Missing

by Charlie Gallagher

  ‘You wouldn’t.’

  ‘I would. I don’t want to, Sharon, but I would. I’d much rather have a cup of tea with you here and we can talk about how we find the people that did this. Even if you don’t want to, there’s a bigger picture, other families are being affected by these people and I don’t have much time.’

  ‘Other families? What are you talking about?’

  ‘You first.’

  ‘Christ, George!’ Sharon finished the tea, she slopped it down on the side close to George. ‘This lad knocked and spoke to Bobby. He wouldn’t speak in front of me but I managed to get a gist of it from being stood in here. He wanted Bobby to meet with someone, he said it was mutually beneficial. He said that a lot. I know it wasn’t him saying those words — this kid don’t know words like mutually beneficial. Someone sent him here with his head full of something.’

  ‘And Bobby did meet?’

  ‘Yeah. He went down the pub and some fella bought him a beer. I know what you’re going to ask me, I don’t know okay, I don’t know who this fella was. I just know that he’s not someone Bobby knew, which means he ain’t from Langthorne. And he was all dressed up like — a suit and shit.’

  ‘What was his business?’

  ‘Drugs. They’re all about drugs ain’t they? You see kids out there, ten, eleven years old on their push bikes with drugs in their backpacks. I only got to walk to the shops and I see them all out and about. Sickens me.’

  ‘You’re not wrong.’

  ‘Bobby wouldn’t tell me what it was all about, but he suddenly seemed brighter, you know? Like this meeting had given him something to be cheery about. I couldn’t put my finger on it. Bobby ain’t ever been one to sell drugs. He was always dead against it, even when he was younger. When Lizzy got stuck into them he turned even more against them. He got into a few fist fights with local dealers after she died. He’d see a deal go down in a beer garden or a car park and he’d just flip out. I had to drag him away.’

  ‘So it’s strange that he’d meet with someone involved in drugs.’

  ‘He got his head turned. I couldn’t get no truth out of him — nothing about what had happened. Then we had a few beers. Connor was round his mate’s house and he was staying out. He’s mates with a good family on the other side of the tracks. Nice people, decent people — I could tell they was decent ’cause they wouldn’t let their boy come round here.’ Sharon allowed another smile. She poured another measure, a little smaller this time. ‘We had a few of these and I got him talking — I’ve always known how to get him talking. They offered him a deal. Enough cash to set his family up and all he had to do was get some information from the police. The police got called when he took the pills so he was on record for having mental health issues for trying to do himself in. Seems they needed someone like that.’

  ‘What information?’

  ‘He had to go stand on a cliff. I remember it was a Sunday a few weeks back. It was a specific time and he had to pretend like he was going to jump. They send out negotiators, your lot — you know that already though, right?’

  ‘I know how it works, Sharon, sure. But you tell me what you know.’

  ‘He was up there for ages. He had something in his ear, someone was talking to him the whole time, telling him what to say, what to ask. Then, after a while, he got talked down and the cops walked him down to where I was stood with the ambulance. They took him to A&E, he got some pills and we was home by midnight.’ Sharon stubbed out the cigarette forcefully.

  George swigged his tea. ‘So they must have approached him again then?’

  ‘They must have. Bobby told me that he had to do it again — the same deal — and then he would get a little bit of money. He told me he didn’t know what the information was for, and I believed him. You live with someone for forty odd years, you know when they are lying to you.’

  ‘I guess you do. Did you know the timing of the next one?’

  ‘No. Bobby said he didn’t either, but now I know he did. He was upset last week — more and more upset the closer it got to the weekend. Then on Sunday, he said he wanted to go out and watch the game down the pub. Millwall were on at two in the afternoon and then there was some other game straight after. He was going to be out all afternoon, so he gave me a couple of hundred quid and said I should take Connor into Canterbury for some shopping. I can’t remember the last time I went out shopping with money on the hip, George. I jumped at it.’

  ‘You didn’t think it was odd?’

  ‘Only that he had the money. Since Connor came to stay, he always felt guilty if he went out. It wasn’t out of character, but he was odd. He told me he loved me Saturday and he hugged Connor so long on Sunday morning that we all felt uncomfortable. I thought he’d started on the beer early.’

  ‘You think he knew you were going to get kidnapped?’

  ‘No! Definitely not. He would never have put Connor through that. I think those bastards upped the stakes at the last minute. I don’t think he was ever supposed to jump, George. I think they took us and they told him what he had to do for us to be safe. And he did it.’ Sharon broke down again and wiped away thick tears with hands that shook. She steadied them enough to light another cigarette.

  ‘And you don’t know who these people are?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Who’s this lad that made first contact, Sharon?’

  ‘I can’t, George. You don’t talk about people round here to the cops.’

  ‘I need to know, Sharon.’

  ‘Bobby’s gone, George. Ain’t nothing bringing him back. We got played and we lost. I’m talking to the council about getting a move. I want out of here, out of this area and maybe we can have a life.’

  ‘There’s more to it. Bobby was part of a much bigger picture, Sharon. You need to understand that this isn’t just about you and him. When they snatched you from the street they did it as loud as possible so the police would throw every resource they could at it and they wouldn’t see that you weren’t the only people snatched from that town.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Another family was taken. Plucked from the streets. We don’t know how or when, Sharon, but you and Connor were a diversion. And we fell for it.’

  ‘They got someone else? Why?’

  ‘I don’t know yet. But they weren’t released like you, Sharon. And I don’t know how this ends unless you can help me find them. I need the name of your mate, the lad that came knocking on your door and started all this off. Do that, and I promise I won’t come after you for your part.’

  ‘I told you, I didn’t play no part!’

  ‘Knowing is playing, Sharon. And you aren’t the only person that stands to lose. Help me with the name.’

  ‘I’ve spent all the money. You can’t have that back.’

  ‘I don’t want your money. I just want a name.’

  ‘Damon — Jesus, Damon.’

  ‘Damon? Damon who?’

  ‘You know him. You all know him round here.’

  ‘Damon who Sharon? They might already be dead. Help me. Give them a chance.’

  ‘Alcott. Fucking hell, Damon Alcott.’

  George showed himself out.

  Chapter 16

  Emily Ryker was designated driver. Aleksander Nowak was led to the rear passenger seat by two uniformed officers. He had to stoop his wiry frame to fit in to the family hatchback. Detective Constable Nicola Anstis filled the front passenger seat with her day book ready and open; she had been briefed to act as scribe. Detective Sergeant Holly Saunders was already in the seat behind Anstis. Emily watched in her mirror as she smiled reassuringly at Aleksander. One of the officers passed her his seatbelt and she clipped it in.

  ‘Really? With these?’ Nowak held up his hands. They were still handcuffed in a ‘front stack’, one hand lying flat over the other with rigid metal keeping them apart.

  ‘Sorry, Aleksander, you’re still under arrest.’ The DS still held her reassuring smile. Emily didn’t know Saund
ers very well, but she had a reputation for being very thorough. A good investigator by all accounts, but who was only recently promoted to sergeant. ‘I can’t even imagine the paperwork if we managed to lose you.’

  ‘I do not want to be lost.’ Aleksander peered out of the window.

  ‘They’re not too bad, just try not to move too much in them.’

  The two uniformed officers moved to their marked vehicle. They rolled up to the speed gates to exit the station and Emily pulled the unmarked Vauxhall Astra up behind them.

  ‘We’ll wait for you just up the road.’ The transmission from the car in front came over the radio far too loud and Emily hurried to turn it down. They were working on their own talk-through channel so they could speak to each other easily.

  Emily pushed a dash-mounted button to reply. ‘Understood.’ She pulled through the gates and then came to a stop, watching the gate slide shut in her rear-view mirror. It was a new directive: in the modern world of terrorists targeting police officers, you had to watch the gates shut. It took just a few seconds and they were on their way.

  From Langthorne, the convoy of two headed for the A20, coast bound, where they would pass the port and come out the other side of the town of Dover. From there they took the A256 towards Thanet and the area where Nowak had been found walking down the hard shoulder, covered in his brother’s blood. No one knew quite what to say and conversation was stilted to the point where Emily turned the radio on to cut the atmosphere. The A256 got a lot slower as they passed a building site that was soon to be thousands of new-build houses. The road works were severe: a new roundabout was being installed to link directly to the new estate. They got clear of the road works, still in convoy. They’d had a brief conversation before leaving the station and one of the uniformed lads had suggested he might know the road Nowak had described. Emily followed the marked car as it took the slip road off where Richborough Power Station had once dominated the skyline. Now it was two piles of rubble and a husk of a building. The roads became more rural, with fields either side and woodland straight ahead. The marked car slowed for a road flagged by a dead-end sign. It curved gently into the woodland and Nowak suddenly became agitated. Even from her position watching him in the rear-view mirror, Emily knew they were at the right place.

  ‘We’ll drive it through first — make sure it’s clear of vehicles.’ The marked car ahead rolled into the road and was quickly out of sight. Their update came in less than a minute.

  ‘All clear.’ The marked car reappeared, facing them this time. Emily pulled past it into the road.

  ‘We’ll hold here and make sure nothing comes down.’

  Emily drove slowly. After just twenty metres, the marked car behind was hidden by the bend in the road.

  * * *

  In the marked police car, PC Dave Laughton laid back a little.

  ‘By the time the suits have done their dicking around down there and we hold their hands all the way back to the nick, it’ll be time to go off duty.’ He rested his knee against the centre console. ‘Yup. Another day closer to retirement.’

  PC Debbie Nicol grinned across from the driver’s seat. Dave noticed her narrowed eyes.

  ‘What?’ he said.

  ‘I reckon you’ll be disappointed to get this one done.’

  ‘Why on earth would I be disappointed?’

  ‘Well, without at least getting to know that doe-eyed intel officer a little more. What’s her name? Emma?’

  ‘Emily.’ Dave sat back up straight. He felt his cheeks warm a little.

  ‘Ah, Emily is it? Why don’t you ask her out? I don’t think she’s got anyone on the go at the moment.’

  ‘I’m not sure it’s the right time — you know, over the radio and her with a car full and all that.’

  ‘I don’t mean right now, you dick!’

  Dave saw a flash of movement first — behind Debbie — then he felt the impact behind him, enough to shove him hard in the back, his head forced so far forward it bounced off the handbrake. Dave managed to look up, his neck shot with pain, the whole side window was instantly filled with blue. Despite the pain, he was groggy, his vision hazy. Debbie’s scream cut through the haze. Dave was aware that his car was still shaking, the roof of the car banged. He turned to look through the windscreen just as it shattered inwards and something heavy bounced off the dash and crushed his hand. He yelped in pain. Boots appeared on the bonnet. A figure dropped to a kneel.

  ‘Alright, pigs!’ a man’s voice muffled by the black material pulled tight over his face. Debbie screamed again.

  ‘The FUCK?’ It was all Dave could manage.

  ‘You see that?’ The figure on the bonnet leant in and pointed to Debbie’s window. Dave followed the gesture. A large digital clock with an old-style font was counting down from fifteen minutes. It looked like it was suckered to the glass. ‘Move out of this vehicle before that gets to zero and you’re fucked. You understand? It’s rigged to something highly sensitive. You don’t want to be moving now, you hear me?’

  The man made exaggerated tip-toe movements down the bonnet of the marked car. He jumped backwards off the end like a showman enjoying his own performance. He raised his finger to his covered face like he was shooshing them. And then he was gone.

  * * *

  ‘Is there anything you recognise?’ DS Saunders asked Nowak. DC Anstis scribbled in her day book.

  ‘This is for sure where they brought us. It was darker, but the street light I saw at the start . . . this is for sure the right road.’

  ‘Okay. Do you remember how far in you were?’

  ‘The bend finishes and you can see far. We were a little way along.’

  Emily slowed further as the bend did indeed straighten out. In the distance she could now see a hedgerow that marked the end of the road, beyond that the tall street lights and gantries of a main ‘A’ road were visible.

  Nowak was animated suddenly. ‘Can we stop?’

  Emily let the car roll to a stop with the engine ticking over.

  ‘We hit hard. There will be a tree with marks at least. This side.’ Nowak pointed to the woodland on the near side. Ryker rolled forward a little until they came to an area around two thirds along the straight where the bank was a little churned up. The ground looked disturbed — not as much to suggest that a car had left the road and ploughed into the woodland, but the foliage just looked out of place. A mature tree stood a few metres from the road, its lower trunk shrouded by a dense bush. Emily stepped out and walked over to the tree. As she got closer, she could see that it didn’t look right, the bush had been cut; this wasn’t the spot where it had spent its life. Somebody had cut it and moved it here. She pulled away to reveal a fresh, ugly scar gouged deep into the tree.

  She stepped back to the car where the DS looked questioningly out through the rear window. She wouldn’t be able to open the door from the inside — standard on police cars. Emily pulled it open.

  ‘This is it. Someone’s made a token effort to hide it, but—’

  ‘Stay where you are! Don’t you fucking move!’ Emily turned to the sound of the gruff voice and was immediately struck hard in the face. The force pushed her back against the car and she lost her footing. In her confusion she was aware of the rear door being slammed back shut and movement from the other side of the vehicle. Someone stood over her.

  ‘Don’t you fucking move, bitch!’ Her vision cleared enough to see the outline of a man dressed all in black, his face covered.

  ‘Stay here for fifteen minutes. If you are seen to move in the next fifteen minutes we will be back and we’ll make sure you don’t move again. You understand?’

  Emily jerked a nod.

  ‘Fifteen minutes! And count yourself fucking lucky.’

  The man was gone. Emily managed to push herself to a sitting position, her back against the front passenger door. She could feel the car rock as someone inside moved, a door creaked from the other side of the car. She struggled to her knees, looked down the roa
d towards the dead end where what looked like two males dressed in black walked either side of Nowak. A few more seconds and all three plunged left into the woodland. And they were gone.

  ‘The radio! The fucking radio’s not working!’ DC Anstis threw her handheld radio back onto the driver’s seat and pulled out her phone. ‘Nothing’s working!’

  Emily managed to stand. She tried her own phone — no service.

  ‘What do we do?’ DC Anstis looked from Emily to her sergeant, her eyes wide and her breathing shallow. Emily looked at her watch. It was ten past two in the afternoon. She felt a calmness that belied their situation.

  ‘Wait fourteen minutes. Then walk to find help.’

  * * *

  It was ten minutes later that help came to them. Emily saw the officer who had introduced himself as Dave limp into sight. DS Saunders jogged to meet him.

  ‘You okay?’ He looked directly at Emily who was holding a piece of gauze against her eyebrow. It had been bleeding intermittently. She took the pressure away and checked. It came away clean.

  ‘Yeah, we’re okay. We lost Nowak.’

  ‘Jesus. We never stood a chance up there. Two 4x4s just rammed us, blocked us in both sides. They put some countdown timer up. None of our radios are working.

  ‘Countdown timer?’

  ‘Yeah, they said it was rigged. It isn’t. They just wanted to slow us down. They must have a car nearby. Their trucks are still up there. I got a phone signal half way to you and called out the cavalry. Everyone’s on their way.’

  ‘I bet. They’ll be long gone by now.’

  ‘We’ve got a lot of explaining to do.’ Dave shook his head. He was clearly suffering the effects of shock.

  ‘You just explained it perfectly to me,’ Emily said. ‘We’ve all got families to go home to. There’s nothing we could have done differently.’