Missing

by Charlie Gallagher

  ‘Yes. But he is known in cocaine. He is Mr Cocaine! The very finest. He wants to be the same for heroin. It is a good business plan. When you are the best you charge most. And people will pay.’

  ‘So his is purer?’

  ‘No. There was no heroin on that lorry, there was just cutting. Fentanyl.’ Nowak had a wide grin. ‘This is something special.’

  ‘Fentanyl? As a cutting agent?’

  ‘This is right.’

  ‘That’s pain medication, right?’

  ‘One hundred times stronger than morphine. This is not for the amateur. You dying of cancer, this is the last thing for the pain. Regular users will pay for this and they will pay good.’

  ‘So it’s just a stronger hit?’

  ‘This is like no other hit. It is known, the first heroin hit is like nothing else. The best, the most amazing. They spend their whole life trying to get that again. They won’t, this is not possible, the body has resistance. Fentanyl takes them back to their first hit and it will do it time and time again. People pay good for this. This is what they want.’

  ‘Those that don’t die.’

  ‘This is very bad. Lots of people die. Some taking this for the first time die. This is very bad. Many overdosing. Many die in making it too.’

  ‘Making?’

  ‘It is a powder mainly. A white powder. Very dangerous. This powder on your skin soaks through and you can overdose. I have seen this.’

  ‘So how much fentanyl did you have with you in that lorry?’

  ‘As much as they could! This can wipe out England yes! And the man, he buys this for a lot less than heroin. He can cut it, little heroin, a little fentanyl — best hit of your life. A very rich man.’

  ‘So that was the reason for getting the lorry through.’

  ‘Yes. He has tried before. He has many lorries being stopped recently, this has not happened before. He knows he has a problem — somebody talking maybe. He is very paranoid. He loses money like this.’

  ‘Is that what he thinks you did?’

  ‘No. I was doing similar business in Poland. I came to England to sell to Polish people — there is a lot more money here for buying. He asked me to work for him so he could sell to Polish people. I stole his money and some of the cocaine to take home. Enough so I could be big there. I also took some spice. This is big here, not so much in Poland.

  ‘Spice?’

  ‘Man made. This is plant food! It is very bad. Sometimes it is very good, but it can give you a very bad time. He does not do this now. He cannot make the best of this.’

  ‘How much money did you take from him?’

  ‘Five hundred thousand euros maybe. As much as he makes in a week. I saw the amounts of money. I thought he would write me off as bad debt but he is not someone to cross. He is proud. He came for me hard. He knows that he needs to make an example.’

  ‘Two birds with one stone. You and the drugs.’

  Nowak nodded. ‘Two birds.’

  ‘Jeez.’

  ‘I need go shit.’ Nowak pressed a light switch for the bathroom. A noisy fan accompanied it.

  Shaun stepped quickly past Nowak and into the bathroom. There was a small bath with an electric shower on one side, a white toilet with a worn seat on the other that backed into a raised bench under a mirror. On the bench was just a plastic beaker with what looked like serviettes — not even a complimentary soap. Nothing that could cause him any problems.

  ‘Go ahead,’ Shaun said, stepping back out. Nowak closed the bathroom door behind him.

  Shaun pulled the rig out from his bag. He switched it to on and slid the all-in-one power pack and transmitter deftly into his back pocket. He had wrapped the microphone tightly; he couldn’t be sure it wasn’t transmitting permanently and this limited the chance of being constantly overheard. He unwrapped it and clipped it back into place. The earpiece was already whooshing. He sent a text to the only saved number that said simply: ON.

  He turned his attention to the box. The paper cover ripped off easily. It was indeed a shoebox underneath, green with Clarks written in black lettering. He lifted the lid and took a sharp breath. His eyes fell first on the black handgun. An ugly thing, extended in length by what he recognised from movies as a silencer. Shaun had never liked firearms. Never understood those that did. He always said that nothing good had ever come from firing a weapon. The box also contained a black mobile phone. It was an identical Nokia, the type known as a ‘burn phone’ among the kids out selling drugs. He tipped out the other contents of the box. There was a flat piece of plastic he recognised as a replacement battery for his wire and a vacuum-sealed see-through bag containing what looked like three pairs of blue nylon gloves — the sort used at crime scenes, a soft bag, a cloth like you’d clean glass with and a roll of Gorilla tape. His earpiece crackled suddenly into life.

  ‘You made it, Shaun.’

  ‘I did.’ Shaun’s voice broke. Every time he heard this voice in his ear he wanted to break down, to beg for it all to stop.

  ‘And you have our friend.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I appreciate that. It was a little unexpected that we would ask that of you, Shaun, but you did very well to adapt.’

  ‘So I get my family back?’

  ‘This was not meant to be my use for you, Shaun. This task still needs to be completed. Unfortunately, Mr Nowak decided to inconvenience us all. Mr Nowak will not be a problem for much longer, then there is a small task for you to complete and you have my word that your family will then be returned. I really do appreciate your efforts, Shaun. You are proving to be both resourceful and reliable.’

  ‘What other task?’

  ‘First you need to finish the Nowak issue.’

  ‘Finish? I got him here, I can walk out now and lock him in. He’s yours. You told me to get him here.’

  ‘I don’t want him, Shaun. Not alive.’

  Shaun’s eyes flicked back to the pistol. He knew what it was for.

  ‘What you do with him is down to you. I brought him here — that was my task.’

  ‘The weapon in the box is loaded. Be careful with it, Shaun. Nowak needs to die and then you need to leave. Do it now, Shaun.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous! I can’t kill a man.’

  ‘Do it now, Shaun. You don’t want to say no to me again.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Are you saying no?’

  ‘I can’t kill a man! Jesus! This wasn’t the deal . . .’ Shaun picked up the weapon. He held it in a loose grip then threw it back on the bed in disgust.

  ‘Do you have your police radio on you, Shaun?’

  ‘Yes, why?’

  ‘Turn it on. We are just crossing the motorway, a flyover near Dover. We were bringing your family closer, Shaun. They are with me here. Turn on the channel that covers that area.’

  ‘Why? Can I speak to them? Please!’

  ‘Last chance, Shaun. Nowak needs to die. Yes or no?’

  Shaun stared at the ugly weapon. ‘Can I speak to my family? To my boy?’

  ‘Are you dealing with Nowak? Yes or no?’

  ‘I can’t kill a man.’ Shaun pleaded.

  His earpiece changed tone to the one he had come to recognise when communication had been cut.

  Shaun heard a flushing sound. He quickly flicked the duvet over to cover the box and its contents. He retrieved the radio from his bag and turned the volume up. It was already monitoring the local area.

  ‘You okay? You look worried?’

  Shaun stared intently at his radio, he made no reply to Nowak who paced to the free bed. He lay down and kicked his legs up.

  An update by an officer was interrupted suddenly, an excited call handler.

  ‘Any Zulu patrol able to attend the M20 near the flyover to Hougham on the outskirts of Dover for an immediate call please? We have reports of someone going off the bridge into live traffic there.’

  Voices replied immediately to confirm that they were attending. Nowak looked over, hi
s interest spiked by the reports. Shaun turned to the window to hide his own reaction, his chest so tight he felt like he would never breathe again.

  ‘Sounds bad.’ Nowak offered.

  Shaun didn’t reply, couldn’t reply. He heard bedsprings and half turned. Nowak was scooping up the remote and Shaun faced back to the window. The television clicked on.

  The buzz in his earpiece changed. The voice returned, ‘Listen to your radio, Shaun. Remember who’s in control here and why.’

  Shaun’s eyes clamped shut at the sound of the voice. As impossible as it seemed, he still had some hope that the report on the radio wasn’t linked — that it was all just a coincidence. The voice coming back confirmed that this was all for him.

  ‘Mr Nowak?’ Shaun managed, ‘can you turn that television down a little. I’m just listening to the radio.’

  ‘Sure.’

  The volume dropped.

  ‘So he’s there with you,’ the voice through the earpiece was suddenly gleeful. ‘You can just listen, then, Shaun. Your ex-wife suffered for your refusal. Your boy does not need to do the same. I think you understand what I mean?’

  Shaun opened his eyes. Suddenly they felt sensitive to the white light of the window. He heard confirmation on the radio of the first patrol arriving at the scene. They confirmed that a female had fallen into the live carriageway and been struck by a lorry. In a shocked voice the officer asked for more patrols. He sounded breathless and distraught. ‘It’s a mess, Control.’

  Shaun leant on the windowsill for support. He fought back a sob, He could feel his heart thumping, it beat behind his temple. This had all got out of hand.

  ‘You need to deal with Nowak and you need to deal with him now.’ The voice was back, keeping on the pressure. ‘Yes or no, Shaun? I only ask once.’

  ‘Yes,’ Shaun muttered.

  ‘You speak?’ Nowak called out.

  ‘Yes,’ Shaun said stronger. He spun quickly. He tugged the duvet so that it fell back to reveal the pistol. He scooped it up. Nowak was just a blur to him as he lifted the weapon and pointed. Shaun pulled the trigger three times in rapid succession. He was screaming out his frustration and his fury as he did it.

  Shaun’s eyes focused. Nowak was bleeding heavily from his chest. He was still on the bed, his eyes wide, his mouth opening and closing, fighting for a breath that wouldn’t come.

  ‘Sounds like you made the right choice, Shaun. There is a camera on the phone. Take a picture of Nowak and send it. Do it now. Then you need to move. Leave the old phone there. Turn your radio and your own phone off for now. You can be tracked on that. If they find you, this is all over. I will have someone clean your room. You don’t need to be told what will happen if we do not find a dead Nowak.’

  Shaun dropped the weapon and his hands lifted to cover his mouth.

  The hiss in the earpiece changed to its flat tone. Shaun was on his own.

  Chapter 20

  A McDonald’s drive-thru. Not a good place, too public. Shaun knew it the second the automatic doors parted and he nearly collided with a heavily tattooed man in work trousers and tool belt who was coming out. Shaun started and this shook him out of his daze. He kept his head down, mumbled an apology and slalomed through the bustling interior to the toilets. He’d left the hotel in a panic, got back to the car and driven blindly. He just needed to get away from that room and what he had left there. He had seen the McDonald’s sign at an industrial estate at the top end of the town where he had intended to join the motorway. The urge to get away was suddenly replaced with the urge to scrub his hands. He scrubbed them hard, the water as hot as he could bear. The eyes that stared back at him in the mirror were exhausted and terrified at the same time — what had he done?

  A phone vibrated in his pocket and he flinched as if from an electric shock. He had turned his own phone and his police radio off. This only left the phone he had found in the shoebox. Still switched on. He plunged a soaking wet hand into his pocket. It was a text message.

  CALL THIS NUMBER AT 1430.

  Shaun checked his watch. He had twenty minutes. He didn’t want to be here to make the call, he knew what they could do with phone work — making a call was as good as putting a digital pin on a map. Finally, he was starting to think straight again.

  He left the toilets, his face still dripped where he had splashed some cold water. His stomach now ached for food, set off by the smells. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten, but it was probably more than twenty-four hours. He hurried back to his car with a burger meal and a well-sugared coffee to try and boost his energy levels. He discarded the food on the passenger seat and pulled out into the traffic.

  The village of Hougham was a ten-minute drive, its elevated position made it the perfect choice for phone companies looking to put up a transmitter to service the area. Shaun pulled up as close as he could, just a few metres from where one of the steel cables reached up from a huge concrete slab, one of four anchoring the giant phone mast against the elements. He demolished his burger meal before making the call. He had recently been involved in looking for a missing person on a cliff top. The police had pinged the phone to try and get an idea of his position and it had come back as pinging from the base of this very mast. The officer leading the search had immediately dismissed the result. ‘Happens every now and then,’ he had said. ‘It’s an anomaly. That phone could be anywhere in five square miles of that mast — maybe even further. If it doesn’t get a result it just shows the source of the signal as being the mast.’ Shaun didn’t think there would be a manhunt for him just yet, or that this number would be known, but he couldn’t take the risk.

  ‘Right on time, Shaun.’

  ‘I’ve done everything you’ve asked, when you’ve asked. You’ve no reason to hold my family any longer.’

  ‘Steady on there, Shaun. Our Polish friend was a bit of a bonus — a little unforeseen. But he was not the reason you were chosen. I still have a task for you. It’s very simple. Then you get your family back — just like Bobby Leonard did.’

  ‘I might not be able to do anything soon. Now there’s a body in a hotel room it won’t take them long to work out I walked in with him. Then I’m no use to you at all.’

  ‘I told you I would sort that. But you do need to move fast. You’ve managed to carry out the perfect kill, Shaun. You’re actually quite good at this!’

  ‘Fuck you! A man died, I took his life and you’re making jokes.’

  ‘That’s police mentality coming through, Shaun. Don’t start losing sleep over removing that man from existence. I can assure you it won’t be much of a loss to humanity.’

  ‘And what about you? Jesus Christ, you murdered Carol! Threw her off a bridge like she was a piece of rubbish. And kidnapping a ten-year-old boy? These are innocent people. They did nothing to deserve this.’

  ‘I stopped worrying a long time ago about my soul, Shaun. I know where I’m going when this is all over. You get to the point where it’s too late, where you need to focus on getting what you want and putting off eternity for as long as possible. All that matters to you is that I am a man of my word. Do as you are asked and you get your boy back.’

  ‘What more could you need?’

  ‘A swap. A simple swap.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Someone works with your girlfriend that is causing me a lot of problems, Shaun. I need to know who that is and I need them to be delivered to me.’

  ‘Delivered to you? What are you talking about? I can’t just go picking people up and dropping them off for a damned madman. What person?’

  ‘That’s another part of the puzzle you see. You assisted me with getting a lorry through the port of Dover yesterday, but this is the first I have been able to get through for nearly three months. I have made numerous attempts in that time, but everyone has been stopped and searched and the cargo found. I accept the risk that there will be stops, that you can’t always be sure of getting through, but for all of them to
be stopped? I have a leak, Shaun — someone who has knowledge of my operation who is happy to share this knowledge with various aspects of law enforcement. Your girlfriend was the obvious choice. We built a lot of information around her, spent a lot of time watching her, planning our moment. All that did was confirm that she wasn’t the source. All was not lost, however, it became pretty obvious that you were the better candidate. You could assist with getting what I needed through and with the added bonus of ensuring the lorry could move freely on the mainland. Now we need you to use your link with the port to find out who is the cause of stopping my cargo.’

  ‘You mean your drugs.’

  ‘Who cares. You certainly shouldn’t. Just understand the lengths I have gone to for this information. Don’t think for one second I wouldn’t go further, Shaun.’

  ‘I don’t know what happens down there. I don’t know who’s stopping your damned lorries.’

  ‘Jessica Norris does. You will need to get the information from her. And once you do, you will need to isolate this individual and deliver them to me. In exchange for your son, Shaun — just in case you were forgetting what is at stake here.’

  ‘Then what? What do you do to this person?’

  ‘What do you care? But if you don’t deliver it will be your boy instead. I suggest you do as you are told. Call me on this number when you have what I need. And not before.’

  * * *

  George had seen a number of incident rooms before. They were an ever-evolving animal: chaotic, tense and exciting at the ‘golden hour’ stage, then staid, tense and often tedious in the many months that could follow. This incident room was still very much in chaos. He and Ryker swerved past the numerous bodies and through the excited chatter to get to the door marked Chief Inspector J. Whittaker. George knocked and entered.

  John Whittaker was sat at a cluttered desk, papers strewn over his keyboard. The wall behind him had a whiteboard with hurried notes in black marker, some crossed through, some half rubbed out. Whittaker gave a tired looking smile over a ringing phone. He reached out and turned the ringer down.

  ‘George, old friend, if this is work related I genuinely don’t give a damn. I’m sure you don’t mind me saying.’