Knife and Death: A killer seeks revenge. A friend brutally murdered. A woman runs for her life. (DCI James Hardy Book 1)

by J. A. Gill

  'Is there anything else you need, Hardy?' said Webster.

  'I need space and time, that's all.'

  'Sorry about the Mayor. I'll keep him off your back as long as I can. He's new in the job and has found himself under pressure from Downing Street. He'll calm down or something else big will come along and he'll find himself wrapped up in that. You know how it goes.'

  I nodded appreciatively. Rayner looked my way and wondered what he'd missed but knew better than to ask and find himself unnecessarily drawn into police politics.

  Webster didn't waste any time. He dispatched officers to my house and to that of my parents. I requested more be posted at the home of my parents as all I needed was surveillance, I saw no point in using the limited manpower guarding my home which would mostly be empty while I worked. It was Alice, Faith, Monica and my parents I wanted to protect.

  As soon as I was out of the office I got on the phone and called in a favour from a buddy of my brother. Chris Brown is ex-British army, intelligence corp. He and my brother were at school together and both joined the Royal Marines at the same time. My brother is still serving. When Chris decided to leave after a bad fall during a night time training exercise he set up a company in the private sector. He was now in demand installing state of art the security systems and supplying highly trained and disciplined security guards and body guards to the rich and famous. By the end of the day Chris had personally surveyed both homes and his team had installed state of the art security, run penetration tests and supplied location tracking devices. Chris Brown even offered man power in the form of an ex-SAS service team, which for the time being I declined.

  Once the team had gone Mum was in her kitchen baking with Alice and Faith trying to portray a sense of 'life as normal'. Rayner was in the kitchen too and much to the delight of the girls had become their 'Royal taster'. After one last cookie and another theatrical poisoning to amuse the girls he winked at me and made his escape. He turned to Alice and Faith. 'Time to go see my Jenny, she'll be wondering where I am and I don't want her forgetting my name now do I?' Rayner hugged the girls and gave Mum a kiss and I walked him out.

  'It's going to be fine,' said Rayner.

  'I've got a bad feeling about this one. I just don't understand it, I must be missing something. Why bother coming at me? Why take that chance? It's like poking a hornet's nest, you don't do it unless you're crazy?'

  Thirty-Two

  I found Monica in the upstairs bathroom, I could see she was upset though she was pretending she wasn't. We talked for a while and I explained everything was under control and that we were probably now the safest family, after the Royal family, in London. 'Will you teach me to shoot a gun?' she said out of the blue. I knew where she was coming from but all the same her request took me by surprise. She was perched on the edge of the bath tub and I held her hand.

  'You don't need a gun,' I assured her. 'We have officers outside and a state of the art security system. You have all that so that you don't need a gun. Either myself or Rayner or a fellow officer will be around to do the school run.'

  I was concerned Monica's life was becoming overly complicated. I took the opportunity to say a few things that had been on my mind for a while. 'To a certain degree Helena knew what she was getting when she married me, she knew the type of work I do, I was very clear about that.'

  'What are you saying James? I don't understand.'

  'You've found yourself mixed up in my life, in part because you needed a refuge from Scott, which was fine, just like Helena I'm here to support you one hundred percent. But now it seems that refuge might not look so safe. You're mixed up in all my problems and it wasn't what you bargained for. We love having you with us, the children adore you and love you and I honestly wonder how I would have coped without you. You've been so generous and kind. You've done more than you ever needed to or should have. Since losing Helena it has worked well for us both. It's just, I don't want you feeling you have to stay. I also don't want you to feel that I'm taking advantage of your kindness. What I am saying is I'd understand if you wanted to get as far away from all this as you can. I'd figure something out. I know my parents would help out with the girls. Maybe, you'd feel happier staying with one of your girl friends or even back with your parents? Somewhere, less complicated.'

  'Are you asking me to leave?' Monica looked heartbroken and her eyes filled with tears.

  'No, no, no. Stop, don't cry. Oh please, I'm sorry. I just wonder whether you'll ever be able to move on with your life when you're mixed up in all the dramas of my life. I'm not asking you to leave, you must understand that. I'm just saying you don't need to be mixed up in all this, you're free to leave anytime you feel less than safe. Please don't feel you have a responsibility to us, we'll cope without you, somehow, I mean, all the time you're here I feel responsible for you as well as Alice and Faith.' I knew immediately I'd said it all wrong, for some strange reason I'd gotten tongue tied. This was one of those moments I wanted to rewind and start over but in real life that just doesn't happen.

  Monica pushed past me and went to her room. The slammed door sent a clear message. I was left with my head in my hands cursing my idiocy. Damn it. As I came out of the bathroom I met Mum, Alice and Faith at the top of the stairs. 'I suppose you heard all that?' I said. From the look on their faces I had little doubt they had.

  My daughters looked at me stony faced and Mum looked ready to strangle me. 'Sometimes James Hardy you're a bloody fool, a bloody fool who cannot see a good thing even when it's right under his nose. Get yourself downstairs, I'll speak to Monica.' Alice crossed her arms and little Faith rolled her eyes at me and tutted.

  Thirty-Three

  'He's not in any sort of trouble, is he? He's a good boy. Very bright. Extremely bright. Always has been. He's always on his computer. He tells me he's being good, but I don't know. I mean I trust him. We both do. But you know how fifteen year old boys can be. All that, you know, testosterone,' said Mrs Rose, looking at her husband for reassurance.

  'Oh, yes,' said Mr Rose. 'I'm pretty sure we'd know if he was up to no good. Not that I know one end of a computer from another. Never used that Facebook or the other one, Twitter. Obviously, I've heard about them but I haven't used them myself, don't see the point. But Joshy, well he's an expert at all that stuff. Isn't he love?'

  Before Mrs Rose could continue I interjected. 'He contacted us. I gather he has some information, and so, as far as I am aware he isn't in any trouble. I shouldn't worry too much, for now.'

  Mr and Mrs Rose shifted uneasily. 'I see,' said Mr Rose. 'Well best you just ignore us. Bit out of touch.'

  'Joshy love,' called out Mrs Rose. 'Joshy love, are you there? There's an Inspector Hardy here to see you.'

  'He's a Detective Chief Inspector love,' corrected Mr Rose.

  Mrs Rose looked at me apologetically. 'Detective Chief Inspector Hardy,' called Mrs Rose again, this time with anger and frustration in her voice.

  'Okay, okay, keep your hair on. Just give me two minutes, alright?' Josh called back. Mr and Mrs Rose looked awkwardly at each other and then at me.

  'Tea Inspector? I've got some fruit cake as well if you'd like some?'

  'That would be lovely, thank you. Tea, milk, no sugar,' I said, more to ease the awkwardness than anything.

  Josh appeared at the top of the stairs in black socks, grey jogging trousers and a 'Muse' t-shirt. 'Come up then,' said Josh disappearing back into his room as quickly as he had appeared.

  Mr Rose smiled apologetically. 'First on right.'

  'Perhaps you'd accompany me, Josh is a minor, it would be best if one of his parents are with him.'

  I was expecting Josh Rose's bedroom to be a complete mess but I was pleasantly surprised. The room was neat and tidy and I didn't get the feeling his mother had just tidied it. Instead it seemed Josh liked order. Mr Rose sat on the bed behind us. A chair was waiting for me and so I introduced myself and sat beside Josh in front of his computer and three display monitors. On the d
esk were other devices all of which were neatly arranged.

  'I got your message Josh,' I said. 'So I am assuming you have something you want to share with me.'

  Josh stopped typing. Closed all the windows on his screens and leaned back in his chair. He was appraising me. Satisfied, he looked at his father and then back at me.

  'So, like, I know what I'm doing isn't strictly legal. I'm, like, also aware that Scotland Yard can't trace what I'm doing or where I've been,' started Josh.

  'For the love of God,' said Mr Rose. 'You told your mother and I that you weren't doing anything illegal. You haven't hacked into the Pentagon, or the FBI have you? You haven't joined that Nigel Farage at WikiLeaks have you?'

  'Shut up dad. You sound like an idiot. Farage is nothing to do with WikiLeaks.'

  Mr Rose grumbled, folded his arms and then crossed his legs, then uncrossed his legs and sat there worrying about what was going to come out of his son's mouth next. He worried how Mrs Rose was going to take the news their son might soon be wanted by the US government and who would feed the cat if they had to spend time visiting their son in a high security prison in the United States. Imagine the pointing and behind the hand whispering at church.

  'Before I tell you anything I want you to understand,' said Josh.

  'Okay, that sounds fair, the least I can do is listen' I said. Josh appraised me again, perhaps feeling that was a little too easy. 'I'm under the impression you can help me,' I offered with a friendly smile. 'I'm all ears.'

  'Right so, like, I belong to a small elite community that specialises in policing the internet. We go after serious crime, there is too much regular crime so we pin point the top one percent of potential cyber criminals or other criminal activity we can access online. We visit places that are supposed to be impenetrable and take a look. We're like the online equivalent of the SAS. We go in, gather intel' and get out fast. Sometimes there's a bit of a firefight while we cover our tracks. Usually though it's boring and nobody knows we were ever there. When we find something of significance we pass it on. You following so far?' asked Josh.

  Mr Rose mumbled something inaudible about privacy laws. I nodded and made a mental note to ask Josh later who he passed his information on to.

  'Anyway, I'm checking out this one guy in New Zealand. No reason to go into why exactly. I'm running some data through this software I've written that saves me, like, hours. So, I'm waiting for it to do its thing and I'm, like, looking at a few large cash deposits, that lead me to this dude's browsing habits. And I come across this secure site this guy's a member of. Right? Got it?'

  'Yes,' I said. Though in reality I was not sure why Josh had asked for me or where with is going. 'Please carry on.'

  Josh turned to his monitors and began typing. In a few seconds he had a website up and continued talking away, some of which I understood. 'Look, Inspector Hardy, I see all sorts of crazy stuff online. Most of it I'm not interested in, even though those involved definitely need locking up. Online, right now, it's like the Wild West. The Wild West but without any lawmen to stand up and fight. Mainly because governments don't know what's going on, or don't have the skill set or resources to fight back and just like the Wild West the internet is one vast untamed wilderness. Instead they fight fires and make noise about doing something. In my opinion, they need a tactical approach and need to grasp the magnitude of what is going on and do something before cyber-crime is too unwieldy to tackle. Anyway, my team and I are just getting on with doing what we can ourselves. We usually expose mega stuff, nothing on a personal level. By that I mean we're not interested in low-level scams, we're exposing high profile stuff, best I don't go into detail. Anyway, this time I wanted to tell someone about a low-level thing I saw. When I show you you'll understand, I know you will.'

  Josh was now trying to get into a secure page. He began tutting and sucking his teeth. 'Updated the security a little. Pathetic. That all you got. Okay so I'll just. Here we go.' I watched as Josh's fingers flew across the keys as on the screen windows opened and closed. 'Right so, check this out. Boom! Here we go, Inspector.'

  I looked at one of the three screens in front of me and began reading. Josh was all smiles and really animated, rocking back and forth in his chair whilst sipping from a can of Dr Pepper.

  'What you have here Inspector Hardy is what I believe is an online community of stone cold killers. Look here.' Josh began pointing at the screen. 'This dude is bragging. All looks genuine to me. Well I wouldn't be wasting your time if it didn't.'

  There were pictures, videos, posts, comments and even reviews all apparently related to murders. Whether these were old cases or even genuine I couldn't tell. Then Josh opened up a window that changed everything. He slid the window over to the screen nearest me. 'And this is why I asked for you,' said Josh.

  In front of me was a series of pictures of Toby Fielding. A montage showing him first tied to a chair and then a sequence of images showing the gradual progress of his being tortured until finally his lifeless body lay contorted and bloodied. Josh pointed to a final image and looked at me with a huge grin. I groaned audibly as I realised the very last picture was of me talking to Rayner right before he and I entered the gallery on Old Potter Street.

  Thirty-Four

  Vlad eyed the fat man. He'd always disliked him but tolerated him because it was good for business. Now, despite the benefits he could no longer tolerate him. His demands; his negotiations; the way he filled a chair; the way he stuffed his fat face; his constant sweating; his stupid German accent. Most of all he despised the way the fat man demanded Albanian women. Vlad realised this demand by the fat man was nothing to do with his taste in women. He doubted he really had a preference at all. No, Vlad had come to realise it was purely the fat man's way of disrespecting him. Demanding and using girls from Vlad's own birthplace was purely symbolic. It was the fat man's way of saying, I'll take what I like and there is nothing you can do about it. Vlad felt himself blaze with fury but he kept it in check. He'd often imagined gutting the fat man. The way he'd seen his father gut a pig when he was boy. Hung from the ceiling by his ankles, throat and belly sliced open with the intestines removed. Blood gushing and then draining into a bucket. That day couldn't come soon enough.

  Vlad was back in the room. Behind the glass wall the doors opened and the women filed in one by one and began to line up in front of them. Having completed today's more serious business it was now time for the final part of the transaction. The metaphorical cherry on the fat man's enormous cake. Vlad watched the fat man ease his huge bulk forward to get a closer look. He watched him moisten his thin red lips and narrow his piggy eyes. Each girl carried a number. The fat man read some stapled pages which contained a brief description of each girl. Height, weight, age, colouring, nationality, fictitious history and sexual preferences. One of Vlad's managers had filled out the descriptions which were full creative writing to make the women seem a little more exotic. The fat man compared each woman with the notes. The fat man's breathing became louder and Vlad watched him as he dabbed his bloated face with an embroidered handkerchief.

  After some consideration, the fat man circled the number of the girls he wanted and passed the sheet to Vlad. He then thanked Vlad for his hospitality and repeated how much he enjoyed their working together.

  Without another word, the fat man heaved himself out of his chair and leaning heavily on a cane left the room. Once outside the room the fat man was greeted by his aide and bodyguard, Hans Vogt.

  Vlad tossed the papers across the room and poured himself a large whiskey. Alberto entered the room and stood beside his boss. 'Everything okay with the German?' asked Alberto.

  'I never want to do business with that--' Vlad stopped what he was saying and walked over to the glass and began watching girl number eight. He then picked up the papers he had thrown across the room and looked at the numbers the fat man had circled. 'We're not sending the German any more girls. It's over,' said Vlad.

  'Are you sure?' asked Albe
rto. 'You know what it will mean?'

  Vlad walked over to Alberto and stood directly in front of him. Alberto didn't flinch but looked his boss squarely in the eye. 'I am sure my friend. It's time to make the fat German pig squeal for the last time.'

  'Okay, when do want me to do it?' asked Alberto

  Vlad walked back to the glass and looked at girl number eight. She had removed the heavy earrings, dropped the number on the floor and was now unfastening her uncomfortable high heels. The girls either side of her had stepped away to distance themselves. Vlad smiled as he watched then said. 'I'm going to do it. You can sit this one out.'

  Alberto came over and stood next to Vlad and they both watched girl number eight.

  'Alberto, my friend, I am going to shake things up. Make sure the men - you know. Just keep them on their toes.'

  'What about Papa?' said Alberto.

  'I will talk to Papa. It's time we found a new route through Europe. He'll understand.'

  Alberto wasn't so sure. 'The German's demands are eating into our profits and on top of that German border security is so high these days it's almost impossible to move anything of any size, so now would definitely be a good time to make alternative arrangements.'

  'My thoughts exactly, brother,' said Vlad. He squeezed his brother's shoulder. 'My thoughts exactly.'

  'That's Ava?' said Alberto. 'I'm not sure how she ended up in the room.' The two men laughed as they watched her. She was now sitting on the floor rubbing her feet.

  'Have you found out anything more about her?'

  'Not really. Nothing more than we already knew. I'll keep digging.' Alberto began to leave the room, as he opened the door Vlad spoke to him over his shoulder.

  'Leave Ava in the room, ask all the other girls to come out and just leave Ava in there. I want to watch her for a while, she makes me laugh.' Vlad poured himself drink and pulled his chair closer to the glass. He smiled as the girls were pulled out the room and Ava was forced to remain behind. She began protesting and swearing and hitting and kicking the door and then she turned her attention to the one-way mirror wall which she repeatedly hit with the heel of her shoe. 'Let me out,' she yelled at the mirror. 'I know you're there. Let me out of here – now!'