by Neal Martin
Edger did as he was told, tossing the gun on the floor behind him before sinking to his knees. He took off the balaclava, dropped it to the floor and put his hands behind his head, at which point Black rushed towards him and pushed him forward to the floor, kneeling on his back. Then the cop pulled Edger's wrists together and used a plastic cable tie to bind them. "You're under arrest, Mr Edger," he said.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Shortly after the cops took the mad man Edger away, Brian McGinty sat in his study, already on his third glass of Powers whiskey, the amber liquid going some way to calming his nerves. The cops had offered to take him to the hospital to get his nose looked at, but McGinty had waved them away. It wasn't the first time he had had his nose broken. He would visit the hospital tomorrow. For now, he had other worries. His wife Maureen was badly shaken up after the whole experience. Then there was the fact that she had openly acknowledged his sexual proclivities for the first time since discovering them ten years ago, shortly after they were married. Up to that point, he had been careful to hide the material he kept on his computers. But one night he got drunk and carelessly left one of the files open for her to find. She never spoke to him for days afterwards, and when she did finally speak to him, it was as if nothing had ever happened. It was like they came to a silent agreement that he could indulge his sexual preferences if he liked, as long as he continued to provide the socialite lifestyle she had grown so used to. In effect, he paid her for her silence on the matter, and that suited him fine.
But in the presence of that gun man, Maureen had cracked. It was a shock to hear her mention it after ten years of silence. McGinty was surprised Edger—whoever the hell he was—never mentioned the laptop to the cops. Of course, he still might. But McGinty wasn't all that worried. Whatever stupid and unjust charges that would potentially be levelled at him, he would ensure they were dropped quickly, and kept from the media, the way tonight's incident would be kept from the media also. He was the Lord Mayor. The last thing he needed was a load of questions thrown at him that would damage his career.
He had enough questions of his own anyway. Like how the hell did Maureen know about the Country Club and what went on there? Had she followed him one night? Or did she hear something about it from one of the other wives she liked to socialise with? It was one of the rules of the club that it must never be talked about in public. Maybe someone had overheard a conversation and relayed it to Maureen. He didn't know. The only thing that mattered was that she knew, and that was bad for her, and for him. If the people who ran the Country Club suspected an outsider knowing about it, that made that person a target. That made Maureen a target. McGinty wanted to find out how much she knew, but when the cops left, she had given McGinty a look of sheer disgust before going upstairs to their bedroom with a bottle of gin and locking the door. McGinty knew he wouldn't see her until the next day when she would likely emerge from hiding and begin to act as if nothing had ever happened. That's how they always handled things like this. She turned a blind eye to his many indiscretions, business and personal, and he pretended like she didn't know anything. It was an arrangement that allowed them both to get what they wanted.
But not this time. If she knew about the Country Club, he had to find out exactly what she knew. Both their lives depended on it.
Then there was the man who held them at gun point tonight. Harry Edger his name was apparently. The policeman who saved them, Detective Black, had said something about the man's daughter being abducted, and that holding the McGinty's hostage might have something to do with that. Of course, the detective had asked McGinty if Edger had said anything while he held them hostage, but McGinty had said no, that Edger never gave a reason for his actions. The detective was none too satisfied by that answer, but he had no choice but to accept it, at least for the time being until McGinty and his wife would inevitably have to give statements about what happened. McGinty's solicitor would be present then, so McGinty wasn't worried. Neither was he worried about his past run in with that detective. Black had tried to arrest McGinty before on child porn charges. The charges didn't stick. McGinty got the impression Black wouldn't have been too worried if Edger had of pulled that trigger earlier.
Putting two and two together, it was clear to McGinty that someone had kidnapped Edger's daughter, and then told Edger that he had to kill McGinty if he ever wanted his daughter back. That disturbed McGinty deeply. Why the hell did someone want him dead? The only reason he could think off was that it had something to do with the Country Club. But why get a man like Edger to do it? It didn't make sense.
McGinty sighed, and then winced at the pain in his face as he sat in his chair. He drank the rest of the whiskey in his glass before pouring himself another, downing it in one and putting the empty glass on the desk. Then he lifted his mobile phone of the desk and dialled a number. The call was answered, but the person on the other end said nothing.
"I thought you should know," McGinty said in an almost reverent tone. "Some man broke into my house tonight and held my wife and I at gunpoint. Apparently someone kidnapped his daughter and told him to kill me." McGinty swallowed nervously. "I think it might have something to do with the club. Maybe someone is on to us."
"We know," said a man's voice in a Southern accent.
McGinty froze. "You know?"
"It's being taken care of."
The line went dead, and McGinty stared at the phone in his hand for a moment, before placing it back on the desk. With sweaty, shaking hands, he poured another drink. "What the fuck is happening?" he said to himself.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
After Edger was arrested at the McGinty's house, he was brought to Lisburn Road police station, whereupon he was processed, stripped of all his possessions and placed into a cold prison cell. It wasn't the first time he had been locked up. Back in the Legion, he had done two separate stints in a military prison, the longest being for two months. The cell itself didn't bother him. What bothered him was the fact that his daughter was still out there, being held by some madman who would hurt her when Edger inevitably failed to phone in at the arranged time.
Not that phoning in would do any good, as he had failed to kill McGinty. The plan was never to kill the politician anyway, at least not at first. Edger went to that house with the intention of holding McGinty hostage and making him look dead so he could send a photo to the kidnapper, which hopefully would have appeased the kidnapper into giving back Kaitlin. But then Edger had seen the vile contents of McGinty's laptop. After that, if the cop hadn't called to the house, Edger probably would have shot McGinty. Any qualms he had about committing murder—however noble the reasons—were quashed when he saw the images and videos of those poor kids. Men like McGinty didn't deserve to live.
It seemed like hours before a uniformed cop finally came to Edger's cell and escorted him through the building to an interview room where Detective Paul Black awaited him. The woman detective who was at Edger's apartment that day was also there. The uniformed cop walked Edger around the other side of a table and sat him down in a plastic chair before leaving the room.
When the two detectives identified themselves for the recording being made of the interview, Black also made note of the time. 12:35 a.m.
Edger's gut twisted up. In three and a half hours, Kaitlin's kidnapper would follow through on his threat to hurt Kaitlin, and there wasn't a damn thing Edger could do about it. He wanted to bang the table with his fists, but he forced himself to keep calm, preferring to present a blank front to the two detectives.
"So, Mr Edger," Black began, seemingly satisfied that he had finally got his man. "We have you on a number of charges, including kidnapping and assault with a deadly weapon. You won't be going anywhere for a while, so why don't you tell us what you were up to."
"We know your daughter has been kidnapped for some reason," McKee said, her tone as sharp as her nose. "Are you going to tell us why now?"
Edger said nothing.
McKee shook her head.<
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"Come on, Harry," Black said, lounging back in his chair. "You might be screwed, but your daughter doesn't have to be. Tell us what you know so we can help her."
Edger said nothing.
"Do you not care what happens to your daughter, Mr Edger?" McKee asked.
Edger's jaw muscles tensed. Of course I fucking care what happens to my daughter, he felt like screaming at the cop. Why do you think I've ended up here in a fucking police station?
But he said nothing.
"Did the kidnapper ask you to kill the Lord Mayor?" Black asked. "Is that why you were there?"
Edger remained silent.
McKee sighed. "This is a waste of time," she said, standing up. "He's not talking." She threw him a look before she left the room.
Black leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "I don't blame you for trying to help your daughter," he said. "I've two daughters myself. If someone ever took them from me, God forbid that ever happened, I would do anything to get them back as well. But I wouldn't be stupid enough to not accept help from those who wanted to give it, if it meant getting my daughters back. You see what I'm saying, Harry? My children are the most precious thing in the world to me, and if for some reason I couldn't help them, then I would find someone who could. You understand?"
Edger stared at Black for a moment, then looked away. He had no doubt the cop was genuine in wanting to help him get Kaitlin back, but Edger also knew that no one could get Kaitlin back but him. The whole situation revolved around him for whatever reason, and therefore he had to be the one to handle it. But that was all well and good when he wasn't in police custody. Now he was fucked in more ways than one. He was going to jail, and he couldn't help Kaitlin from jail.
"You don't really have a choice here, Harry," Black said. "You either let us help you, or leave the fate of your daughter in the hands of the person who abducted her." He stood up. "Think about it. I'll be back soon to formally charge you."
When Black left the room, Edger let out a long breath, then he leaned his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his hands. What the fuck was he going to do? If he did bring the cops in on it, what were they going to do? The only possible help Edger could envision the cops giving was in trying to locate the kidnapper via the mobile phone the kidnapper had given Edger. Maybe he could make another call, explain his current situation to the kidnapper while the cops tried to get a location on the kidnappers phone. But what if the kidnapper decided to end the whole thing because Edger was no longer in a position to help him? Would the kidnapper then just kill Kaitlin and be done with it?
Fuck it. He had to let the cops help. He decided to tell Black about the mobile phone the kidnapper had provided him with. He would then make a call, and the cops could get a location. Hopefully. That was the only thing they could do.
Black was at his desk, getting the paper work ready so he could formally charge Edger, when he got the word from one of the detective constables that he was wanted in the Chief Inspectors office. "Now?" he asked. "I'm a bit busy here."
"Chief says it's important, Paul," the constable said.
Black sighed and stopped shuffling the papers on his desk. "I'll be there now."
Detective Chief Inspector David Holmes' office was just down the hall from the main incident room. Black made his way there, wondering what Holmes wanted. Probably a progress report on the Edger case. No doubt the Lord Mayor was breathing down the Chief's neck to make sure Edger got the full measure of the law, which Black had no problem in ensuring anyway. He knocked on the door of the Chief's office, and then walked in.
DCI Holmes was sitting behind his desk, a rugged man in his fifties, with swept back grey hair and heavy jowls. The jacket of his dark suit was draped over the back of his leather swivel chair, and his dark blue tie was loosened and pulled open to reveal an open shirt collar. "Paul," he said in his gravelly voice. "Take a seat. I've something to tell you."
"You don't look happy about it, Davie, whatever it is," Black said.
"I'm not. Far from it."
Black frowned. "Is this about Edger? I'm about to charge him."
Holmes stared at Black with eyes like chips of granite. "You'll have to let him go."
Incredulous, Black shook his head. "I'm sorry, what?"
"You heard me. You'll have to let Edger go."
Black stared back at his superior, expecting Holmes to burst out laughing, like this was all some sort of stupid joke. Except he knew Holmes wasn't the joking type. "You can't be serious, Davie. The guy was going to kill the fucking Lord Mayor. How can we just let him go?"
"Not my decision, Paul. This comes from the Superintendent, who was just passing the order on to me himself. Somebody high up wants Edger released, effective immediately."
"This can't be right, he's—"
"Right or wrong, we both have our orders. Release him."
"Just like that? Is he intelligence or something? MI5?"
"I don't know what he is. I'm as in the dark as you are on this."
"Edger is a dangerous man. His daughter has been kidnapped. He'll kill people to get her back."
Holmes sighed, clearly as unhappy in his own way over the situation as Black was. But Black also knew the decision had been made, and there wasn't anything either of them could do about it. Besides, it wasn't the first time they would have had to release clearly guilty men. Black wondered if it was just a coincidence that they had the very man Edger intended to kill tonight on child porn charges a few years ago, only to be told that he was to be let go as well. And McGinty wasn't the only one. There had been at least half a dozen others over the course of Black's career, all brought in on various charges with incontrovertible evidence held against them, only to walk free a short time later thanks to orders from above. No one was allowed to question these decisions. Black did once and ended up being demoted on grounds of drinking on the job. Which was ridiculous, because at the time, half the fucking force drank on the job.
"You're to let this go," Holmes said. "Which means no further investigation into Edger once he's released. You've plenty of other cases to work on. I suggest you concentrate on those instead if you know what's good for you. That's all, Inspector."
Holmes went back to whatever he was doing, sorting through paper work.
Black continued sitting.
"I said that's all, Inspector," Holmes barked.
Black shook his head and stood up. "Yes, sir."
When Black walked back into the interview room half an hour later, Edger knew something was wrong with the man. The cop's expression was dark, and he hardly looked at Edger as he came and sat down. Edger waited, wondering what had changed. The air of satisfaction at having brought in his man had now left the detective. The air the cop gave off now was one of distinct dissatisfaction and barely concealed anger. His hard grey eyes fixed on Edger. "Who the fuck are you, Edger?" he asked.
"What?"
"I said, who are you?"
Edger shook his head in confusion. "I'm not following you."
A cynical laugh came from Black's mouth. "I'm sure you're not."
"What's going on Detective?"
"What's going on is that I've been ordered to release you."
Edger couldn't have been any more shocked if Black had punched him in the face. "What? Why?"
Black sat forcefully back in his chair. "You tell me."
"You think I've something to do with it?"
"Well obviously. Is that why you've been so calmly uncooperative?"
Edger shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Of course you don't. Just like all the rest."
Edger was as confused by this newest development as Black clearly was, but he thought it better not to show his confusion too much. Better if Black thought Edger had someone high up looking out for him. Perhaps then the cop would leave him alone. "I can go now then?"
"You can go."
Edger stood up and went to leave the interview room.
"Edger," Black called, without turning round.
Edger paused by the door.
"I don't care what anyone else says. You're a dangerous man. You belong in jail. The first chance I get, I'm putting you there."
Edger walked out of the room and closed the door behind him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Edger collected all his belongings—jacket, wallet, watch, two mobile phones, zippo lighter and tobacco tin, plus his car keys—from the front desk of the police station. "What about my gun?" he asked the duty officer. The duty officer, a thick necked twenty something with a hard stare on him, said, "Are you joking?"
Edger just looked at him.
"Your gun has been confiscated," the duty officer said. "Your licence has also been revoked. Your car is outside in the parking area."
Edger took his belongings and left the station, walking out into the windy darkness where he soon found his car. He got inside and looked at the phone the kidnapper had given him. There was a text on it, which Edger opened. TIME'S A TICKIN the text said. The clock on the phone said 2:27 a.m.
"Fucks sake," Edger muttered. The deadline was 4:00 a.m. What the hell was he going to do?
He looked at his own mobile phone to see several missed calls on it. Two from Rankin, one from Gemma, and three from Donna Lennon, obviously wanting updates on the situation.
After rolling himself a cigarette, Edger started the car and drove out of the station to the Lisburn Road. He drove about half a mile before pulling the car into the side of the road and turning the engine off.
Picking up his mobile phone of the front seat, he dialled Rankin's personal mobile number. "Hello?" said a groggy voice upon answering. "Harry? Is that you?"
"It's me," Edger said.
"What's happening, Harry?" Rankin sounded more awake now. "Did you do it?"
