Captured

by Johansen, Tina

  “Hey man, come inside. Sorry about your girlfriend. Nice girl.”

  “Ex,” Neil corrected, looking around. The front door opened straight into a large open-plan living room. The glass coffee table was spread with mobile phones, two laptops and a tangle of wires. “Any developments since we spoke?”

  “Nada. What do you want to do big guy?”

  Neil sat down on one of the white leather couches and exhaled loudly. He glanced at Simon for an instant before turning to Mike, who was flanked by two other men, neither of whom Neil had met before. “I don’t know. We’ve moved out of my area of expertise.”

  One of Mike’s acquaintances stepped forward. “Neil. Mike tells me you’ve helped him out a lot in the past. I’m Paul.” Paul was a giant; taller than Neil by almost a head. He wore a close-fitting black t-shirt, which drew attention to his bulging muscles and grey combat trousers. If it wasn’t for his hair, Neil would have put him down as a mercenary. Messy light brown waves escaped from his ponytail and fringed his face. It was an incongruous sight, and made him look more comical than menacing.

  Mike raised his eyebrows, gesturing his head towards Paul, as if to say ‘see?’

  Paul continued. “Mike called me yesterday and filled me in on your situation. I’m happy to help.”

  “Paul and Aaron here have been down to your apartment building and had a look around. Security’s pretty lax,” Mike said. “You said you don’t want to involve the police. So I think we should get down there as soon as possible. How well do you know this guy? How many people do you figure he has working for him?”

  Neil nodded his agreement and looked to Simon to answer.

  Simon cleared his throat and looked around the room. “I’ve known him for years. I wouldn’t put anything past him. He’s–” He spoke hesitantly and looked at the corner of the room, as if he was struggling to find the right words. The four men waited. “He’s unpredictable. I wouldn’t put anything past him. And he’s rich. And used to getting what he wants.”

  Aaron, not as tall as Paul, but similarly bulky, looked at Mike impatiently. He was dressed more formally, in a straining blue-striped shirt and beige chinos. Mike didn’t respond, either pretending not to notice or absorbed by Simon’s answer.

  “Well, we’ve had someone watching the building for nearly twenty four hours now, and they haven’t seen anyone enter or leave,” Aaron cut in.

  Mike listened to him, nodding. “You want to get this over with then?”

  Neil nodded. “Let’s go.”

  The apartment building was just over a mile from the one where they had met Mike. They crammed in the lift and descended to the basement car park. Paul and Aaron walked ahead, simultaneously opening the driver doors of two gleaming black SUVs. Mike gestured Simon and Lennox into Paul’s vehicle.

  When they had driven through the gate and onto the street above, Neil leaned forward. “Where did you get these guys?” he murmured to the headrest in front of him.

  Paul was focussed on the gridlocked traffic in front of them, seemingly not listening. Mike turned around as much as his seatbelt would allow and inclined his head further to the right. “I’m surprised you have to ask Lennox. Let’s just say I’ve met a very diverse group of people since I left the insurance company and went freelance. It’s worked out in your favour, no?”

  Lennox smiled. “Definitely. I really appreciate this, Mike. It would have been much riskier if it was just me and Simon here.”

  Mike laughed. “Thank me later. Now. There are two guys at the building already. One in front watching the main entrance, and one in back watching the fire stairs. I know that makes a lot of us, but I’m not – and I can see that your friend’s not – much of an action man.”

  “So we gotta aim for the element of surprise, Aaron says,” Mike continued. “We’ll–”

  The car swerved violently around a corner; they were all thrown to the right.

  Paul smiled back apologetically.

  Mike threw him a foul look. “Lennox, you’ll go in with Paul and Aaron. Me and Simon here’ll wait with James out front.”

  Simon spoke for the first time. “I know him. I’ll be able to–”

  “He’s right. We need to be as undetectable as possible, Simon,” Lennox cut in. We can do without your emotional agenda.

  “We’re here, the building is just down that street,” Paul announced, opening his door.

  They bundled out of the car. Aaron was already out of his and walking towards them. “Mike fill you guys in? Keep your phones on. Lennox, you come with us.”

  They sauntered around the corner onto a quieter street. Luckily for them, the entrance to the building was as close as Paul had promised. The street was lined with multi-storey apartment blocks like the one they were about to enter: hundreds of eyes could have been watching them at that moment. Mike and Simon had hung back, not wanting to make the already prominent trio even more conspicuous. Paul broke off and hurried to the stairwell door as Aaron and Daniel walked quietly through the shabby lobby to the lifts.

  On the third floor, Aaron peered out cautiously when the doors opened. Paul, waiting outside, gestured that it was safe for them to leave. The short walk down the corridor felt like an eternity for Neil, especially when their silent journey on tiptoe magnified the unnatural silence in the corridor. The rest of the city was a melting pot of sounds; this was pure buzzing silence.

  They reached the door of 305. Neil looked at Paul quizzically. They hadn’t discussed this part. Heart pounding, he hung back. Surfer hairstyle aside, he seemed to have this in hand. Paul rapped on the door sharply. What the hell is he doing?

  “De-liiiiiv-r’y,” he shouted, somehow pitching his voice several frequencies higher than the gravelly bark Neil had come to expect from him – and in a very passable accent.

  Aaron appeared not to have noticed, but Neil couldn’t stifle a smile.

  They waited.

  Paul tried again. “De-liiiiv-r’y. Yo’ foo’ ready,”

  Nothing.

  Paul glanced backwards at Aaron, who nodded. He removed a small wallet from a pocket on his trousers and fished out a sliver of metal. His face screwed up in concentration, he leaned down awkwardly and silently inserted the tool into the lock. Paul stood up a moment later and turned the round handle. He glanced around at the others again and tilted his head slightly towards the door.

  This was it.

  Daniel’s train of thought was destroyed by a low, insistent buzzing thrumming from his laptop. He launched off the couch onto the floor in front of the table and swung the laptop around to face him. He typed furiously for a few seconds, then paused and scanned the screen, eyes darting.

  The seventeen inch screen was split into six identically-sized rectangles. Each displayed a different scene: currently on display was a view of the lobby, the corridor outside the apartment, the stair-well, both lifts and an outward-facing shot from the front of the building. He pressed ‘F1’ and the display switched. The lobby and corridor views remained, but were now accompanied by a shot of the back entrance, the two corridors below and a view of the front of the building.

  Three men he didn’t recognise had tripped the sensor he had affixed to the front door of the building. He watched their progress across the lobby and rubbed his beard thoughtfully. Every day he looked more like one of the hippy backpackers he saw walking around the area. His newly bleached blonde hair added to the effect.

  Although it was practically empty, the building still had other tenants. Their movements triggered the numerous motion detectors he had secreted around the building, causing him to rush to check the cameras. This time, instead of recognising a fellow tenant or service person from their demeanour, he could tell something was wrong. Particularly when they split up and one of the men moved swiftly to the stairs. There was also their size and dress to consider: two looked like mercenaries – one appeared to be wearing a wig, but this did nothing to detract from his suspicion. The other man was large too, but seemed di
fferent to the other two. He was surprised at Simon’s bravery. Where had he found this lot? Or was Simon even behind this? His mind wandered as he toggled the camera view again.

  He had picked up the cameras and sensors for a pittance in a little shop in the city. He now appreciated the fact that one could acquire anything in Bangkok, usually with no questions asked.

  He watched the man in the stairwell sprint up the steps, two at a time, constantly looking around as he approached the camera. He would never see it: it was scarcely larger than a pin head. Daniel had hid it within the instructions on the fire alarm casing.

  Something else caught his eye. He clicked on one of the images to zoom in, and squinted. He smiled. It was Simon alright. He had walked along the street with a fat man, and was now climbing into the back of a car parked across the street. Daniel smirked. He had seen the car before and had suspected that its occupant had been watching the building. A western man sitting in a parked car was conspicuous enough, but this one had been working in shifts with another man. He wouldn’t have noticed them without the cameras, he conceded.

  He closed the zoom view. Simon wasn’t his primary concern. He saw the man from the stairwell pass the lifts. He stopped and waited. Moments later, the two other men left the lift. The cameras weren’t wired for sound, and the picture wasn’t good enough for him to be able to read their lips. They crept along the corridor. Towards his apartment. He watched as the tall one signalled to the others before bending to work on the lock. His eyes flicked to one of the other views. The other men were still in the car across the street from the building. They probably had someone stationed at the back entrance too, he supposed, although he hadn’t seen anyone there. He looked at the other image again. The three men were still outside his apartment. The tall one stood and straightened. He looked back at the others with his hand on the handle. Daniel watched as each one nodded briskly. He held his breath.

  Chapter 22

  Paul reached for his gun with his left hand and pushed the door. A second later, Neil felt his stomach lurch. Aaron and Paul had moved inside in opposite directions, and were shaking their heads.

  What?

  Neil opened his mouth to speak but stopped abruptly as Aaron held a finger to his mouth. Paul pointed at three doors on the other side of the room. He closed the door softly before he and Aaron walked forward to the doors. They gripped a handle each, guns poised. Aaron nodded. They threw the doors open together and burst inside.

  “What the fuck?”

  Neil moved from the middle of the room to look over Aaron’s shoulder.

  “What you got? Other room’s empty,” Paul said, joining them.

  The room was a similar grey shade to the rest of the apartment. It was bare, apart from a set of built-in wardrobes and a bare bed.

  Aaron looked at Paul with raised eyebrows.

  “Nothing,” Aaron confirmed.

  “No,” Neil mouthed. His heart rate slowly returned to normal and brought lucidity along with it. “Where the hell is Grace? And Kirsty?”

  The other men shrugged in unison.

  “Nothing,” Paul recounted into his phone. He ended the call. “They’re on the way up.”

  Neil sat down on one of the couches, exhausted. He had been prepared for action, but not for this. The other two men paced the room, frustrated for different reasons.

  They started when the door opened. It was Mike and Simon.

  “Don’t worry buddy.” Mike walked to where Neil had slumped, and patted his shoulder. “We’ll find her.” he walked back past the door towards the bedrooms. “Whoa, it sure smells like there’s someone here.”

  Simon, visibly shaken, followed him. He hesitated at the door doorway. “Maybe he moved.”

  Paul turned to face them from beside the window. “You think?”

  Mike glared at him. “Not really a good time, Paul.”

  “I don’t get it, I thought you were sure.” Simon turned to Neil. “Where is she? If she’s not here, where is she?”

  Neil shrugged. “I know as much as you. I suppose he panicked when Grace arrived.” he looked around at all of them. “We may as well search the place while we’re waiting. Maybe he left something behind.”

  They each took a room, leaving Simon sitting on the couch, bent double with worry. “It’s all my fault,” he muttered to Neil, who was opening doors and drawers in the kitchen. He walked to the window, suddenly needing air. He looked back at the sharp intake of breath. “Neil? What is it?”

  “I’ve found something!” Neil stood in front of the fridge, leaning against the wide-open door. One-by-one the others collected around him in the small kitchen. They stared open-mouthed.

  Crammed inside the fridge was a tall white man. He was curled up in the foetal position. Neil reached his hand in and felt around for a pulse, redundantly: it was clear from the bluish hue of his skin that he had been dead for some time.

  “Is that our guy?” Paul asked from over Neil’s shoulder.

  “Let me look,” Simon pushed in from the back. The man’s face was part-obscured by his shoulder and arm.

  Paul placed a hand on Simon’s shoulder. “Let’s get him out of there so you can see him properly.”

  “What about the police?” Simon countered.

  “Bit late for the police,” Aaron chuckled.

  Simon glared at him. “You think this is funny?”

  Aaron shook his head. “Sorry, man. But it’s true.” He reached back to the counter and grabbed a cloth. Swaddling his hand with it, he knelt down and tried to move the dead man’s arm aside.

  “It’s not him,” Simon shook his head.

  “Then who is he?” Neil asked, confused.

  “Maybe it’s the guy you told us about,” Mike said, scratching his face. “The boyfriend.”

  Simon shuddered, before looking again. “No, he’s blonde. And tanned.”

  Aaron snorted. “It’s amazing what death and a fridge can do for your tan.”

  Mike tutted, hiding a smirk. “Did you guys find anything in the bedrooms?”

  Paul shrugged. “Absolutely nothing. No bed sheets, no towels. I would have said the place hadn’t been lived in if I hadn’t thrown off the mattresses: the bottoms were stained with,” he looked at Simon and paused. “They were stained.”

  “I’ll check the other one, it just looked unused to me,” Aaron said, walking towards the second bedroom.

  Neil shook his head. “There was nothing in the kitchen at all, apart from the dishes and stuff that must have come with the place. Then I find a body in the fridge. Why leave the body?”

  “This mattress is the same,” Aaron called.

  Mike shook his head, looking at Neil. “A dead body’s harder to transport, for one. Plus, you saw how difficult it was to try and move his arm. Good luck getting that out of the refrigerator.”

  “Does that mean he was killed here,” Neil asked.

  Paul nodded. “I’d bet on it. Whoever killed him could have bundled him up like that and then put him inside, but then it wouldn’t be so hard to get him out. I’d bet he was killed here and stuffed in before rigor had a chance to set in.”

  “Who is this guy? And why leave him here? Does that mean there’s a good chance Grace is alright?”

  Paul shrugged. “You’ll drive yourself crazy thinking about it. But I know something: our body here is unlikely to show us anything useful, otherwise your friend wouldn’t have left him here for us to find.”

  “He knew we’d find him?” Neil asked.

  “Yeah. Look around. The place is scrubbed clean but there’s a body in the fridge. He didn’t care else he wouldn’t have left it.”

  Mike clapped his hands. “Let’s go back to the apartment. We don’t want to be here if the police turn up.”

  “What’ll we do with him?” Neil pointed towards the open fridge.

  They all followed his gaze. “There’s nothing we can do. We’ll call the police anonymously,” Mike finally conceded.

  Nei
l nodded, and moved to leave but stopped suddenly. Taking out his phone, he tapped at the screen before pointing at the fridge. The phone made a synthesised clicking noise.

  He hesitated at the open door a moment before reaching up and closing it to the pervasive humidity.

  The laptop buzzed. The motion detector on 305’s door had just been set off.

  On the monitor, Daniel saw that the three men had congregated around the door to the bedroom directly above Grace’s. Outside, the others were still huddled in the car, watching the entrance.

  Satisfied that he’d covered everything, he checked all of the cameras. There were five of them now, Simon and another man having joined them later. Even on the grainy picture he could make out Simon’s expression: he was satisfied to see that his old friend looked utterly anguished.

  He was intrigued by one of the other men’s reactions: the others seemed concerned, but this one was different. It was the one who was dressed differently to his colleagues. Who was he?

  Now they were fanning out to search the rooms. He held his breath again; sure that he hadn’t left anything incriminating behind but spellbound by the suspense. What if they recognised Grant from the pictures? Daniel had dyed his hair, sure, but he himself had recognised him immediately in the internet cafe that day. Daniel knew that Simon too had been checking Kirsty’s Facebook compulsively: he was bound to have had a similar reaction. Would he admit it? He frowned. Simon was unlikely to go to the police, but the others?

  Shit.

  He had expected them to linger for longer. Now they were leaving? He didn’t have much time.

  Chapter 23

  Grace’s unexpected arrival had ruined Daniel’s relaxed routine, and he looked at her resentfully now as he plunged the contents of the syringe into her arm. He had noticed the welts on her ankles as soon as he removed the ropes earlier that morning. He guessed that she’d done it on purpose, and sorely wished that he could just kill her there and then as planned, but now he’d have to bring her too. Even then he’d have to wait until those godforsaken wounds cleared up, or no one would ever believe it was a suicide.