‘But he didn’t,’ Wendy Lee said.
‘No. John Santini contacted Harlan Shapiro and gave him a couple of days to come up with the money. No police or all bets were off and then he would be collecting his wife and daughter in plastic bags. Given their history as enforcers for East Coast organised crime it was no idle threat. Not that Harlan Shapiro knew that, of course. He is a man used to getting his own way.’
I took a sip of my coffee. ‘Harlan Shapiro decided to make a stand. Like his government he was going to stand firm in the face of terrorism, as he saw it. He needed a private detective agency known for getting the job done. One that would not hesitate if lethal force was required. One that wouldn’t be hamstrung with legal bureaucracy and Miranda rights, etc., etc. One that would get his wife and daughter back safe. He never believed that if he paid the money the kidnappers would make good on their promise. Most likely he was right.’
‘Wouldn’t be the first time,’ Sam agreed.
‘Yeah, so he went to a private-investigation outfit he had used a few times before. Run by a guy called Prentiss who assigned Jack Morgan to the case.
‘Right off the bat Jack advised Harlan Shapiro to pay the ransom. From what he had heard of the operation he deduced they were dealing with a couple of chancers whose ambitions far outstretched their likely experience. Pay the ransom and he could practically guarantee they would trace the kidnappers down, recover the money and deliver them to justice.’
‘But Shapiro didn’t listen to him?’ asked Suzy.
I shook my head. ‘No. He didn’t.’
‘Jack obviously managed to get them back, though?’ asked Lucy puzzled.
‘Not entirely. He saved Hannah. But not before she was forced to watch her mother being raped by Vincent Cabrello and murdered by John Santini.’
‘That’s awful.’
‘You’ve got to remember that Jack didn’t have the resources of Private behind him at the time, Lucy. When he got there he was too late for Jessica but at least he saved Hannah.’
‘What happened to the kidnappers?’
I smiled bleakly. ‘Let’s just say they didn’t make it to trial.’
‘You reckon the two cases are connected?’ asked Brad Dexter.
Chapter 32
I SHOOK MY HEAD.
‘I can’t see how. Cabrello and Santini were operating independently. Their ties to the East Coast were cut. This was their cock-up, pure and simple. So whoever has her now has nothing to do with that first abduction. That’s the one thing we can be a hundred per cent sure of.’
‘Still no ransom demands?’ asked Sam.
‘Not so far.’
Adrian held up his hand.
‘You don’t have to put your hand up, Adrian.’ I gestured at him to spit out his thoughts.
‘Maybe it isn’t a kidnapping as such.’
‘Go on?’ I prompted.
I knew where he was going with this and I didn’t like it one bit.
‘Maybe it’s not a kidnap for ransom as such, like the last time was. The murder scene I was called out to last night. A young woman … she maybe had organs harvested from her.’
‘Maybe?’
‘We’re waiting on the post-mortem,’ added Wendy Lee.
‘The tip of her wedding finger was missing,’ added Adrian Tuttle.
‘And this relates to Hannah Shapiro how?’ asked Sam.
‘Because it’s not the first time, Sam,’ I said. Facing the fact that it might already be far too late for Hannah.
Wendy Lee nodded and put it out there. ‘It looks like there’s a serial killer,’ she said. ‘In the city. Targeting healthy young women.’
‘Women like Hannah,’ said Adrian Tuttle, looking at the picture of the beautiful young American woman that filled the video screen.
Chapter 33
PROFESSOR ANNABELLE WESTON was older than Hannah but every bit as striking.
I’d have placed her in her mid-thirties if I’d had to guess. Five seven or eight, give or take the heels on a pair of court shoes. Long strawberry-blonde hair, lively, almost turquoise eyes. A light splash of freckles across her shoulders but her face was alabaster-clear with high cheekbones. Her teeth wouldn’t have looked out of place in a San Diego beauty pageant – and she certainly wasn’t dressed like any professor from my day!
She was wearing skintight jeans, cowboy boots and a pastel-blue cashmere sweater that did nothing to distract from her womanly figure.
Her hair was tied back in a loose kind of scarf, and she had a pair of glasses perched on the end of her nose, just the way Alison wore them. These were tortoiseshell, giving her an academic look, which I guess she was entitled to. The eyes behind the lenses of those glasses were deadly serious.
‘You’re not working with the police on this, then?’ she asked.
Her voice was as English as her strawberries-and-cream complexion. Home counties. Money. Pound to a penny she had polo ponies featuring somewhere in her childhood.
I shook my head. ‘No,’ I said leaning forward and handing her my card. ‘We often work with the police in an official capacity, but in this instance we are pursuing a separate investigation.’
‘I don’t understand. We have had the proper authorities talking to everyone here already. What is your interest, specifically?’
She glanced at my business card, then looked at me challengingly. There was steel behind the beauty. I wouldn’t fancy my chances if I was one of her students trying to bluff my way to an extension on an overdue assignment.
‘We’re representing Hannah’s family,’ said Sam Riddel who was sitting beside me.
‘And we have a personal interest too,’ I added.
‘And what would that be?’
‘You were Hannah’s tutor, is that right?’ I asked.
‘Yes, I was.’ She caught herself. ‘That is to say, I am her tutor.’
‘And likewise Chloe Wilson’s?’
‘Yes. Both of them.’
‘Chloe Wilson is my god-daughter, Professor Weston.’
‘Oh …’
She reacted, taking it in, and the hardness in her eyes softened to genuine concern. ‘How is she? Has she regained consciousness?’
‘She’s stable but still critical. They are keeping an eye on her round the clock.’
‘If there’s anything I can do …?’
‘That’s why we’re here, professor. Whoever did this isn’t going to get away with it. I can promise you that, and I can promise we will find Hannah and bring her home unharmed.’
I don’t know why I said that last part. Or rather I did – I wanted to impress the woman, I guess.
‘Poor Hannah. I can’t bear to think what she is going through.’
‘She will be safe for the moment, professor. I know that much.’ I almost believed it myself.
‘Call me Annabelle, please.’
I resisted the urge to say it was a pretty name. But it was. ‘They will be keeping her safe, Annabelle,’ I said instead. ‘She’s precious goods to them. Until we hear their demands I am pretty certain they won’t harm a hair on her head.’
‘There has been no contact with the family, then? No ransom demand?’
I shook my head.
I didn’t tell her the other possibility that Adrian Tuttle had raised in the morning’s briefing. That she had been taken for body parts and for all we knew was already dead.
‘I’m sure we’ll hear something soon,’ I said. ‘And the entire resources of Private worldwide are at my disposal to get her safely home.’
‘Shouldn’t the police be left to handle it?’
‘The police will be doing everything they can. But sometimes we can do more.’
‘How so?’
‘Each year in London alone there about one hundred and seventy homicides,’ I said. ‘That’s more than one every three days. And that’s just homicide. If you take into account every other crime, from theft and assault to rape, that occurs in this city, never mind the ongoing
threat of terrorist attacks that have to be investigated – if you think about that, then you can see that we can bring to bear on this case something the Metropolitan Police could never hope to.’
‘Which is?’ the professor asked.
‘Absolute focus.’ I said
And it was true.
Professor Weston looked down at my business card for a moment and then nodded, lifted her head and looked me straight in the eye.
‘Just tell me what you need.’
Chapter 34
SUZY CRADLED THE phone to her ear and typed on the computer keyboard in front of her.
‘Copy that, Dan,’ she said as the crest of Chancellors University appeared in the centre of the screen above the word SECURITY printed in block capitals.
She clicked on the crest and the image fragmented into a thousand pixels floating off the screen, leaving a plain password box in its place.
‘Okay, I got it,’ she said. ‘I’ll get back to you.’ She clicked her phone shut as Lucy came in.
‘What have we got?’
‘Dan’s been to see Hannah and Chloe’s tutor. She’s the faculty liaison officer with security at the college.’
‘Which means?’
‘She has access to the security files online. Including CCTV footage.’
Suzy quickly typed in the password. Flicking through several screens and pulling up a list of digitally stored data. She clicked against yesterday’s date and then against the cameras marked for the union bar and then the quad outside. She right-clicked and saved them as AVI files.
She stood up and grinned. ‘Come on.’
‘Where to?’
‘You haven’t seen this yet. It’s fun.’
Lucy followed her, puzzled, as she walked away from her desk and led her back to the conference room.
Inside, Suzy opened the top drawer of a storage unit and took out two pairs of what appeared to be lightly tinted sunglasses. She threw Lucy a pair, slipped hers on and picked up the thin wandlike remote control that operated the television that dominated the far end of the room. She stepped to the side and flicked a switch. Shutters dropped over the exterior and interior of the windows and the lights dimmed to almost darkness.
‘Lights, camera, action,’ said Suzy, pressing the control, and the Union Bar of Chancellors College filled the screen. Suzy freeze-framed the image and pulled out her notebook.
She pointed the control at the monitor again, clicked the button and light danced into the room, transforming the two-dimensional image in a full holographic-style 3D effect as the tape played and a burst of motion surrounded the on-screen figures.
‘Last night’s footage,’ explained Suzy. ‘The computer takes the feed from each camera and triangulates it, making the image three-dimensional.’
Lucy held out her hand and flinched as a large and extremely drunk young man seemed to walk straight at her.
‘The police will have this footage as well but they have nowhere near this kind of image-enhancement and three-dimensional-projection technology.’
Lucy nodded, impressed. It really felt as if she could reach out and pick up a glass off one of the tables.
‘Sound as well. Chancellors recently had their whole security network upgraded.’
Lucy pushed another button and the deafening noise of the bar filled the room. She adjusted the volume to a reasonable level and used the control to navigate around the room, coming to the entrance door where she fast-forwarded until Chloe and her two friends came in and walked up to the bar.
Two brunettes and a blonde. Young, vibrant, beautiful.
Dressed up for a night of partying, by the looks of them. There was no shortage of young men hitting on them and they particularly drew the attention of a large crowd who were wearing CUL rugby shirts. They seemed perfectly capable of deflecting the unwanted attention. Suzy guessed they were probably used to it.
Lucy and Suzy let the tape run and the events unfold around them. The girls were downing vodka and Red Bulls like they were going out of fashion. At least, Hannah and Laura were. Dan’s god-daughter Chloe seemed to be holding back.
After about an hour Suzy paused the tape – she had watched it up to the girls leaving the bar – and then rewound. She zoomed in a little on Hannah and Chloe who were talking. Having to shout to make themselves heard. Suzy killed the volume from the other cameras, turned up the one focused on the girls and let the sequence run again.
Chapter 35
‘Good thinking, girlfriend. Bunch of goddamned horny schoolboys in here, is all. I need to pee first, though, honey.’
Hannah looped her arm through that of Laura who was being chatted up by a lanky youth and headed to the loos.
Chloe put a hand on the bar, seeming to steady herself.
‘She look all right to you, Lucy?’ asked Suzy as she paused the footage again.
‘No. Not for the amount she’s had. She’s not been drinking as much as the other girls.’
‘No. She’s keeping herself sober. Or trying to.’
‘Always on the case.’
Suzy nodded. ‘She’s a pro. You figure her drink was spiked?’
‘Looks that way.’
Suzy nodded and ran the tape again, watching as the barman chatted to Chloe who then nearly collapsed as she walked away. She stood up unsteadily and brushed away the hand of one of the rugby players who had come across to help her.
Chloe was five foot ten in her bare feet and the man seemed surprised at her strength. He backed off, holding his hand up, and Chloe stumbled through a crowd of his friends who were singing loudly. She lurched through them, through the door and up the ancient stone steps out into the night.
‘Someone spiked her drink,’ said Suzy. ‘I guarantee it.’
‘Maybe it was caught on camera?’
‘Let’s find out,’ said Suzy as she rewound the footage and fast-forwarded it again. Slowing it down as drinks were poured and handed over.
Some half an hour or so after the girls had entered the bar she paused it again. Then ran it backwards and forwards a few more times. The crowd of rugby players and another bunch of male students were at the bar and the barman was obscured from view for a while. When the crowd cleared, Chloe had a new drink in front of her.
‘One of those men at the bar?’ asked Lucy.
‘Could be.’ Suzy tried to adjust the angle of view but there wasn’t a camera behind the bar pointing down, only one pointing outwards, so there was no way they could see what had happened to Chloe’s drink. She pulled out her phone and hit a speed-dial button. She listened to Dan’s recorded voice as the call went direct to voicemail.
‘Dan, it’s Suzy,’ she said after the beep. ‘Get someone onto Chloe’s blood works at the hospital. It looks like she was slipped a Mickey of some sort.’
She closed her phone and turned back to the screen.
‘Why would someone have just targeted Hannah?’ asked Lucy.
‘I don’t know. Unless they knew who she was.’
Suzy pressed the remote again and they sat and watched as the external security cameras picked up the action. Switching data files as Chloe came up the steps leading into the quad, walking across it and out into the side street.
She flipped the control again and called up the earlier footage as Chloe left the bar. She watched her leave, weaving through the group of drunken rugby players. One of them was watching her very closely.
Suzy let the tape run for a few moments more and then whistled quietly.
‘Well, well, well,’ she said.
She clicked another button and the printer standing in the corner of the room beeped and hummed into life.
Chapter 36
THE UNION JACK Café near Shaftesbury Avenue was one of the last of a dying breed in the capital. A proper greasy spoon.
I had ordered the full monty – eggs, bacon, sausages, hash browns, mushrooms, black pudding – but when it arrived I pushed it aside. The memory of Chloe lying in bed with a tube in her mout
h kind of spoiled my appetite.
Sam Riddel was carving his yolk-free scrambled eggs on wheat toast with surgical precision. He laid his fork carefully aside and took a sip of his chilled organic tomato juice. His breakfast went against all the principles of the café, but we had been coming here long enough for the owner to compromise for Sam. Besides, most people didn’t argue with my colleague. Apart from his boyfriend and me, that was.
Suzy came in, carrying an A4 manila envelope.
‘What have you got?’ I asked.
‘Not sure yet, but you’ll want to see this.’ She opened the envelope and put a photo in front of me. ‘This is the guy serving Chloe and the others last night in the union bar. I’ve heard back from the hospital …’
‘And?’
‘And Chloe’s blood work was showing traces of an intermediate-acting three-hydroxy benzodiazepine.’
‘Which means?’
‘Temazepam,’ said Sam and took another delicate sip of his tomato juice.
‘Someone slipped her a Mickey. Lucy and I went through all the footage, there were a couple of possibilities,’ Suzy said, tapping the photo. ‘This guy had ample opportunity and he’s out of sight of the CCTV easily for long enough to spike her vodka. He leaves the bar shortly after Chloe. He doesn’t show up in the quad but there are other exits not covered by any camera.’
‘And the other possibility?’
‘A group of men at the bar. Rugby team – one of them shows a very keen interest in her.’
Suzy flipped a couple of photos down. The young men from the security footage. Early twenties, big, boisterous by the look of it, wearing the university rugby colours. And a further one. A close-up shot of one of the men. A degree more serious than the others, his eyes unsmiling as he looked at Chloe leaving. An intense, predatory look.
‘Good job. We got names on these people yet?’
‘The barman’s called Ryan Williams. He’s being interviewed down at Paddington Green even as we speak.’
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