Shores of Death

by Peter Ritchie

  Handyside had told him the truth but had left out some of his own concerns. He had as many doubts as Turner, and when he’d reassured him about retirement he had trouble believing that it would come true for the man who’d been with him since the beginning – who’d gone into the filthy waters of the Tyne and rescued him after he’d seen the rats. There was no turning back, however, and if he just sat and waited then Macallan would come for him, he was certain. There was no alternative – they had to finish cleaning up any witnesses who might hurt them.

  They jumped into the car with one of the team in the back and drove twenty miles to a spot off the beaten track that was secluded but had a reasonable signal. Handyside rigged up the distortion kit with a clean phone and Turner and his man in the back seat got out of the car and changed into camouflage hunting gear. Both of them had rucksacks with all they needed for an overnighter and headed off into the woods to raised ground about a hundred yards from the car. They each prepared a hide that had an uninterrupted sight of the clearing from where Handyside would call Swan. Turner called him when they were settled in. It would have taken a trained dog to find them. Turner was used to this kind of work and had been a hunter all his life, and a few years in the army reserves had taught him a few more tricks of the trade.

  Handyside settled himself for a couple of minutes and ran the job through his mind, looking for any detail they might have missed. He couldn’t find one so picked up the phone and called Ricky Swan’s number, praying that he hadn’t changed it. He guessed it was unlikely – a man like Swan never had a backup for his numbers and would feel lost without access to his contacts. If the police weren’t involved, as Harrison had said, then they wouldn’t have given him any advice. That was the theory, but it could always go wrong.

  The phone rang for too long, and Handyside began to worry till it was picked up by a man who sounded half-pissed.

  ‘It’s Ricky. Who’s this?’

  It took Swan a moment to realise that the alien voice on the other end was no wind-up or bizarre cold call. It sobered him up in record time and he couldn’t believe that after all he’d just been through things were about to get worse. He reached his shaking free hand for the vodka bottle and emptied what was left into the glass sticking to the coffee table in front of him. Gnasher looked up at his master, understood there was no chance of ‘walkies’ and so padded through the open door and out into the garden to chase some dragonflies around the flower bed.

  ‘What the fuck is this?’ Swan tried to sound a bit like his hero Clint Eastwood, but he was a lightweight dealing with a heavy gun, and even with the gutful of vodka he’d consumed he couldn’t hide the quaver in his voice.

  ‘In a few seconds you’ll receive a text with an attachment. Obviously you’ll recognise your own daughter and I think there’s enough there to show you that we’re serious people. I’ll call you back in one and a half minutes.’ Handyside cut the call and stared at his watch. When he said a minute and a half that’s exactly what Swan would get.

  Swan stared at the phone, startled when the prompt came up that he had a message. He had the shakes and hesitated, knowing what he was going to see. He opened up the message and groaned at the little prompt telling him there was an attachment. The robot voice had said a minute and a half so he had no time to put it off.

  ‘Please no.’ The photograph of his daughter, terrified and confused, was bad enough, but the sight of the masked man behind her with a big fuck-off knife meant this was no wind-up. He was cynical about the whole world and to him women were no more than a commodity, but it was different with Christine, and there was no way she could be involved in staging the whole thing. It had happened to other men like him, but his daughter was the one and only person he trusted, even though he knew she would prefer that her life didn’t include him in it.

  The phone rang again. ‘Did you see it?’

  ‘Please don’t hurt her. If it’s money then I can sort that.’ Swan closed his eyes and prayed that it was money. He had it in his power to find that if they didn’t go over the score.

  ‘It’s not money. We only want to speak to you because you have information we’re interested in.’ Handyside was a highly intelligent man, but like all mortals he couldn’t control what he didn’t know, and he couldn’t know that Swan thought his sauna recordings were gold dust, and despite two attempts on his life the kidnapper had used the words ‘you have information’. Swan’s world was full of bad men, so why wouldn’t someone try to rip off his precious discs? Perhaps the police had tipped someone off. That was how his mind worked – and why he was completely out of his depth.

  Misunderstandings have started wars and the small matter of crossed wires between the men at each end of this call meant that events would turn in ways they could neither anticipate nor stop. In that brief moment Swan understandably thought this was another crisis he could work his way through, because if these were men who wanted to block something he had on his discs, or use it themselves for blackmail, then that was a price worth paying for his daughter.

  He calmed down but needed time to think it through as there was always the possibility that the bastards might shaft him.

  ‘Okay, maybe we can work this out. I want to speak to my daughter, though, before we do it.’

  The answer surprised Handyside because he’d thought that someone like Swan would work out the eventual cost then try to buy time – because the cost would be his neck. He guessed, wrongly, that the power of a father’s love had overcome the man’s fear for his own life, but he’d spoken long enough and needed to get off the line in case the law was earwigging Swan’s calls.

  ‘That’s it for now. I’ll call you in the morning with the arrangements. If you involve the law we’ll know about it and we’ll start cutting bits off Christine. Understand?’

  That image shook Swan up again and he started to panic.

  ‘Just don’t hurt her and you’ll get what you want.’

  The line died on him, and he stared at the window, wondering if he was ever going to get peace again. His options crashed about in his skull as he snorted a line of coke to try to clear his mind. What if it was a trap of some kind?

  He went through a whole list of what ifs, did another line of coke and opened up a fresh bottle of vodka. When Gnasher trotted back into the house an hour later his master was spreadeagled on the sofa, having forgotten all about his daughter for the time being. For the dog, the fact that the creature on the sofa was soaked in urine meant nothing more than an interesting smell.

  Handyside drove away slowly and left his team to see if the law came sniffing round; that would tell him whether there was a line on Swan’s phone. It was worth the effort, and he wanted to take as few chances as possible with this particular can of worms so on the road back he went through a range of counter-surveillance moves he’d been taught by the detectives he paid off. When he reached the lodge he checked on the girl, who seemed calm enough and had taken some food, then called Turner.

  ‘Everything’s okay, the girl’s in decent shape and there was definitely nothing behind me while I was driving. What about you?’

  ‘Well I’d say that what we’re watching at the moment is a man and a woman, who’re probably married to other people, really getting to know each other. Unless the pigs are using a new undercover technique, it’s so far so good.’

  ‘Good man. The phone call went okay with our boy. He sounded a bit pissed but that seems par for the course. If nothing happens I’ll pick you up around midnight.’

  Handyside wanted to call his wife, but if things went wrong the less she knew the better. He just hoped that she’d done what he’d asked and he could stop worrying about her and the kids. She would send a text when everything was in order.

  He watched the clock grind slowly towards midnight then called Turner, who told him it was still quiet and that, apart from the wildlife, nothing had moved. Handyside checked the girl again, got back in the car and spent another half hour on counter s
urveillance before heading off to pick up his team. They got back to the lodge about midnight and introduced a shift system to keep an eye on the girl during the night. Handyside spoke to her through the loudspeaker and told her that they’d made contact with her father and everything was going to plan. She would soon be home.

  She nodded towards the speaker; she’d worked out that there was a tiny camera lens attached to it. She stared into it and Handyside saw the glint of anger in her eyes. Her mood had changed from fearful subservience to disgust for these invisible men who stared at her night and day. He’d expected it, as that was the way of these things, but he also knew exactly how to handle it – kill the instinct to rebel.

  He pulled on the ski mask and walked into the room without breaking stride, watching the growing panic in her expression. He swung his hand though a wide arc and hit the side of her face with an open palm. The force of the blow knocked her off her seat and onto the floor, then Handyside pulled her up by the collar of her sweater and pushed his face two inches from hers. He wanted her to look deep into his eyes and know what he was capable of. She saw it burning like small points of light in the darkness and began to shake uncontrollably.

  Handyside didn’t say a word; Christine Swan had been taught the lesson she needed. The glimmer of confidence she’d found was gone.

  He dropped her onto the floor, turned and closed the door behind him. He pulled off the ski mask and made himself a cold drink. Half an hour later he was asleep and it was as if nothing had happened. He’d done what he needed to do.

  44

  Handyside was up again before six and wanted to get on with business. He checked on the girl and saw that the left side of her face was bruised from temple to jaw. It made no difference to him, and he would use it to motivate her old man. He would make the call from another remote area to ensure the police couldn’t locate him through his signals. It would be easier to take the straightforward option, but there was too much to lose if there was a problem. Although Handyside knew Swan wanted to speak to his daughter, there was no way he was going to move her from the lodge to make the call – the risk would be too great.

  He was sipping the remnants of his second black coffee when he picked up the text from his wife. Her job was done and he felt a dragging weight of concern drop from his shoulders. Good girl. He smiled to himself; he could concentrate on the game now.

  He sent one of his team on a twenty-mile drive to get a morning paper and then photograph the girl holding up the red-top headline in front of her. It would have to do for Swan – nothing else would be offered.

  When Christine held the paper in front of her she was shaking so much she could hardly hold it still. The bruising on her face showed up clearly on the photograph, exactly as Handyside had intended; he wanted to make sure Swan saw that they were prepared to hurt her.

  The location they picked for the second call was a long drive away in a beautiful spot next to a river. Handyside could see the surrounding countryside for miles so if anyone was approaching or following him he would spot them long before they could get close.

  He sent the picture then immediately made the call to Swan. It rang for too long and Handyside couldn’t believe that any man who loved his daughter wouldn’t have been sitting next to the phone all night. It had the smell of the law about it.

  In fact, another quirk of fate had come into play and by the time he made the call the intercept facility on Swan’s phone had gone live. It was quite by chance that this would end up saving his miserable life. Swan himself was still comatose after his night of abuse and was close to having overdosed on booze after his dessert of high-quality coke.

  Handyside was about to ring off when Swan finally managed to grope clumsily for his mobile and accept the call.

  ‘That’s too long to answer, Ricky. Do that again and I’ll send you her lips.’

  ‘Sorry, man, fuckin’ head’s mince.’ Reality started to trickle back into his inflamed brain and his mouth felt like his saliva glands had gone on strike.

  ‘Have you seen the picture we sent you?’

  ‘What picture? Just woke up.’

  Handyside was a supremely patient man, but Swan was pissing him off already. He told him to look at the text he’d sent and that he would call back in one and a half minutes.

  The policeman listening to the conversation perked up. Usually it took a while before you heard something interesting, but a distorted voice on one end of the call meant there was some serious business going on and he was all ears.

  Swan sat up and stretched his aching body. Gnasher, who was hoping breakfast might be coming his way soon, stared up at him but was ignored as usual. When Swan opened the attachment and saw the bruising on Christine’s face and the pleading fear in her eyes, he sobered up and felt the bile rise into his throat. He chewed his lip, impatient for the phone to ring again. Gnasher nuzzled his leg looking for attention, but the reward for the dog who’d saved his life was a kick in the gut.

  Swan answered the next call on the first ring. ‘Why the fuck was that necessary? Let me speak to her.’ Swan had done a rare thing and let his anger rise above his fear.

  ‘It was necessary, and we want to return her to you with no more damage than necessary.’ The even tone of the Darth Vader voice on the other end of the line had a dampening effect on Swan equivalent to the blow to his daughter’s face. ‘Think carefully now before you make any rash decisions. She won’t be harmed if you and your daughter behave and get this sorted.’

  The policeman listening in to the conversation forgot all about his hangover and was already running through the lists of what to do next. It was a kidnapping and that mattered. He signalled to someone else in the office to make the necessary calls.

  ‘We can’t let you speak to her because it would put us at risk. You can see from the paper that the photograph was taken earlier today and that should be enough. In one and a half hours from now I’ll call again and make an arrangement to meet you and hand over your daughter. Do you understand?’

  ‘Okay. I’ll give you all the information I have.’

  Handyside thought it was no more than a strange choice of words so he didn’t realise that Swan thought he was handing over enough dirt on discs to keep a blackmailer happy for the rest of his career.

  ‘We can do this today, get it over with and Christine can get back to her life,’ he replied then put the phone down before Swan had a chance to answer; it was part of keeping control.

  45

  Macallan got the call about the intercepted conversation only minutes after it had happened. She reached for the aspirin in her desk because she knew her head was going to hurt. At the same time, she was waving at Thompson to indicate that she should grab the seat opposite. Thompson could see the strain drawing the skin round Macallan’s eyes and knew something was up.

  ‘Please keep me posted on anything that comes in and we’ll get things moving this end.’

  When Macallan put the phone down she noticed she’d been biting the side of her forefinger again. She walked round the desk then closed the door, trying to think what they could do in the next hour and a half.

  She called O’Connor at Fettes and asked if he had a moment because there was a critical situation developing with no time to deal with it. She’d already sent Thompson to request the chopper as soon as they could get it to her, knowing O’Connor would authorise it.

  He agreed to that. ‘What else do you need?’ he asked, his face pale.

  She thought for a minute. ‘The problem is that we don’t have much time before the next call so I’m going to phone Ricky and try to buy us some. If that works I’m thinking we can maybe get Handyside and his team to come to us. We’ll use that bastard Harrison before we put him away.’ She outlined her plan and he realised it could work with a bit of luck. He could also see the more likely scenario that it all went to rat shit, but what choice did they have?

  ‘Get to it,’ he told her. ‘I’ll clear my desk and work besid
e you on this. You’ll need backing and it’s yours.’

  ‘Thanks, that means a lot to me. I’ll call Ricky as soon as you leave the office.’

  O’Connor walked over and pulled his door shut, realising that his career was about to end in either glory or flames.

  Macallan’s call was picked up right away. ‘Ricky?’

  ‘Who’s that?’ But he knew who it was. He was alert, his mind in near panic mode as the alcohol and dope flushed out of his system.

  ‘We need to talk.’ Macallan said it slowly and tried as far as possible to keep the emotion out of her voice. ‘I’d rather do this face to face, but there’s no time. Is there anything you need to tell us?’

  Macallan had asked Thompson earlier to get a hold of Young, brief her and get her to come to her office. The analyst was peering round the door now, and Macallan waved her inside. She sat down opposite Macallan, pulled out her notebook and started to take notes as the detective put the call on loudspeaker.

  Swan was a weak man, but he was no fool and he knew that her question meant they must have some knowledge of what was going on – but how?

  ‘What do you mean?’ he asked, stalling for time so he could decide what to say. They were sparring, but Swan guessed correctly that the woman on the other end of the phone knew how to play the game. He just needed to figure out how much she knew before he stuck his boot into the pile of dog shit that was his life now – and more importantly whether her involvement meant that Christine was safer or in more danger?

  ‘Listen carefully, Ricky. I don’t have time to fuck about, and you don’t either. We know you’re in trouble, but more importantly your daughter’s in trouble. That’s our business whether you like it or not. You can’t deal with these men. They’ll kill both of you, trust me on this.’