Missing

by Charlie Gallagher

  ‘I’m not sure the bosses will have the same idea.’

  DS Saunders was in her own state of shock, she was mumbling, repeating herself. ‘How could they have known? There was no way anyone could have even known we were coming here . . .’

  ‘We don’t need to worry about that right now. We’re all okay, that’s all that matters. Dave said the cavalry was on the way. We wait and then we can start working out what the fuck just happened.’

  Chapter 17

  When the cavalry did arrive, George Elms was part of it. He had heard the breathless shout over the radio and he knew Ryker was part of the away party. By the time a second update stated that she had been injured, he was already on his way.

  He had been in the station at the time of the shout, finding out as much as he could about Damon Alcott. He had tried getting hold of Shaun — he reckoned that he could be very useful in finding Alcott and helping to convince him to talk — but his phone was going straight to voicemail. Whatever. That could wait until later.

  George had taken one of Major Crime’s unmarked vehicles: a black Skoda VRS with concealed lights in the grill. He drove like a madman on lights and sirens, and he was the first from Langthorne House to make it to the scene. A police dog van that had been in the area was there already, along with a patrol that had turned out from Sandwich. He was aware of the whine of a helicopter overhead as he stepped out of the car.

  The uniformed officers present would be expecting detectives to be deployed, and they would expect them to take over the investigation as soon as they arrived. George took advantage of this, barking questions and getting quick-fire replies to the point where he was up to date by the time he made it to where Ryker was sitting on the ground, leaning against the bonnet of the dog van.

  ‘Hell’s teeth, Ryker, they said on air that you were injured but I couldn’t get in to ask for an update.’

  ‘Somebody hit me, George.’

  The point of impact was obvious. There was clear swelling above Ryker’s right eye and an angry red split that would probably scar. She was padding the swelling gingerly.

  ‘So I see.’

  ‘Me though, George! You hear of officers getting assaulted all the time. It’s terrible it is. A right liberty. But I don’t get hit, George. I made that quite clear when I started out on this career — I’m too fucking good looking to get hit.’

  ‘You won’t find me arguing.’

  ‘I should hope not.’

  ‘Not because I agree, but because you’re angry, Ryker. And I don’t like you when you’re angry.’

  ‘I am angry George. I got hit.’

  ‘I wouldn’t take it to heart. At least you got hit by professionals.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Ryker’s expression was more serious.

  ‘Looks like it was a simultaneous hit on both vehicles. They threw jammers under both the cars to stop your radios working. They blocked uniform in with two cars that were nicked in the early hours of this morning and they left on foot. At least until they got to another vehicle. They didn’t give us much to go on, Ryker.’

  ‘How did they know what we were doing though? The ride out was deliberately low key.’

  ‘Knowing that is the key to finding who hit you, Ryker. There won’t be anything here.’

  Ryker narrowed her eyes. ‘Is there something you’re not telling me, George.’

  ‘There’s always something I’m not telling you. You want me to drive you back?’

  ‘Fuck yeah. The longer I stand here, the more chance I have of being swabbed.’

  Once in the car, George paused before starting the car. ‘You’re okay though? I mean, it can’t have been nice. That might need a staple in it too?’

  ‘Are you being caring, George Elms?’

  ‘You know I care about you, Ryker.’

  Ryker shrugged. ‘Shit day, George. They’ll get theirs. We’ve got other people to find first. I take it Shaun hasn’t had any contact?’

  ‘Not that he’s made me aware of.’

  George pulled back onto the A256. Twenty minutes later they still hadn’t made it past the roadworks. George turned on the aircon as the sun burst through the cloud cover to beat at them through the windscreen. They were monitoring the police channel on the radio where the hunt for the people that had taken Nowak was continuing. Two detectives gave an update regarding the vehicles used to block in the police car. Both were stolen from a garage that had a stock of around forty cars; it was on the border where Langthorne met with Sussex. It had been a ‘car-key burglary’, the thieves forcing entry to the sales office to get the car keys. The update finished with a dreary line about the garage’s CCTV system being ‘hit and miss’ and out of action at the material time. Ryker was staring out of the window.

  ‘Fancy a diversion?’ George said.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘A diversion. You fancy a quick chat about those stolen vehicles?’ George gestured at the radio.

  ‘Sorry, George, I was only half listening. They were nicked from a garage, right?’

  ‘Yeah. We should go and talk to the poor victim.’

  ‘Major Crime just did that right? I told you I’m fine. This can wait another day. We need to get back looking for Shaun’s wife and kid. They could get in touch any time.’

  ‘You’re right. So we don’t have any time to waste.’ George flicked on the lights and siren for a second time that day. ‘Do me a favour would you, Ryker? Give your intel office a call and see what we know about the owner of this garage.’

  Ryker shook her head but did nothing to argue.

  * * *

  ‘Roland Merrington Auto’s.’ George read the livery clinging to what had once probably been the canopy for a petrol station forecourt. It had that look, a large square structure on struts with a glass-fronted office at the back. The pumps were gone, replaced by lines of shiny cars parked in rows and at jaunty angles. It was off a busy road that ran all the way through to Hastings and onwards and was prime for passing trade. George parked in one of the visitor bays. A stocky man in a suit and day-old stubble was on him and smiling before he’d shut the door. He looked the Skoda up and down and then did the same to George.

  ‘Good afternoon, sir. How are you today?’

  ‘Very well, thank you.’

  ‘What can we help you with, sir?’

  ‘I was hoping to speak to Roland.’

  The man’s smile dropped a little, but he recovered it quickly. ‘He’s not always on site. He lets me deal with matters most of the time. Are you sure there’s nothing I can help you with?’

  ‘Is he on site now?’ George flipped over his warrant card. The man’s eyes flicked from George to Ryker who was also holding her warrant up.

  ‘He’s in the office.’ The man turned sharply and walked away.

  Roland Merrington was a big man. He wore his trousers pulled high over his rotund waist and held in place by a set of braces. His tie hung loose, his shirt undone to facilitate his chin. He stood up to greet George as he walked in, but his smile dropped away as George introduced himself as a detective sergeant.

  ‘I’ve spoken to you lot already.’ Merrington fell back into his plush swivel chair and rocked back, steepling his fingers.

  ‘I know that, Mr Merrington.’

  ‘So why come back?’

  George gestured at two seats that were tucked under his side of the desk. ‘Do you mind?’

  ‘Go ahead, if you’re staying. Call me Roland.’

  George and Ryker each pulled out a chair and sat down.

  ‘So what more do you need? Your colleagues felt that there wasn’t much more I could offer. I got my crime reference number, too. I just got off the phone to the insurance company.’

  ‘What was taken?’

  ‘You don’t know?’ Merrington suddenly appeared flustered. ‘Your colleagues knew the makes, reg numbers, the lot. All the stuff I gave over the phone. Why are you here now if you don’t even know what this is all about?’


  George studied Merrington closely. ‘My colleagues knew about the vehicles and about the incident earlier this afternoon, but they didn’t know about you . . . Roland. I’ve been doing this job a long time and I like to look at the victims first. I like to try and understand the motivation. Sometimes victims are chosen. If I can understand the reason why, I’m a lot closer to finding the culprit.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Merrington’s cheeks flushed a deeper red. ‘In the early hours of the morning, some chancers nicked two of my trucks. They broke in here and they took the keys and then the trucks. Your colleagues tell me they were used in some sort of ram raid or something. I’m a victim because I had two trucks. They were probably out looking for them and there they were, sat at the front of my place.’

  George turned to take in the forecourt. ‘They were out the front?’

  ‘Yeah. On the grass by the road. They were my prime draws, the first cars you’d see.’

  ‘At the end of March? I saw an Audi TT out there, two of those little Mazda sports cars and a BMW Z4. All convertibles. Surely they’re a better bet for your passing trade starting to think about the summer. Am I right?’

  ‘I rotate them — move them around a little. People might be looking for a bargain on a 4x4 because it’s spring.’

  ‘And your CCTV wasn’t working?’

  ‘No. I mean it does — it’s intermittent.’

  ‘But it wasn’t working last night?’

  ‘It’s been down the last seven days.’

  ‘Exactly?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Seven days exactly?’

  ‘I don’t know if it’s exactly, I—’

  ‘Can we check?’ George pointed at a monitor stood on top of a black box marked Lenovo. ‘That’s the system, right?’

  Merrington had to shift around to see it behind him. ‘Yeah, that’s it, I don’t really know how to work it so good—’

  ‘I do. Doing this job, I use these systems all the time. You’ve probably set it to run constant during the day and then it’s just motion activated at night, right? So it doesn’t fill up the hard drive.’

  ‘Yeah, I think I d—’

  ‘And if it does get full up it starts overwriting itself. You’ll probably get about a month back. But you can free up space. Do you know how you do that?’

  ‘I don’t think I’ve ever—’

  ‘You just select to delete a seven-day block. It’s easy. It only deletes in seven-day blocks, see? Most people would get rid of the oldest week, but you could wipe the last seven days, almost at the touch of a button.’

  Merrington took a second to reply. ‘Are you suggesting I deleted my own— ’

  ‘How do you know Shaun Carter?’

  ‘Shaun? I don’t. I—’

  ‘You’ll note the way I worded the question, Roland. I know you do. I also know how you do. So this is the bit where I determine for certain if you are lying to me or not.’

  Roland reached for a tissue and dabbed at a run of sweat. He rocked forward in his seat and straightened a pen on his desk.

  ‘I know his dad. Or I knew him, I should say, a long time ago.’

  ‘We’re getting somewhere now, Roland. Now I do know something my colleagues that were here earlier don’t. Now, still assuming that I already know the answer, tell me what happened this morning.’ George met Ryker’s stare briefly. Neither spoke.

  Merrington sat back and expelled a long breath. ‘He’s a good kid, you know — just like his dad. The last person I ever expected to turn up and tell me that he was in trouble — that he needed my help. He was here before eight o’clock. I was here early — I always am. He had cash. Said he wanted to use the trucks. He didn’t have enough to buy them but he said I had to report them nicked anyway and I could do the insurance money. He begged me, Sergeant. I mean begged. I know a desperate man when I see one, and whatever trouble Shaun’s in, it’s deep. I locked the office up and he got in with a wrecking bar from the garage and broke the safe to get the keys so it would look like a burglary.’

  ‘And he didn’t tell you why?’

  ‘Nothing. He just said that I had to give him twenty minutes and then make the call to your lot. We stuck some different plates on them — just stuck them over the existing ones. I didn’t ask too many questions. I know what he does for a living. I know he’s one of your lot, so I guess I kinda thought whatever it was he was up to, it might be for the good, you know? I didn’t know what to think. A kid turns up like that, someone I used to know and begs for my help. I just did what he asked.’

  ‘Was he on his own?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘And he left on his own, did he?’

  ‘He must have.’

  ‘In three cars? Come on, Roland. You need to do better.’

  ‘Fuck, I don’t know. I’m not on the block here, I just helped out a mate!’

  ‘For cash, Roland. Your mate out there with the cheap suit didn’t give him a hand then? Maybe for his own share?’

  ‘He don’t know nothing about it.’

  ‘Where’s he gone?’

  ‘I don’t know . . .’ Merrington dabbed at his face again. ‘Has he gone? He does have some errands to run this morning.’

  ‘I’m sure he does. He doesn’t like police, does he? You can give me his details and maybe I’ll find out why.’

  ‘Your mates spoke to him already. If he told them, he told them. I don’t know much about him.’

  ‘They did speak to him, and to two other employees. One who said he was your mechanic and the other called himself a valet. Neither of them were too friendly, Roland. They don’t like the police much either? Why might that be?’

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t know much about them outside of here — none of them.’

  ‘I’m sure you don’t. They just work for you. If that’s the case I’ll have someone I know go through your books and tax returns. Literally brushes his hair with a fine-tooth comb. Wears glasses and everything.’

  ‘Fucking hell! I’m not the criminal here! I was just minding my own—’

  ‘And the other car Shaun took. I’ll need the details of that.’

  ‘There weren’t no other car.’

  ‘You’re doing well, Roland. Don’t lie to me now. I have the ability to ruin your day.’

  ‘I don’t know nothing about no other car!’

  George sighed and stood. ‘Roland Merrington, you are under arrest for fraud by false representation. You do not have to say anything—’

  ‘An old Vectra. Silver! Fuck, it was just about the shittiest thing I had — he didn’t have no money left.’

  ‘Where are the documents?’

  ‘He took them in the car. That was legit, I didn’t report that one.’

  ‘Of course not. That was his getaway car, Roland. What sort of person does something for the good and needs a getaway car? You think about that. I really should take you in, you know. The registration number?’

  ‘God dammit.’ Roland tugged a hardback A4 book from a drawer. ‘Every car I ever had,’ he mumbled. He scanned the pages, scrawled something on a post-it and handed it to George.

  ‘And this is the number plate it left with? You didn’t mess with this one?’

  ‘No. There wasn’t the need. Look, I ain’t bothered about no insurance money, I’ll call them back and tell them.’

  George stood. Ryker did the same. ‘Do what you think is right, Roland. We weren’t here for you. Or your employees.’ George said.

  Ryker stared straight ahead as they made it back into the Skoda.

  ‘So Shaun hit me?’

  ‘Probably not. He wouldn’t want to risk being recognised. He probably just drove the getaway car.’

  ‘How did you know the link with Shaun in there? What’s going on?’

  ‘I didn’t, Ryker. Not for sure. It just didn’t feel right to me. I couldn’t get hold of Shaun and that assault on you all was too perfect. All our cars are tracked. If you had access to
that system, knowledge of jamming radios and could listen in to communication between the two cars you could carry off that snatch with perfection. Without any one of those things it wasn’t even doable.’

  ‘So it had to be a copper.’

  ‘And one with a motivation to get hold of Nowak. Shaun lived in Sussex for a while, too, before he transferred to Langthorne. Then we got lucky in that fat boy in there doesn’t perform well under a bit of pressure.’

  ‘So what does Shaun do now?’

  ‘I don’t know for sure. But I think he’s got himself his own Plan B.’

  ‘We need to find him.’

  ‘Because he hit you?’

  ‘Because he’s going to get himself killed.’

  ‘Do me a favour . . . Call the PNC bureau and get the Vectra’s details uploaded to the ANPR hotlist. But I don’t want it broadcast if it pings, I want us to know and nobody else. I can’t run the risk of it being stopped. And try and get an idea where’s it been pinging in the last 24 hours.’

  ‘I’ll use my intel excuses. We can put a silent marker on it. I can review the ANPR hits back at the office.’

  ‘You can, but I plan another diversion. You fancy going to see a drug dealer?’

  ‘Hell, yeah! You really know how to treat a lady . . .’

  Chapter 18

  Midday. Shaun had turned on the earpiece ten minutes before, as instructed. He wasn’t sure what the battery life was like for the equipment he had been given. It looked much slicker than the set he had used for covert operations. The earpiece was Bluetooth, the battery pack and the radio itself all one slim piece of plastic. The channel was a digital display: a black four against a green background.

  Right on time, a small light flashed on the top of the radio unit. His earpiece whooshed then a voice came as clear as a smartphone call.

  ‘It’s midday, Shaun. It’s been quite a time, right?’ A male voice, a little older than him perhaps. Well-spoken — a slight cockney accent maybe? But then so many people were imitating Londoners these days that he couldn’t be sure.

  ‘What do you want from me?’