by DS Butler
He turned again, and to Lisa’s surprise, he headed for the stairs down to Monument Underground Station.
Where the hell was he taking her?
She reached out for the handrail to steady herself as they descended. He had one hand resting on her shoulder, and his other hand kept the weapon pressed into her side.
People were pouring out of the station. It seemed like hundreds of them were walking past, and not one of them paid a blind bit of notice. Lisa wanted to scream.
But he said if she behaved he’d let her go. She couldn’t risk it.
They stood downstairs on the platform waiting for the District line. It was packed, but they only had to wait for thirty seconds before the train rumbled in.
“This one,” he said, nudging her forward.
Lisa stumbled ahead, stepping onto the train. The lights felt hot and brighter down here.
The seats were all full, and five people stood by the sliding doors.
Lisa found herself wedged between the glass separating the seats from the standing positions and the man who was holding the weapon to her back.
He leaned forward to whisper in her ear.
“Act natural,” he said in a sing-song voice.
Lisa looked at the other passengers in the carriage. They all stared blankly ahead. She tried to catch someone’s eye, but she knew it was hopeless. People always ignored each other on the tube.
What if he was lying?
What if he wasn’t going to let her go? This could be her only chance.
There was a small Asian woman sitting in the seat closest to them. She had the handle of a carrier bag wrapped round her wrist, and she was bundled up in a thick coat and scarf. Lisa glanced down at the woman’s feet. She was wearing sensible shoes, and she was staring across the aisle at her reflection in the glass.
Lisa held her breath and moved her foot forward, nudging the woman, staring at her, willing her to notice.
At first the woman didn’t respond, and on the third nudge, she looked up sharply and gave Lisa a spiteful look, before shuffling her feet out of the way, out of Lisa’s reach, and returning her gaze to the window.
No! Why was nobody paying any attention?
She wanted to cry. But at least the man behind her hadn’t noticed.
She glanced over her shoulder at him, and he gave her a long lazy smile.
“Not far to go now,” he said.
Lisa gazed wildly around the carriage. There were men in here. At least ten tall, strong men. Surely they could overpower the man behind her. If she could just make a dash for it…
She focused on the man closest to her. A businessman, wearing a grey suit. His face was almost as grey as his suit under the underground lights. He seemed to blend all into one. He held a paper in front of him, folded into a tiny square, as he scratched some letters onto it.
Jesus, Lisa thought, I am being held hostage by a madman just two feet away, and he’s doing the bloody crossword.
She looked further down the carriage at a young woman with a toddler sitting on her knee. The woman was oblivious to Lisa, but the little boy in his red jacket and wellington boots stared up at her.
He noticed. The little boy realised something was wrong. Lisa tried to wave at him, but it didn’t have the effect she’d hoped for. The boy pulled a face, as if he might cry, and turned back towards his mother.
The train was slowing for a stop. She pressed as close to the piece of glass as she could, moving out of the way of the passengers disembarking.
She could run now while the door was open and make a dash for it. If she timed it just right, the doors might close on him and he might get stuck or at least delayed.
But she hesitated too long. More passengers had climbed aboard, and then there was a beep and the doors closed.
It’s okay, Lisa told herself. She’d do it at the next station. The next stop would be where she made her move.
It was silly to try and get away when she was trapped inside the same carriage. Her only chance would be to do it as they got off the train.
She didn’t believe him when he said he’d let her go. She’d be stupid to trust him.
She had to try and make a break for it herself.
40
MACKINNON WALKED UP THE stairs at Wood Street Station, rubbing his sore wrists. He was grateful he’d got back in one piece, but his head was killing him.
“You need to get yourself checked out,” Collins said. “You’re going to have a lump the size of an egg on the side of your head.”
On instinct, Mackinnon reached up and touched his temple, then winced. Collins was right.
“Yeah. I might go after work tonight,” Mackinnon said.
As soon as they entered the incident room, DC Webb called them over.
“We’ve got the girl on CCTV.”
Mackinnon and Collins hurried over to Webb’s desk.
DC Webb angled his monitor so they could see the images on the screen.
“We’ve got some screenshots of Lisa Stratton with an IC3 male leaving the Walrus and Carpenter Pub.” Webb pointed a finger at the screen.
Mackinnon swallowed and leaned closer to the monitor. He felt sick.
“That’s Kwame,” Mackinnon said. “Kwame Okoro, the Oracle’s son.”
DC Webb picked up the phone on his desk. “I’ll tell Tyler.”
The next few minutes passed in a blur.
They had CCTV footage of Lisa Stratton and Kwame Okoro leaving the underground station at Mile End, and then heading towards St Paul’s Way, but they’d lost them after Kwame took a left turn into the Towers Estate.
DI Tyler stood at the front of the room. His tie was askew and his face looked almost as creased as his shirt.
“Listen up,” he said. “DC Webb has got the latest update.”
He nodded to DC Webb who got up from his desk and walked towards the whiteboard and a map of East London and the City that was pinned to the green board next to it.
A blue line snaked along the map from Monument Street to the Towers Estate.
“This is the route they’ve taken,” DC Webb said, pointing to the blue line.
“We’ve lost him on the CCTV, but we know they entered the Towers Estate. Which means they are somewhere in this area.”
DC Webb drew a circular shape with a red marker pen, highlighting the Towers Estate.
“He must still be in there. If he’d come out we would have seen him.”
Tyler nodded. “It’s not a very big area. We’ve got uniform going door-to-door at the moment. SO19 are on standby, but we don’t believe Kwame Okoro has a gun. On a section of the CCTV footage, Okoro’s coat slipped back a little and gave us a better view of the weapon. It looks like a knife.”
That was something at least, but Mackinnon didn’t think Lisa Stratton would find it that reassuring.
“We need to keep monitoring all CCTV cameras in the area. We also need to look into Kwame Okoro’s background. Does he have friends or family in the Towers Estate? We need to find out where he is heading.”
Tyler frowned and gazed around the room. “I don’t need to remind you that we are dealing with a very dangerous man. He is our prime suspect for the murders of Francis Eze, Adam Jonah, Mark Fleming and his own father, Germaine Okoro. And now he has Lisa Stratton. He has a hostage.
“We need to act fast, but methodically. We can’t miss anything.”
The impromptu briefing ended fast. Officers, analysts and admin staff rushed to get back to their desks. Everyone worked with the same sense of urgency.
Just a few moments later, Evie Charlesworth stood up. Her cheeks were flushed, and she was clutching a printout.
“We’ve got him,” she said. “He used his credit card to order a delivery to an address in the Towers Estate four days ago. Forty-two, Victoria House.”
Tyler reached for the printout and quickly scanned the contents as he reached for the phone on Evie’s desk.
Tyler barked a few instructions down the phone.
After he hung up, he started to dial again, then looked up.
“We’ve got a squad car in the vicinity,” DI Tyler said. “They’re on their way there now. I want you and you…” He jabbed his thumb at Collins and Mackinnon. “…to get over there, too. I need to fill in DCI Brookbank.”
This time Collins and Mackinnon didn’t bother with public transport. Collins checked out a squad car. They pulled out into the city traffic with the sirens blaring.
Collins had taken the advance driving course, but Mackinnon still grabbed the edges of the passenger seat as Collins weaved the car in and out of the rush hour traffic.
“Come on!” Collins slapped his hand on the dashboard. “They can see the sodding lights and hear the sirens, but what do they do? They move about five inches. Tell me, how am I meant to get through that gap?”
Mackinnon didn’t answer. He was busy scrolling through his phone, checking for updates.
Mackinnon glanced at the clock. It had only been half an hour since Lisa Stratton had been seen on CCTV, but Kwame Okoro could have done a lot of damage in thirty minutes.
Mackinnon hoped they weren’t too late.
41
LISA STRATTON SOBBED AS she rested her forehead against the wooden floorboards. How could this be happening to her? It couldn’t be real. It had to be a dream. A nightmare.
He’d tied her up.
Her wrists were bound with blue cable ties and looped around a metal stake buried in the floorboards. Her legs were tied together too, and he had his knee pressing down onto the small of her back, so she was pinned to the ground.
Lisa could hardly move. She sobbed again.
“Shut up,” he said.
She could hear him sharpening the blade. The sound of the knife sliding against stone sent shivers up Lisa’s back, and she sobbed again.
She couldn’t help it.
She should have run as soon as they’d surfaced from the underground station, but it all happened so fast, and then all of a sudden they were in an alleyway, and there was no one else around.
What could she have done? He’d promised to let her go, if she behaved. And she had. She had done everything he’d asked.
“You said you’d let me go,” she sniffed. “You promised.”
“Hmm.” The man chuckled. “Did I really?”
“Yes,” she sniffed.
Her forehead rubbed against the dirty bare floorboards. “You said if I did everything you wanted, you’d let me go. Please. Why are you doing this? I haven’t done anything to you,” she said.
“You’re not thinking straight,” the man said, as he sharpened his knife again. “It’s not what you’ve done to me. It’s what you’ve done to someone else.”
Someone else? Lisa arched her back, trying to turn and face him, but it was no good. His knee had firmly pinned her to the floor.
“What do you mean? I haven’t done anything to anybody.”
“Well, that can’t be true, Lisa.”
The man shifted his position slightly, so he could see her face.
“Look, it’s nothing personal,” he said, and he moved a lock of her hair, tucking it behind her ear almost tenderly.
“Someone paid me to do this, Lisa. Can you guess who it was?”
Someone paid him? The thought rolled around in Lisa’s head, but it didn’t make any sense. Who the hell would want someone to do this to her?
“I tell you what, I’m a fair man,” he said. “If you guess correctly, I’ll let you go.”
“Really?” Lisa said.
She raised her head, suddenly alert, racking her brains to come up with someone she’d annoyed or someone she’d hurt.
Six months ago, she’d broken up with Robert, but that had been a mutual thing. It couldn’t have been him. Maybe someone at work? There had been a data inputter at work who’d expected a promotion, and when it was given to Lisa, she’d been very annoyed… But surely she wouldn’t have gone this far. Not over something as stupid as a promotion.
“Tick tock,” the man said. “Time’s running out.”
“No,” Lisa said, desperately. “Wait! I just need to think. I can’t concentrate when you’re sharpening that knife.”
“Well, you don’t really have any choice,” he said. “Although, I think it might be sharp enough now. What do you think?”
He shoved the blade close to her face, and she recoiled, trying to move backwards, but she couldn’t move. He had her wedged against the floor.
Tears trickled out from the corners of her eyes, making the floor wet beneath her cheek.
“Wait!”
Lisa remembered something. But it had been more than a year ago, surely that couldn’t be it…
And it wasn’t as if Lisa was to blame. He had deserved it.
“Oh dear, time is up,” the man said in that horrible sing-song voice of his.
“No wait,” Lisa said. “I know who it is.”
The man set down the knife. She heard it clunk against the floorboards as it came to rest beside her head.
“Really?” the man asked. “Who do you think it is?”
“I think it’s Bertie, Bertie Lassiter.”
The man chuckled, and Lisa knew she was right.
That bastard. Bertie had been a real creep. He’d been high up in the firm Lisa worked for, and he’d thought it was his God-given right to squeeze the backsides of all the women who worked there. He didn’t even try to be discrete about it, either.
But he’d made a mistake when he’d gone a step too far with Lisa.
He’d trapped her in one of the stationery cupboards and tried to put his hand up her skirt.
Well, the other girls might have taken the harassment, but not Lisa. She’d gone straight to HR and threatened to take legal action.
It had caused a right stink. The girls Bertie had harassed were on her side, of course, all the women in the office were, but the men thought she’d just taken Bertie’s ‘friendliness’ the wrong way. But Lisa stuck to her guns. The management had to do something, or she would take legal action.
Bertie had been furious.
The company wanted to hush up the incident. Bertie might not have been charged with anything, but he lost his job and with whispers in the city being like they were, as far as Lisa knew, he hadn’t got another one.
“I’m right, aren’t I?” she asked him. “It’s Bertie. You said you’d let me go now. Please let me go.”
Lisa started to struggle against her restraints.
The man laughed, and it gave Lisa a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach.
“I was only joking,” he said. “Don’t be silly. Why would I let you go? The five grand will go a long way to pay off my student loans, you know. No offence. It is just money to me,” he said.
“Five grand,” Lisa repeated.
Five measly grand. Was that all her life was worth?
She struggled wildly. “I’ll pay you more than that. I’ve got money,” she said. “I’ve got ten grand in my bank account. Please. I’ll pay you. I promise.”
“Tempting as that offer is,” he said. “I’ll have to turn you down I’m afraid. It wouldn’t be very sensible. As soon as I let you go, you’d go straight to the police, and then I’d be locked up with no money. As you can imagine, that’s not a scenario I’m keen on.”
She heard a scrape against the floorboards as he picked up the knife.
“Oh, God, no. Please. I won’t go to the police. I promise. Please.”
Lisa screamed, and he smacked her head roughly against the floor.
“Stop that,” he said. “It won’t make it any easier.”
He shoved a rag into her mouth.
Between her sobs and the rag blocking off most of her air supply, she was starting to feel light-headed. That was probably a good thing.
She gazed at the wall and she saw the man’s shadow.
He slowly raised the knife, muttering some words Lisa didn’t understand.
Lisa felt str
angely detached from her body.
He wrenched the top of her blouse and she heard the fabric rip as he slashed it with the blade.
Lisa couldn’t get enough air. She was panting.
She shuddered as the cold metallic blade slipped beneath the back of her bra and felt a ping as he cut through the elastic.
Lisa’s whole body was racked with sobs.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “I need to leave a little mark here. It’s my calling card.”
And with a finger, he trailed a line diagonally from her left shoulder blade to her right hip and then from her right shoulder blade to her left hip.
“It’ll only hurt for a moment,” he said.
Lisa screamed, but it was muffled by the rag in her mouth.
She’d never been religious, but right now, she prayed to every God she could think of.
Lisa thought it wasn’t possible to be more scared than she was now, but when the knife pierced the skin on her shoulder, and she felt the sharp cold sting, she screamed and screamed.
As he pulled the knife downwards, the pain grew more intense, until the shock and the pain overwhelmed her and everything faded to black.
She didn’t even hear the commotion at the door.
42
WHEN MACKINNON AND COLLINS arrived at Victoria House, the road leading to the tower block was blocked off by squad cars.
There were four officers hastily erecting cordons on the street outside Victoria House. Mackinnon suspected that more uniformed officers had been stationed at the back of the block of flats to prevent other residents of the Towers Estate getting too close.
They showed their ID, and one of the officers waved the car through.
Collins parked up behind a squad car some distance away from the mayhem.
As they got out of the car, Mackinnon looked around. Who was in charge here? Had the building been evacuated yet?
He saw a group of officers a short distance away, grouped together, having an intense discussion. Mackinnon began to walk towards them. They were discussing a standoff situation. Kwame had barricaded himself in the flat with Lisa Stratton.
There was a shout.
