by James Raven
‘Did Mayo make and receive any other calls last night?’ Temple asked.
‘There was one from Jennifer Priest at eleven thirty. She also called his mobile. And there was another one earlier at about seven. We checked the number and it turns out it was a pub in Lordshill.’
‘Dessler told me he called Mayo to tell him he wouldn’t be dropping by,’ Temple said. ‘So that could have been him. Except he claims he was in the Grand Casino. That was his alibi. I think we need to check the pub. Find out what’s going on there.’
The log of calls to Cain’s landline threw up another mystery. Someone phoned the house at 9.50 p.m. It had been answered but the call lasted only a couple of seconds.
‘So who made that call?’ Temple asked.
‘We don’t know, sir,’ Angel said. ‘But here’s the odd thing. The call came from a public phone box in the same street as the Cain house.’
Temple arched his brow. ‘So who the hell would phone the house from down the street? And why?’
A sudden spate of phone calls around the time Mayo was murdered. That had to be significant. But how?
Temple moved on to give a brief rundown of his conversation with Dessler.
After a short Q&A he asked Brayshaw to check Dessler’s alibi with the casino. He then briefed them all on the situation with Jennifer Priest, but they already knew who her father was.
‘It doesn’t stop us treating her like everyone else,’ he said. ‘Just be sensitive. The super’s very upset about this. That means it’s personal. He wants a quick result and is prepared to throw resources at it. So expect some overtime.’
He chose this point to raise the issue of Cain and Mayo’s relationship with the police.
‘I know how most of you feel about those two guys,’ he said. ‘But that must not intrude on this case.’
‘That’ll be easier said than done, guv,’ Brayshaw said with a sour grin. ‘We can’t help thinking that the bastard at last got what was coming to him for what he did to Banksy.’
Temple gave him a withering look.
‘I don’t want to hear that kind of talk. It’s unprofessional and downright fucking dangerous. Let’s be clear: Vince Mayo deserves as much respect as any other murder victim. And Danny Cain deserves to be treated fairly regardless of what happened in the past. Is that understood?’
‘If you say so,’ Brayshaw said grudgingly.
‘I do,’ Temple said. ‘And if any of you have a problem with that, tell me now and I’ll reassign you. This case is going to attract a lot of attention. And remember that as far as the media are concerned Cain is one of their own. If they sense that we’re not a hundred per cent committed to finding out the truth they’ll crucify us.’
Temple paused to let his words sink in. He noted the shared looks and the rustle of bodies. George Banks had been highly respected and liked by all of them, with the exception of Angel who hadn’t been around then. They understood and sympathized with George’s reasons for crossing the line. After all, he had only been trying to keep his desperately ill son alive. They’d therefore condemned Cain and Mayo for exposing the wrongdoing. And Temple didn’t doubt that right now they were thinking that it would be poetic justice if Mayo had indeed been murdered by his own partner.
But Temple knew he had to do his best to steer them away from such thoughts. They could only lead to complacency and mistakes.
So he moved on with alacrity to the mystery man mentioned by Jennifer Priest.
‘We need to find out who this bloke is,’ he said. ‘If he’s a thief it could be he was casing the cottage. So let’s check up on all the local tea leaves. I also want someone to arrange for an artist to go over to Jennifer’s flat and get a photofit done, then get it into circulation.’
‘Leave that to me,’ Brayshaw said. ‘I’ll get it sorted.’
Temple went on to talk about the article that Mayo was writing on Dessler’s activities.
‘We’ve taken computers from both houses,’ he said. ‘So hopefully we’ll soon know exactly what they came up with and whether or not it’s useful to us. Do we know if this agency has an office?’
‘We’re on it, guv,’ Angel said. ‘We got the address from Mayo’s contacts book. It’s in Portswood.’
‘Well, see what you can come up with there and find out if they have any staff.’
Temple asked if any cash had been found at the cottage. He explained that Mayo had left it out to pay Dessler. But no money was found, according to Officer Patel, who had been in overall charge of the search.
‘What about jewellery?’ Temple said. ‘According to Miss Priest he kept his mother’s jewellery in a leather box inside his bedside drawer. It’s quite valuable, apparently.’
Patel confirmed that he himself searched both bedrooms in the cottage and had not come across any women’s jewellery. Or any jewellery for that matter, save for a watch and some cufflinks.
‘So carry out another thorough search of the cottage,’ Temple said. ‘If the cash and jewellery aren’t found then we have to consider robbery as a motive.’
The door to the briefing room was suddenly flung open and the duty sergeant came rushing in. Her name was Ruth Logan. She was as thin as a fishing rod and wore thick-rimmed glasses that magnified her large, soulful face. She was clearly excited about something, and as she addressed herself to Temple she spoke loud enough for all to hear.
‘There’s been a development, sir. According to Cain’s mobile phone service provider he’s been receiving calls from a mobile that belongs to his wife.’
‘Then ask the provider to put a trace on both phones,’ Temple said. ‘If they’re switched on they can get the latest triangulated locations.’
Logan’s smile had the slightest trace of smugness. ‘I already did that, sir.’
‘And?’
‘We’ve just got their positions. Apparently both phones are close together and they’re right in the city centre.’
‘Are you kidding?’
‘Definitely not, sir. The phones are both located at this precise time in Palmerston Park. It’s just off the High Street.’
‘I know where it is,’ Temple said, grabbing his coat off the back of a chair. ‘Put an alert out and get me a car.’
As he headed for the door he gestured for Angel to follow.
17
The risk he was taking was huge, the implications profound. But there was no going back now. He was committed to a course of action that would change his life for ever.
But before he could start making plans he had to decide what to do with the Cains. If he allowed them to live they would talk and he’d be exposed. It would mean prison or a life on the run in some foreign country where £18 million would buy anonymity. Maybe.
But if he killed them he’d secure a comfortable future as a multi-millionaire, safe in the knowledge that no one would ever know the truth.
The downside would be living with what he had done. A family of innocents slaughtered. An act of gross wickedness that right now he was not convinced he could go through with.
He held up the pink lottery slip and examined it in the red glow from the dashboard gauges. £18 million. A massive fortune. But was it enough to temper the pain of a ravaged conscience?
He read the numbers out loud to himself for perhaps the twentieth time. 5,31,22,19,43,7. He still couldn’t believe that this was the winning combination. It brought a smile to his face. Caused his hands to tremble slightly.
So much money and so much he could do with it. The possibilities were endless. It would buy security, peace of mind, a life of sheer luxury. He’d now get to see all the places he had dreamed of seeing. Do all the things he never thought he’d get around to doing. And the irony was not lost on him. Since the National Lottery had first been introduced in the UK he had never once purchased a ticket. For him the odds were always so great that he considered it a complete waste of time and money.
But now he had the winning ticket. And as soon as it was safe to
do so he would submit it and claim the money. But there was still a way to go yet. Danny Cain continued to be a liability. He had to be neutralized and fast, before he told someone what was happening.
The kidnapper glanced through the side window of the Mercedes. He could see Cain on the other side of the small city centre park. A desolate figure who was a little too conspicuous.
But he was alone. The kidnapper was sure of that, having watched him and the surrounding area for the past half an hour.
It was therefore time to make his move.
The call from the kidnapper had been short and sweet.
‘Where are you?’ he said.
‘The old city walls,’ I told him. ‘I’m hiding up on the ramparts. The police – they came to the house.’
‘I knew they would.’
‘So what now?’ I asked.
‘Do you know Palmerston Park?’
‘In the city centre?’
‘That’s the one. There’s a small car park between the park and the high street. It’s behind a public toilet.’
‘I know it.’
‘Then be there in half an hour.’
‘What about my wife and daughter? Are they all right?’
‘So far they are. But be warned. If you try to be clever they won’t live to see the sunrise.’
The line went dead.
That had been an hour ago and I was still in the car park freezing my nuts off. I could feel the anger twisting my stomach. The rest of me still ached from my ordeal with the two youths.
Why was he late? Was it a test? Was he watching me? Or had something gone wrong?
There were four cars in the car park and no sign of life in any of them. I stood with my spine against the brick wall of the public toilet. From here I had a view of the park, which even at this hour was not entirely deserted. I could see a few shadowy figures moving along the pathways and huddled beneath the occasional halogen lamp.
This whole thing was completely surreal. Like it was happening to someone else and I was watching the action from above.
My thoughts turned to the identity of the man I was about to meet, the creature who had turned my life into a nightmare.
Who was he? Had Vince known him? Had he been at the cottage when Vince discovered he had won the lottery? Did they open a bottle of champagne with the intention of sharing it? Or did he suddenly appear on the scene after Vince called me? And what was with the pile of cash on the worktop?
I recalled the conversation on the phone. Vince was naturally excited. But he said nothing to suggest that there was someone in the house with him.
Vince did not have many friends and certainly the ones he did have could not be described as killers or kidnappers. But he had some enemies. No doubt about that. Among them most of Southampton CID. But Vince’s addiction to gambling had also introduced him to a world that was full of shady and desperate people.
I knew of at least one who had threatened Vince.
Joe Dessler.
Vince owed him a large sum of money and because he couldn’t pay it back he had started snooping on Dessler in the hope of digging up enough dirt for a story. It was an area of journalism that Vince excelled at. He was a tenacious operator with good contacts and a ferret-like mentality for finding out the facts. So it was no surprise to me that he managed to find the evidence to prove that Dessler was involved in at least two illegal brothels.
But Vince had also stumbled on something else by chance. Something explosive. It was a relationship that Dessler had with a bent copper. Vince had told me about him a couple of weeks ago and claimed that Dessler had him on a retainer.
‘He’s a detective,’ Vince had said. ‘I’ve never met the guy but apparently he’s an arrogant bastard.’
The officer kept the law away from Dessler and tipped him off if a raid on one of his properties was in the offing. Vince had been told about the relationship and was aiming to get some photos next. It was a process we knew only too well. It was how we proved that George Banks was selling drugs. Catch them in the act. Secure irrefutable evidence. It was good investigative journalism and police corruption was a legitimate target, especially as the latest official statistics showed a huge increase in corrupt activities during the past three years. There were more incidents of cash being stolen during raids, illegal use of police computers, the taking of bribes, fabrication of evidence and the passing of sensitive information to criminals.
Criminals like Joe Dessler.
So was he involved in this? Was he the mystery man who was hoping to be £18 million richer after submitting Vince’s lottery ticket?
If you talk to the police I’ll know within minutes from a contact on the inside.
That’s what the kidnapper had said when I answered the phone to him at the cottage, minutes after I stumbled on Vince’s body.
A contact on the inside. Could that be the corrupt detective Vince had got wind of? It was an uncomfortable thought knowing that the kidnapper had someone inside the police helping him out. It made my position more precarious and made me realize that terrible things were going to happen to my family if I didn’t get an opportunity to save them.
And how likely was that? The kidnapper was in control. I was just a pawn, doing what he told me to do. Once he took me out of circulation I’d be at his mercy, along with Maggie and Laura. And so my mind circled around this thought: For how long would he keep us alive?
Would he claim the lottery money before deciding when and how to finish us off? Or would he rush to do to us what he had done to Vince?
A wave of dread travelled up and down my spine. Whoever this bastard was he was cruel and calculating. He probably wouldn’t make any mistakes with so much money riding on the success of his outrageous plan.
The panic started to rise in me just as something else seized my attention. A car was approaching along the road, its nearside hugging the kerb. I couldn’t tell what make. The headlights were on full beam. It was crawling along at a snail’s pace. I stopped breathing as I watched its progress. My pulse accelerated to an alarming rate. My stomach muscles contracted.
Then the car stopped about five yards away from me. The twin beams pinned me against the wall, causing me to shield my eyes with my hands.
I waited.
After a few seconds the driver’s door opened. I took a step forward. Saw a figure emerge on to the pavement. I couldn’t see his face beyond the brightness. Suddenly every nerve ending in my body came alive.
I took another step and a strangely muffled voice said, ‘Is that you, Cain?’
‘It’s me,’ I replied. ‘I’ve been here for an hour. I want to see my wife and daughter. You said you’d take me to them.’
The man moved to the left and I got to see him. He was dressed in dark clothes and his face was concealed beneath a ski mask.
‘Start walking towards me,’ he said. ‘I have a gun in my pocket and I won’t hesitate to use it if you try to be a hero.’
The kidnapper stepped away from the door as I got close, but not before opening the boot. I tried to ascertain the make of the car, but it wasn’t instantly recognizable and I didn’t have the mental capacity to concentrate. My focus was on the menacing figure in front of me. The movie image of a terrorist or bank robber. But this was real and the sight of him chilled me to the bone. Sinister. Malevolent. Threatening. All words I could have used to describe him.
‘Get inside,’ he said. ‘And be quick about it.’
I hesitated. There was a good chance the bastard did not have a gun in his pocket, so if I jumped him I might bring him down. But what purpose would that serve? I needed him to take me to Maggie and Laura. That was the whole point of following his instructions, even though the likely outcome didn’t bear thinking about.
‘This is the only way you’ll get to see your family again,’ he said. ‘So get in the fucking boot.’
‘How do I know you’ll take me to them?’ I said.
‘You’ll just have to trust me, won’
t you? Not that you have much choice.’
I looked around. The street was still empty. The park seemed even darker. I could no longer see any other people. The knot of anticipation in my stomach tightened. The masked man was right. I didn’t really have a choice. He was pulling my strings.
I stepped towards the gaping boot and put one foot in. That was when he pulled something from his pocket and cracked it across the back of my head. There was a blast of pain and I felt myself falling forward into the cavernous boot.
Before the blackness consumed me I heard the squeal of a siren, coming closer and growing louder.
18
‘The mobile service provider says the location of both phones has just changed,’ said a disembodied voice over the patrol car radio. ‘They’re together still but on the move.’
Temple didn’t like the way this was shaping up. He knew that desperate men tend to resort to desperate measures. And if Cain had indeed killed Vince Mayo then he might well have flipped altogether. This made Temple more than a little anxious about what was happening.
‘It sounds like Cain has met up with his wife,’ he said. ‘Maybe his daughter is with them too. It’s a scary thought. If he has lost it completely then they could be in danger.’
As the squad car sped through the city, siren blaring, Temple felt his heart gathering pace. They were closing in according to the voice on the radio. The phone signal placed their quarry in London Road, then Winchester Road, then The Avenue.
‘They’re heading for the motorway,’ the driver said.
Temple leaned forward and grabbed the radio. He started barking out orders. He wanted the northbound carriageway of the M3 closed off. He also wanted all cars to converge on the area.
‘And remind everyone that this man is likely to be extremely dangerous and could be armed,’ he said.
Seconds later they were told that the phones were no longer moving. They were stopped at a petrol station just before the start of the motorway.
