by David Barry
‘Which is what got him and his family murdered.’
‘It looks like that, although we only have Dabrowksi’s word for it.’
I sighed. ‘Well, at least Alice Bayne will know her father was trying to do the right thing, even if he was a crook. But now we’re no nearer to finding out who this monster is and I’m worried about my daughter’s safety.’
‘How old is your daughter?’
‘Fourteen. Why?’
The FBI man frowned deeply. ‘More difficult to keep an eye on them at that age. They need their independence.’
‘Thanks,’ I snapped, ‘for you words of comfort.’
‘I’m sorry, Freddie. I truly am, but it looks like it’s a case of back to the drawing board in trying to find this other Eclipse. I wish I could help. But my remit is to stop cyber thieves from stealing millions of dollars, not catch internet trolls who may or may not carry out their threats.’ He saw I was about to object and continued hurriedly. ‘You want my advice for what it’s worth? Go back to England and talk to the police?’
‘The fucking police,’ I spluttered indignantly. ‘Didn’t you read about my interview with the manager of Tim Bayne’s software business, when the firm was visited by who he thought was a high-ranking police officer both before and after Bayne’s murder?’
‘Sure I did. And there may be one or two rotten apples in the barrel, but they can’t all be corrupt, Freddie.’
‘But how do I recognise the corrupt or honest cop? How am I supposed to know who is honest and who’s not?’
‘You have to start by trusting someone, Freddie. Believe me, it’s the best way, and I’m sure your wife would agree with me. Involve as many police officers as possible.’ He picked up the flash drive and waved it in front of me. ‘Add the rest of the story to this and go armed with what you’ve got to the police, telling as many people as possible. I’m sorry, it’s the best advice I can give you.’
I thought over what he said for a moment.
‘Well?’ he said. ‘You know I’m right, don’t you, Freddie?’
With some reluctance I had to admit what he said made sense. There was nothing to be gained by attempting to sort out the investigation privately. It might even be time to go public and involve the press.
‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘I’ll get to the airport, see how soon I can get back, and Nicky our secretary can help me to compile the rest of the story. Then it’s down to the cop shop to shake a few skeletons.’
He glanced at his watch and stood up. ‘I wish you the best of luck, Freddie.’
I rose and we shook hands. ‘Shame we hadn’t met under better circumstances,’ he said. ‘We might have enjoyed a few drinks and reminiscences together. But that’s life.’ He smiled before turning away, then walked across the dining room without looking back.
In less than half an hour, I was in a taxi heading for John Paul II International airport.
Chapter 33
I managed to get a mid morning flight with a window seat, fell into a deep sleep for a good hour, and arrived at Gatwick just after one o’clock. As I sat on the train heading for Victoria, I sent Michelle a text telling her I was on my way home just as soon as I picked up the hired car from where I’d parked it next to the office.
I got back to Chalk Farm just after two-thirty, dashed into the office and was greeted by Nicky, who got up and gave me a hug, an expression of concern on her face.
‘What’s wrong?’ I asked.
‘Michelle has rung several times because she was worried. She knew you were on your way back and your phone would be turned off. Apparently Olivia’s been getting more and more threatening emails, even though you told her this Eclipse is in jail. She thought I might be able to offer an explanation and set her mind at rest. But apart from telling her that maybe the servers were slow in delivering the messages, I didn’t know what else to tell her.’
‘Which is exactly what I told her, Nicky. Talk about clutching at straws. Shit! It looks like there’s still someone out there masquerading as Eclipse.’
I gave Nicky a garbled version of what happened in Poland. When I finished I felt exhausted and frustrated by the complexity of this horrendous assignment and a spasm of fear coupled with fatigue ran through my body. I knew I had to pull myself together, so I went into our inner office, slumped into the chair behind the desk and put my head in my hands.
‘You OK, Freddie?’ Nicky asked as she followed me into the office.
‘It’s a fucking nightmare,’ I mumbled helplessly. ‘I don’t know where we go from here.’
She put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. ‘I don’t want to make you feel worse, Freddie, but you look like shit. Why don’t you go into the loo and freshen up while I brew fresh coffee? Just take a minute to calm down.’
My shoulders ached from stress. I rolled them, raised my head and sat back. ‘I don’t know what to do next, Nicky. I really don’t. And do you have any idea what’s been happening with Alice?’
‘Her solicitor contacted me. She’s in court today for the preliminary hearing and charge. She’s got a top lawyer representing her, and she’s not short of bail money. So any time now we might be hearing from her. Of course, she hasn’t a clue about what’s been happening with you in Krakow, and the way you hit a dead end as far as Eclipse was concerned.’
‘At least I found out a few things about her father which might make her feel differently about him, seeing as he was on a mission to expose child abusers.’ I stood up and felt a twinge of pain in my shoulders as I removed my coat and slung it over the back of my chair. ‘That coffee sounds like a great idea, Nicky. I’ll just freshen up.’
I went into the bathroom to see if I could improve my appearance, though I doubted it was possible when I stared into the mirror above the washbasin. I looked like an extra in a zombie movie. I washed my face, wet my hair, and brushed it into a presentable likeness of my former self, although the improvement was marginal. When I stepped out of the bathroom, a steaming mug of fresh coffee awaited me. I blew on it and had just taken a sip when my mobile rang. I saw it was Michelle and answered right away.
She screamed in my ear. ‘Freddie! She’s gone. Olivia’s been taken. They’ve taken our daughter.’ Even through her frantic sobs I could hear a babble of voices in the background. ‘I’m at the police station,’ she gabbled. ‘I went in early to school, wanting to have a word about what’s been happening with her computer, and they told me she never came to school today.’
I was numb with a feeling of dread, the sort of feeling no parent should ever experience. Eventually I found my voice. ‘Didn’t you drop her off this morning?’
‘Yes,’ Michelle sobbed. ‘And we’d run out of juice at home for her lunch box, so she asked me to drop her by the corner shop. Oh God! Why did I do that? I should have dropped her right outside school.’
‘Don’t blame yourself, Michelle. That’s not going to help.’
‘But she’s gone. She never arrived at school. What are we to going to do?’
‘What are the police doing about it?’
‘They’re going through all the internet stuff at the moment. They said they normally wouldn’t consider her missing until...’ I heard Michelle crying, then someone in the background asking if she was all right. ‘Yes, I’ll be fine. I’m talking to my husband.’
‘Michelle, listen to me,’ I urged. Can you hear me?’
‘Yes, yes. What?’
‘Give me Olivia’s internet password.’
‘Freddie! The police are on to it. They’re doing everything they can.’
‘Michelle!’ I pleaded. ‘Just do it, will you? Give me her password. I want to check the last message she got.’
Nicky stood over me, her eyes brimming with concern, a pen and notebook in her hand, ready to offer practical help.
‘Her password is “pirhouette6”.’
‘Thanks, Michelle. “Pirhouette6”.’ Nicky wrote it down as soon as she heard me say it. ‘As soon as I check her email, Michelle, I’ll call you back, then I’ll come over to the police station.’
I hung up and reached for the computer keyboard.
‘Don’t waste time booting it up,’ Nicky urged. ‘Use mine.’
I dashed into the outer office and sat at her desk, typed in BT Yahoo mail, followed by Olivia’s email address and her password. The latest Eclipse email had no attachments or graphics. But the message was chillingly understated.
‘Time has run out and I promised you to some men. We have a cozy little dungeon waiting for you. See you later today. Eclipse.’
After reading the disturbing message, I looked up at Nicky. ‘How do you spell cosy?’
‘C-O-S-Y.’
‘This one is spelt with a Z.’
‘Which is an American spelling.’
Our eyes met, and we both realised instantly who was behind it all.
‘Jesus!’ I said as I stood up hurriedly. ‘Of course he could stop the emails being sent, because he was the one sending them.’ I tapped my trouser pocket. ‘I’ve got my car keys. I’m going to Sheppey right now.’ I walked quickly to the entrance door. ‘I’ll kill the bastard when I get to him. I will fucking slaughter him.’
‘Wait, Freddie!’ Nicky shouted as she dashed into my office, returning with my leather coat a moment later.
‘I don’t need it, Nicky. I’m already boiling hot as it is.’
She grabbed my arm and started to slide it into a sleeve. ‘Don’t be stupid. It’ll help protect you, Freddie. Please! Wear it for my sake.’
I hadn’t a clue what she meant but I was too overwrought to argue. I slipped into the coat and stepped into the street. As I dashed towards the car, I yelled back to Nicky, who stood in the doorway, ‘Call Michelle, tell her what’s happened, and to get the police on to it.’
‘Right away, Freddie!’ Nicky shouted as I climbed into the car.
I tried not to drive like a maniac and risk being pulled over, but as far as flashing speed cameras were concerned, I was about to find out how many speeding convictions I could chalk up in the next ninety minutes.
***
Shapiro’s brightly-painted house looked much the same as it had the first time I visited, forbidding and lacking in humanity. In spite of the sunshine yellow of the paintwork, it had the cold aura of a twilight dwelling, an empty shell of a computerised mausoleum. As I screeched to a halt by the kerb outside his driveway, then leapt out of the car and ran up the path toward the front door, I realised his Volvo estate was gone. Where the hell was he? And where had he taken Olivia?
I banged the door over and over, kicking it frantically, shouting and swearing uselessly. Some passers-by in the street stopped to watch my futile display of frustrated anger as I ranted and kicked the door hard. Eventually I calmed down, staring at the passers-by, who moved quickly on in case I might attack them.
I knew because his car was gone, the house must be empty. I tried to think what I could do to get inside, thinking I might find a clue to his whereabouts. But the only way inside this impregnable fortress was by police SWAT battering rams, and I hadn’t a clue how long the police would take to make a decision for unwarranted intrusion, in spite of the urgency of Olivia’s abduction.
As I’d neared the Isle of Sheppey, I’d taken a call on my mobile. It was from Michelle. Nicky had rung her about Shapiro being the abductor, but it took her some time to convince the police. And when they did eventually accept the gravity of the situation, knowing they had to move fast to avoid a tragedy, the Met still had to work in conjunction with the Kent police. However urgent the situation was, a strict protocol still had to be met.
Feeling more and more helpless as the minutes ticked by, I cursed the police, even though I was aware of how much I needed them at this moment. I felt tears spring into my eyes as I thought about Olivia, how she must be feeling, imagining how terrified she must be as her nightmare became a reality. Nightmare! The word clicked in my head as I made some sort of association. It was the word “night” that did it. I remembered poking around in Shapiro’s kitchen and finding details of the derelict nightclub he’d bought. At the time I’d put it down to an innocent expansion of his computer business. Panic swept through my brain as I guessed what the nightclub was used for.
I got in the car and drove like the clappers, and it took me less than ten minutes to get to the road leading to the nightclub. As I got nearer, I could see there was a middle-aged man in a three-piece suit, standing outside the entrance to the nightclub. He looked as if he had just arrived and took a mobile phone out of his pocket, about to key in a number. But he stopped as I drove at speed into the weed-sprouting car park, and screeched to a halt next to a silver BMW parked near Shapiro’s Volvo. I noticed the rusting Mondeo had been removed.
I got out of the car hurriedly and marched towards the man. He seemed nervous, said something short and hasty into the phone, cut the call and put it back in his pocket. He walked towards me, intending to walk by me to get in his car, but I stopped him with hand on his chest.
‘Hey!’ he exclaimed. ‘What the hell d’you think you’re doing?’
His face seemed familiar, and he spoke in the haughty tone of an aristocrat talking to a peasant.
‘Where is Brad Shapiro?’ I demanded. A glance at the lock on the entrance told me it might be tricky to get inside without permission. ‘And how do I get inside the nightclub?’
He shuffled around me, taking car keys out of his pocket. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about. I got lost, pulled over, and have been trying to phone for directions. So if you don’t mind - ’
Before I could stop him, he’d run to the car, got in and locked the door. I ran after him and banged on the window. ‘Stop, you bastard! I want to know...’
I saw extreme fear in his expression. He panicked as he revved the engine, accelerating without bothering to see if a car might be coming along the road. His BMW shot forward at speed, almost colliding with another car. An angry blast from a car horn as he ignored the near collision and sped off down the road.
I went back to the club’s entrance. The lock was strong and unassailable as were the tightly-fitting doors. I knew there must be some sort of delivery entrance, so I ran around the back, looking to see if Shapiro had installed any CCTV cameras. Either he hadn’t got around to it yet or he didn’t want to give the impression the nightclub was anything other than derelict.
There were two doors at the back of the building, with no locks on the outside, and I guessed these could be opened only from the inside by metal bars, the sort you have on cinema exits. There was only one way to get inside this building and I knew what I had to do.
I climbed back inside the Renault, and drove towards the rear of the club. Behind the delivery doors at the back was a run in of about twenty yards. I straightened the Renault up so it faced the doors head on, fastened my seat belt, put it into first gear, and pressed the accelerator to the floor as I let out the clutch. The car shot forward and hit the double doors with a mighty bang. The seat belt jarred against my chest as I was propelled forward and the vehicle shuddered with a metallic grinding noise. The bonnet buckled and concertinaed with a sandpaper sound of grating steel as the car cannoned through the doors with a loud splintering of wood as the doors caved in, dust and debris flying like splintered glass.
I unclipped my seatbelt and threw open the car door. The dust from the impact swirled around, and steam rose with an oily smell from the shattered radiator. Inside the club it was dark, like the entrance to a cave. But I had no fear now I knew Olivia was being held somewhere in this hideous nightclub. I stepped over the rubble and entered. I was in what had once been a large kitchen, with old rusting cooking ranges a
nd work surfaces, old pots and pans, burnt and caked with grease. At the far end of the kitchen there was a swing door with a porthole at head height, the glass in it cracked across the centre. I dashed forward, pushing my weight against the door, thinking the hinges might be rusty, but it swung open easily and I found myself in a long corridor. At the start of the corridor, to the right of the door leading to the kitchen, there was a staircase, partly blocked with rubble and litter. Two rooms branched off along the corridor, and I guessed they might once have been the club offices. I hurried to the end of the corridor, to another door which looked as if it might lead into the main body of the club. As I pushed it open, I called my daughter’s name, desperately hoping I hadn’t been mistaken in assuming Shapiro had brought her here.
‘Olivia! Olivia!’
‘Dad!’
My stomach lurched. I’ve never felt so relieved in all my life. Olivia was still alive. As I stepped inside the club, I turned to where I heard her voice and saw her sitting upright in a chair beside a double bed, her hands tied in front of her. She leapt up and ran into my arms, sobbing and moaning. I was relieved to see she was still dressed in her school uniform, but then it flashed through my mind that that was how they wanted her.
‘Olivia sweetheart, it’s OK. I’m here,’ I said as I felt her distressed body trembling against mine. ‘It’s going to be all right, I promise. Everything’s going to be fine.’
I heard someone coughing lightly from a little distance away. It was Shapiro. He stood in the shadows beneath an old mirror ball in the ceiling, wearing an expensively-tailored suit, as if he was an executive chairing a board meeting. Behind him stood a table laden with bottles of spirits, wine, champagne in a bucket and glasses. This main area of the club had clearly been made habitable, and was a mixture of dungeon and Parisian bordello, lit mainly by dim red lights.
