'Oh, I don't know, Annie. I think it might be too soon.'
'Look, it's time for you to man up, boss. I need you back here in the office ASAP because I’m completely out of my depth on a job at a big store in Buchanan Street, that’s being targeted by shoplifters. I don't have a clue what to do and on top of that, one of my friends has just gone missing. So remember, ten o'clock sharp tomorrow morning and be ready. I’ll have the crane on speed-dial and you're coming out of that flat one way or another. Pyjamas are optional and, if you're a brave little soldier, I promise to buy you breakfast. Do we have a deal?'
'I suppose so,' said Jack reluctantly. 'But remember, I'll need to be back at two o'clock for part two of Jeremy Kyle. You know, to see how wee Ralph gets on.'
Chapter 8
After speaking to Jack, Annie was on the point of reviewing more security video footage from days when the department store had suffered its biggest losses, when her mobile rang. Checking the caller’s identity, she smiled with relief and said, 'hi Jamie, where have you been? I've been trying to get in touch with you for ages.’
'Naw, it's no Jamie,' said a gruff male voice, youngish and definitely local to Glasgow. 'Listen, I'm no sure … but I've got an iPhone 6 here that maybe belongs to your mate, Jamie. I tried his home number first, like, but there was no reply. So then I checked his contacts … and that's where I got your number. I hope you don't mind, like, but you were the last person he spoke to.'
'Yeah, no worries,’ said Annie warily, as she tried to work out what on earth was going on. ‘You're definitely using his phone so, tell me, how did get hold of it?' Something about this guy just didn't sound right. He was hesitant, as if politeness did not come naturally to him, and also stumbling over his words, almost as if he was being prompted by someone else. First red flag.
'Look, it's, em … a bit complicated, like, to explain everything right now. But, if it's definitely his phone, I can maybe get it back to him sometime today.' The caller was trying to sound like a Good Samaritan, reaching out to help a stranger. Aye right, thought Annie. Second red flag.
'That would be really great. So where can we meet up?' said Annie evenly, keeping up the pretence that she was talking to a solid citizen.
'Yeah, look we can do that for sure, maybe in the city centre somewhere. Aye, no problem, like. But the thing is … I have some, er … out of pocket expenses that he would need to cover. You know, before we can meet up.' Third red flag. A big one.
'I don't understand,' said Annie. 'If we're talking about paying a taxi fare, then that wouldn't be a problem.'
'No, I'm thinking more like a reward.'
'Okay then, so how much are we talking about here?' said Annie, starting to lose patience. ‘You tell me.' There were now more red flags flying than at the annual Red Army parade in Moscow.
No hesitation by the caller, 'right, five hundred pounds is the going rate for one of these bad boys. Cash. And yer buddy Jamie can get his iPhone back today, in exactly the same condition as the last time he saw it.'
'What? How come it's that much?' said Annie, genuinely shocked. 'I was thinking that maybe twenty or thirty pounds would cover it.'
A swift change of tone. Impatient now, with all pretence of being a Good Samaritan suddenly gone. 'Well it fucking disnae, okay. Look, I don't give a shit either way. That's the deal on offer, so you and your speccy wee pal can either take it or leave it. Oh, and by the way, don't bother with all that fancy Track my Phone shite, because you'll be wasting your time.'
Annie attempted to keep the conversation going, as she desperately tried to remember if the meagre balance in her current account would cover the outrageous sum being demanded. 'No wait, please don't hang up. Would two hundred pounds work for you?'
'Naw, it widnae.'
'Okay then, can you meet me half way? How about three hundred? Honestly, he’s just a student and I'm certain that's all he can afford to pay to get it back.'
A pause, then an exasperated, 'for fuck's sake, man, you're doin’ ma head in, so ye are.’
Annie took the silence that followed as a sign that she was perhaps getting somewhere and tentatively asked, 'so do we have a deal here, or not?'
'Who would be coming to pick it up?'
That's a yes then, thought Annie, before replying. 'I'll do it for Jamie, I work here in the city centre anyway.'
'Right then, be at stance 48 in the bus station at three o'clock. That's where the express bus from Edinburgh comes in. Oh, and don't even think about contacting the police, or trying any other stupid shit, because we'll be watching. Understand?'
'Absolutely. I'll be there at three o'clock with the money. By the way, I've got short blond hair and I'll be wearing jeans and a black leather jacket. How will I recognise you?'
'You won't. Just be there and have the dosh ready in an envelope. Someone will come up to you and let you see that it's definitely your mate's phone. You hand over the cash and get the phone. Everybody's happy, sorted.'
'Fair enough, three o'clock at the bus station then,' said Annie, as the call ended abruptly.
Sitting back in her chair, her mind whirled as she tried to make sense of the phone call. Now she knew exactly why Jamie wasn't answering his phone. The thieving bastard she'd just spoken to had somehow got hold of it. But the more worrying question was, why on earth hadn't Jamie been in touch to let her know what happened?
She called Jamie's home number again several times. Still no answer. And then she remembered that he'd mentioned something about his retired parents being away on a Mediterranean cruise for two weeks. She next tried his office, where work colleagues were equally puzzled regarding his whereabouts. Finally, she contacted their night school lecturer at the college, on the off chance that Jamie had dropped off some material for an overdue class project. Nothing. Jamie Boyd had dropped off the face of the earth. It didn't make any sense.
Checking her watch, she realised there was only twenty minutes left until the three o'clock rendezvous at the bus station. She wished Jack was with her, but he wasn't. Sort this one out yourself, Annie. How hard can it be to handle a simple exchange with a scumbag thief, right in the middle of one of the busiest public places in Glasgow? So hurriedly gathering up her jacket and messenger bag, she locked the office, ran down the stairs and unhitched her bike from the railings outside.
Ten minutes later, after emptying her bank account at an ATM, she arrived at Buchanan Street bus station, then carefully padlocked her bike and went in search of stance 48. Checking her watch, she saw that she was a few minutes early. A casual stroll around the concourse looking at the electronic arrivals boards, while trying to spot any suspicious looking characters, proved fruitless. Some days in Glasgow everyone looks suspicious.
At five past two she was starting to wonder if she'd been stood up, when a short stocky figure, wearing motor cycle gear and a brightly coloured full-face helmet, walked straight up to her and said, with the same gruff voice she’d heard in the phone call, 'you got the three hundred?'
'Let me see the phone first,' replied Annie, warily.
Reaching inside his jacket, the biker produced an iPhone and briefly showed her the home screen, which she recognised, confirming that the device definitely belonged to Jamie. Assuming that the handover was nearly concluded, Annie subconsciously relaxed and rummaged around inside her courier bag, trying to find the envelope with the money. At the exact moment she pulled the envelope from inside the bag, the biker seized his chance. Grabbing the envelope from her hand, he pushed Annie backwards and she suddenly found herself lying on the ground, caught up in a pile of travellers' suitcases and a howling baby's pushchair.
Cursing her stupidity, Annie untangled herself from the luggage and ran in the direction the biker had taken to exit the bus station. Skidding to a halt on the pavement outside, she looked around desperately, scanning up and down the street for the thief. Nothing. And then, fifty yards away, she caught a glimpse of the distinctive yellow and green crash helmet. The iPhone thief was a pillion pa
ssenger on a motorbike, stuck in a snarl of traffic waiting to turn left at the junction with North Hanover Street. Annie sprinted flat out and got within twenty yards of the stationary motorbike, when she saw the traffic lights were about to change. Pulling out her phone, she jumped on top of a litter bin and put the phone’s camera into burst mode. Holding it as high as she could, Annie hoped she would get lucky and catch a picture of the bike's rear number plate as it disappeared, weaving between a group of accelerating cars and vans.
Bent over, with hands on knees, trying to catch her breath at the kerbside, Annie berated herself for being caught so stupidly off guard. 'Shit, shit, shit … no phone, no Jamie and now no money. Outstanding job, Annie. The big time detective, not. You've really excelled yourself this time girl.’
Chapter 9
Following the debacle at the bus station, Annie quickly cycled back to the office, with her brain in a complete turmoil as she tried to work out her next move. The answer was obvious, she had to speak to Jack. Even if he didn't feel ready to get involved directly, he would still know exactly what to do. But first she scrolled through twenty-odd images from the camera on her phone, praying she had captured a decent shot of the motorbike. Quickly she narrowed it down to two useable pictures, which she cropped, enlarged and sharpened using Photoshop editing software, to enhance the images. Still not great, but one slightly blurred picture did at least show a partial registration number and the other had most of the motorbike in profile, as it sped off round the corner.
Annie picked up the phone and dialled Jack’s number. 'Hi boss, it's me. I need your help ASAP. I've messed up, big time.'
She explained how her friend Jamie Boyd had been out of touch for two days, with his phone switched off. Completely out of character for him and then the phone call today from the chancer who had somehow got hold of Jamie’s iPhone. Finally, her cheeks burned as she described the botched handover at the bus station.
'Look Annie, don't beat yourself up over this, okay? You made an arse of it, fair enough, but we've all been there. All you can do in these situations is put your hands up … learn from it and move on. At least you might have a couple of pictures we can work with. But I wish you'd phoned me first, I could have taken a taxi to the bus station and tried to give you a hand.'
'Yeah, I know. But I didn't want to bother you, while you're still recovering. And it all happened so quickly, I wasn't thinking properly. I just thought I could handle it myself.'
'To be fair, it does sound like these guys are maybe semi-pro. There was obviously a fair bit of planning involved, so they've maybe pulled this stunt before. Okay, what's done is done, Annie, now we have to consider all of the possibilities. It's unlikely your friend has been kidnapped, abducted by aliens or dropped dead of a heart attack. But he could have been arrested and held in custody for some unknown reason, or he might be laid up in hospital somewhere. Who knows, maybe he was knocked down by a car and some no-good scum bag stole his phone while he was lying on the road, waiting for an ambulance. It sounds unbelievable, I know, that someone would do that. But it happens all the time.'
'Oh my God, you’re right. Why didn't I think of that?'
'So what you need to do right now, before anything else, is phone round all of the Accident and Emergency hospitals and try and find out if he's been admitted anywhere in the city. But wait, just before you do that, email me those two pictures you got of the motorbike. I'll have a look at them and then try and get hold of Andy Walsh at CID HQ. If I ask nicely, he might be able to run a check to see if anyone answering Jamie’s description is in custody anywhere in the city.
‘Believe me, Jamie’s the least likely person in Glasgow to get arrested.’
‘I know, but it has to be checked anyway, just in case. Hopefully, Andy can also run a search on the QT for the bike’s number plate. It just depends how smart these two guys are. Obviously the bike could be stolen, or the number plate might be false. Who knows, but at least it's somewhere to start.'
Starting to feel slightly better, Annie said, 'okay, I'll get right onto phoning round the hospitals.'
'After I contact Andy, I'm going to take a quick shower and put some clothes on,' said Jack. 'How about if you pick me up at the flat in about an hour and we'll compare notes and see where we are, okay?'
'Thanks boss,' said Annie, smiling to herself with relief. Jack Davidson was back in the game.
Chapter 10
Annie parked outside Jack's tenement building an hour later and phoned him, letting his home phone ring twice, the usual signal to announce her arrival.
A couple of minutes later, freshly washed, shaved and smartly dressed her partner emerged from the tenement entrance, looked up and down the street and scratched his head in puzzlement. Annie got out of the car and walked over to where Jack was standing.
She gave him a hug and said, ‘hi boss, it’d great to see you’ve finally emerged from the old bat cave. Come on, the car’s just down here.’
As they walked along a line of parked cars, Annie blipped a key fob which unlocked a smart red three-door Vauxhall Corsa hatchback and said, 'here we are, hop in.'
Annie had never liked driving Jack's clunky old Ford Mondeo and, while he was still in hospital, she’d taken the opportunity to arrange alternative transport.
Jack scratched his head, looked up and down the street in puzzlement, then asked, 'but where's my car?'
Sighing, Annie explained patiently, 'look we talked about this a couple of weeks ago, remember? You agreed that it was a good idea for me to get something new and more reliable to use for work. So I’ve set up a short term lease deal for a company car. It’s just for a few months, to see how it goes.'
As they got into the car and put their seat belts on, Jack scratched his head and said, 'I honestly don't remember any of that.'
'I also emailed you a pdf copy of the lease agreement to read. I got a really good deal.'
'I'm not doubting you for a minute, Annie. It's just really worrying that my short-term memory is so crap.'
'Look, the surgeon did say that might be a problem, but he was confident that in time you’ll gradually get back to normal. Try writing everything down in the little notebook I gave you. That way you won't forget anything.'
'Yeah, but there's only one problem with that, Annie.'
'Don't tell me …’
'I have been using it, honestly. But I can't remember where I've put it. If I could just find my reading glasses, that's definitely where it'll be.'
Annie smiled and pulled away from the parking bay before saying, 'okay, don't try to force it. Your memory will come back soon, don't worry.'
After a couple of minutes of silence, Jack took a deep breath and said, 'but it's funny … I can remember every detail about some things. I keep getting flashbacks about … you know, the night that bastard Thomas Burke tried to kill us both. I have the same nightmare every night, Annie, and I wake up shaking like a leaf and soaked in sweat. I'm only getting three or four hours sleep and that's why I haven't been able to concentrate on anything to do with work. Look, I know I should have told you all of this earlier, but I've been hoping that it would all just go away.'
Alarmed by this news, Annie pulled the car into the side of the road, turned in her seat and said, 'I knew something was wrong. No wonder you've got those big black bags under your eyes. Have you talked to your doctor about this?’
'I did, but he didn't seem too concerned. His theory is that I'm probably feeling guilty because I very nearly got you killed. He's right about that, of course.'
'But that's crazy. What happened with Thomas Burke was just as much my fault as yours. And as usual I completely ignored your advice.’
Jack appeared unconvinced by this line of reasoning and said, 'I've been meaning to ask, Annie, have you been sleeping all right?'
'Yes, the first few nights after it happened were a bit rough, but since then I've been okay. A couple of glasses of wine before bedtime usually helps.'
'Th
at's good. Anyway the doc said that I should just keep taking the anti-anxiety tablets and try not to worry about it. Easier said than done though.'
'Makes sense, I suppose. But it was pretty traumatic. Look boss, I'm really sorry I've dragged you out of the house, when you're obviously not feeling like it. I'll take you back home.'
'No it's okay, honestly. It's actually good to be out doing something normal again and talking with you face to face, instead of using the iPad. It's also good to have somebody else to worry about instead of myself. I did eventually get hold of Andy and I passed on your pictures of the motorbike the iPhone thieves were using. While I was talking to him, he checked and Jamie doesn’t appear to be in custody with the cops, so we can forget that angle. He's got one of his best young guys, who's a keen biker, trying to ID the bike and trace the number plate. They're also doing a trawl of an intelligence database, listing all of the local widos who are known to fence stolen high-end mobile phones. He said he'll get back to me as soon as they've got something. How did you get on?'
'Well I phoned round all of the hospitals, just like you said, and explained the circumstances. I gave them Jamie's name, address and a physical description, but came up empty each time. So I was sitting in the office scratching my head and wondering what to do next, when a staff nurse from the Royal Infirmary phoned back to say she'd double checked their records and they do have a young man in ward 105, who maybe answers the description I gave them. He was attacked in the street and brought in early on Sunday morning, suffering from head injuries and memory loss. They don't have a name for him yet.'
'But at least the timeline fits. So it’s definitely worth checking out.’
'Yes, so I emailed her a recent picture of Jamie. She said it might be him, but she couldn't be sure because of the extent of his facial injuries.'
'Shit, how bad is he? Did she say?'
'She obviously didn't want to go into too much detail, with a stranger over the telephone, and suggested that I should come to the hospital to see if I can maybe identify him by his street clothes. Oh God, this is horrible, boss. I'm not sure if I want it to be Jamie or not.'
Bridge of Doom Page 4
