars, will assume legitimacy to everything that is out there. This cannot be the case. One would not go to the trouble of risking being caught removing your plates, purchasing an identical car, at significant cost, if this was a simple case of opportunism. Now, this leads me onto my next question. Who would comprehend how your CCTV works?’
‘Well… other than me, my ex-girlfriend, Hana, who is also the business partner on the list I passed you at the beginning of this meeting. And the installation team of course. I can provide you the number of the company. It isn’t a new system though, surely if this were linked to the security company, they’d have acted before now. Plus, like you say, having the cash to splash out on a car like mine, they must be doing well.’
‘Indeed.’ Clifford agrees. ‘However, this Hana. She would be able to afford a car, wouldn’t she?’
‘Yes, I suppose so. But, it’s all good between us. We split up about two years ago now, and it was all amicable. We should never have become an item in the first place. It was more a case of us both spending so much time together and having limited access to alternative options. We only lasted a year, and there was no bitterness when it ended.’
‘You mentioned to Judith before this that you were thinking of selling your share of the business. Was Hana aware?’
It’s like a thump in my chest. I hadn’t even thought to connect the two. ‘No, she didn’t know. I was only at the stage of working out my options.’ Judith looks stern. ‘But, how would it benefit her to ruin a going concern that she was part owner of? It doesn’t add up. Say she heard I was planning to sell, and wanted me out of the way so she could have the business for herself, how would ruining it help her? She’d be left with a company with a reputation in tatters. It doesn’t make sense, she makes no financial gain.’
Clifford and Judith both nod.
‘Well, I think that is it for now, Adam. It’s been a pleasure meeting with you, although I wish the circumstances were happier. I’ll be in touch as I’m sure we’ll need further clarification on matters that arise. Until then, enjoy the rest of your evening.’
I’m not holding out much hope, but I smile instead, and shake their hands as they leave. Then, I jump in my car to meet Lucy at the station.
Lucy
Mo weaves through the crowds of low-lives hanging around in the police station lobby, then drapes his arm over my shoulders.
‘You OK, lovely?’ he asks.
‘Not really.’ My voice quivers. I try not to inhale the acrid combined smell of pee and poo.
He guides me towards the mirrored door and punches the access code with his free hand, blocking the other visitors’ view with his torso. I don’t know Mo well, but well enough that there’s never a lack of chatter between us. Today we’re both silent, pulling our heavy bodies up one tiresome linoleum stair to the next, until we finally reach the stark interview room.
Steve’s already seated. He stands as I enter. His face is pale, with bags under his eyes. His lips are pressed into a thin line.
‘Hi Lucy.’ He steps towards me and then thinks better of it, gesturing to a chair for me to take.
‘Hi.’ I sit as instructed. He’s my lifeline, or Paula’s, right now, but a lot of water has passed under our mutual bridge, and I’m not sure how I feel about him.
‘I’m sorry to be seeing you again under such circumstances,’ Steve says.
I nod. ‘Me too.’ Grief, or perhaps guilt, wells under my eyelids. I swallow a large lump.
He switches on the recording. ‘So we don’t miss anything, it's quicker than notes. Time is of the essence.’ He curls the corners of his mouth upwards, but it’s not a smile.
‘I understand.’ Part of me blames him; she wouldn’t have been out there playing P.I. if he hadn’t strung her and his wife along. If he hadn’t made promises he couldn’t keep to Paula when it came down to delivering. If he wasn’t so shallow.
I wipe my mental white board; that kind of thought process won’t help Paula now.
And so, we go through it. Right from Adam getting arrested, him giving her this case and finally her crazy stint as a meter reader. I tell the whole tale with my gaze downcast. To raise my eyes would pave a path to my soul, to display my pain at losing my best friend, my fear that something appalling may be happening to her. And my anger at Paula for being so irresponsible and putting herself in harm’s way for no good reason.
As we get to the last part where I film Paula being taken, my cheeks glow red with shame at not having run to help her. I press my cool hands against them to calm their heat, maintain focus on the metal desk. I plough on.
‘But that’s fabulous, Lucy, you’ve not only captured a real-time account of what happened, but more than likely caught the perps on camera.’ Mo says.
Steve nods, ‘Where’s the video now?’
I fiddle with the zip on my bag. It’s jammed where I forced the drone and screen in to my too-small bag. ‘I wasn’t sure what I’d need, so I brought the lot.’
‘Here, hand me it.’ Mo holds out his hand as my fingers shake. With minimal effort, he retrieves the pad.
I retch as the episode plays out. Paula, springs to life, red faced and screaming; screaming so loud. She tugs and drops her weight in a bid to escape, no match for two burly criminals. Blood pours down the back of her neck, an angry stream of thwarted defiance howling from her gut.
A gurgle escapes my lips. I don’t even realise it’s me. I’m swallowed by fear, my chest is tight and my eyes are streaming tears.
‘I let her go in there. I knew it was a mistake and yet, I let her go.’
‘It’s OK, she shouldn’t have gone, she knows better,’ says Mo.
‘I should have jumped out of the car. I should have stopped her. I could have.’
Steve speaks, but all I can hear is ‘coward,’ echoing through my mind.
‘What’s this?’ Steve asks.
A momentary flash passes between the two coppers. The screen has flipped over to our covert Graham mission; it's frozen on a still of the shocked woman as we inadvertently flew past.
‘Oh, that’s a fraud case with one of Adam’s employees. Actually he’s also his foster brother so I don’t think it’s connected. His brother is his CFO, Paula and Adam, are trying to establish whether he was skimming money. They were looking for the proof. Jerome should have it by now. He was going through Graham’s accounts.’
Again, they both write with intensity. When they look up, Steve nods in the direction of the pad, indicating I should press play.
Paula
I have cramp in my left hip. I try t
o move, but my legs are stiff. My knees hurt, and my ankle is throbbing. It’s tied up behind my buttocks somewhere. It’s dark, I can’t see where I am. I wiggle my hand to feel around, but it’s also bound behind my back. My tongue is sticky, swollen, and dry, touching cloth.
I begin screaming again. Terror flashes a white-hot poker through my heart. Where am I? What happened? My voice cracks as I land on my tender pelvis. I can’t catch my breath; it's like there’s a sack of rubble from the garden constricting my life. I’ve been trained to deal with this. I calm my brain. It’s OK, it’s only fear.
I suck as much air into my lungs as I can get for six breaths and then let it out. Repeat. My pulse starts to ease. One, two, three. The drumming in my ears quiets. Four, five, six. I repeat the cycle, enjoying controlling my breath. I can do this. Now think, Paula!
The rattle of the road beneath us slows. I scream. Big mistake. There’s a clanking and the vehicle shakes, my metal coffin opens. I dip my head, trying to shade my eyes as I squint into the sun. The fresh air washes a chill across my groin. Shit, I must have peed myself.
We’re on a country lane, flanked by a forest.
‘Get her out,’ sadist number one says. My eyes are wide, wary, watching for anything that could be helpful. It’s not a good sign that I’m unblindfolded. I push this out of my mind, unwilling to let the consequences of me seeing their faces resonate with me.
A white van pulls up, bigger than the one that was in the garage earlier. That was a Combi or something, but this is more like a long wheel base type thing that we did stakeouts in. The bald-headed chap heaves me out of the box. My shoulders scream until he levels me out and carries me hog-tied like a deer over to the back of the van. The floor is up and beneath it are a series of containers exactly like those I've just been tugged from. They dump me like discarded rubbish in an open one.
