by Jack Probyn
‘Sit down,’ he told Candice.
‘Why?’
‘Because I told you to.’
‘You’re not going to hurt me, are you?’
‘Not directly.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Danny turned to Michael, then gesticulated with his finger, beckoning him over. Michael removed the piece of plastic sheeting protecting the device. At the sight of what was beneath it, Candice’s eyes widened, and her mouth fell open. The colour ran away from her cheeks, and she shuddered.
Perfect, Danny thought – it was the same reaction Luke and Michael had given when he’d introduced them to the idea of it.
‘What… What is it?’ Candice asked, lowering herself to the floor; beside her, Luke pushed the man to the ground. He fell and landed hard on his shoulder, letting out a monstrous groan as he coiled on the ground. Danny paid him little heed; he had no need for the man, but he wasn’t in the mood to kill him and give him any more attention than he deserved. The Good Samaritan could wait with Candice.
Returning his attention to Michael, Danny took the device from his brother and felt the immediate strain in his bicep.
‘This… is a spike collar.’ He opened the mechanical lock and snapped it shut; it closed with a frightening crack.
‘What does it do?’
‘It fits round your neck. It should be a nice and snug fit. There’s a countdown inside. And four locks. Each lock requires a key. The keys are scattered around the place – if you can find them and remove the device before the countdown finishes, you’ll live. If not, the tiny charge inside this’ – Danny knocked on the rectangular box of metal connected to the collar of the device – ‘will spring ten spikes into your neck and kill you instantly.’
Candice’s body tightened. His invention was having its desired effect. This was going to be his final moment of evil. The part that everyone would remember The Crimsons for. This callous, destructive device that would impart doom on the bearer. It was genius.
He was a genius.
‘Please,’ Candice said, her fingers clawing at the smooth surface of the marble flooring, searching for grip. ‘No. There must be something else. Some other way. What do you want? Money? I have loads. Just take it. All of this stuff may look like a load of shit to you, but I promise you it holds its value. Take it now. Keep it. Sell it in a few years’ time and you’ll have hit the lottery. Please don’t do this. I’ve got children. They depend on me.’
Danny smirked behind the mask.
‘You don’t get it, do you? It’s too late. Soon, you’ll be just as famous as us. You’ll be the one people make documentaries about. Your face will be on the news. You’ll be an icon – along with us. The final member of The Crimsons. Maybe they’ll call you The Faceless Crimson because they won’t even be able to identify you when that thing detonates. No one will know who we are, but they’ll know you, and they’ll know your name for all the wrong reasons.’
‘B-But… do you not want them to know yours as well?’
‘Did Jack the Ripper want people to know who he was? We want to be bigger than that. Bigger than him. We want to create a legacy. And you’re going to play your part.’
Danny snapped his fingers, and Michael took the collar bomb from him and stuck the device around Candice’s neck. She screamed and tried to wriggle away as Michael sealed the device shut, but her efforts were futile against the man who outweighed her two to one. Once the device was clamped around her neck, the corners of Danny’s mouth rose.
‘Don’t panic. You’ll have help soon – providing they can do their job properly and get here in time.’
Candice’s chest heaved, the metal plate rising up and down against her breast.
‘We’ll make it easy for you,’ Michael said, crouching down by her side. He reached inside his pocket, removed a piece of paper and handed it to Danny.
‘The clue for the first key is written on here. The location for the others will be revealed as you discover the rest of them. Read the clues and decide for yourself whether it’s worth the risk of going alone or waiting for the officers of the law to help you.’
Danny passed the letter to Candice, who inspected it for a beat. While she looked at the paper, Danny gave the signal to Luke, and at once his younger brother disappeared deeper into the mansion, climbing the steps behind Candice.
‘How long?’ Candice asked, raising her head.
‘Till the boys in blue arrive?’
‘No.’
‘Until it detonates?’
Candice’s expression remained impassive.
‘You’ll just have to wait and find out.’
Out the corner of his eye, Luke returned. At the sight of him, Danny rose to his feet, picked up the tarpaulin from the floor and ordered his brothers to leave the house. They had done it. Now all they needed to do was to get out of there without being seen or arrested, and then head south, where, in a matter of hours, they’d be free.
CHAPTER 10
INTUITION
Back at Mount Browne, Jake had been afforded a small opportunity to empty his bowels while the rest of the office continued with the investigation. It was in its infancy, and right now everyone was set on ascertaining as much information as possible. Who was behind the attack. Where they went. Who saw what. When Jake returned to his desk, his body and mind feeling clearer, he found Danika sitting at her desk, eyes glued to the computer screen. Apparently, in the time that he’d been gone, she’d been given a series of tasks to do.
‘They were looking for you, but I didn’t know where you were,’ she said quickly before returning her attention to the computer screen.
How long was I in there?
‘Who did you speak to?’ he asked.
‘Can’t remember. Sorry.’
Either she was being an arsehole deliberately, or she genuinely had no idea. In this instance, he decided to give her the benefit the doubt.
‘Maybe try Bridger,’ she said. ‘He seems to know what’s going on.’
Yes. He would do that. But first, there was something on his mind. Something that sitting on the toilet had allowed him time to think about.
As Jake opened his mouth to speak, an officer brushed past him, rushed down the corridor and made a right turn into the kitchen. Returning his attention to Danika, he kept his voice low, and said, ‘Can I talk to you about something?’
Danika sighed viciously. He wondered if that was the way she treated her children. ‘Is it important? I’m busy.’
‘I think it is.’
Danika dropped her pen and took her other hand off the mouse, giving him her undivided attention. Jake cleared his throat and stole a glance at the rest of the office before beginning. There was no one else within earshot.
‘I was doing some thinking,’ he said. ‘This all sounds a bit too familiar to me. The van. The red overalls. The guns. Even the heist in the first place.’
Danika’s face remained impassive, as though he were talking to a brick wall – it was clear she didn’t appreciate him wasting her time like this.
‘I don’t think this was any old robbery. I think it might have been done by The Crimsons.’
Jake felt a slight weight lift from his shoulders. It was something he’d considered ever since he’d recognised the men in the van. Those faces. Those eyes. Ones that had given him many restless nights in the past.
Danika scoffed. ‘Convenient.’
‘Excuse me?’
She swivelled on her chair. ‘First day here and look who chooses to rob a jewellery store at the same time.’
Jake stared at her in disbelief. He perched himself on her desk and leant closer, resting his left arm on top of her computer screen. As he neared her, he caught a vague whiff of her perfume. Jo Malone. One of Elizabeth’s favourites. Back when they’d been students relying on loans as their only source of income, he’d bought a bottle for her birthday. Since then, the realities of adult life and their ever-struggling finances had pro
hibited them from treating themselves to such luxuries. It was something he hoped to change in the near future.
‘You think I don’t realise how strange it is? It’s just too much of a coincidence.’
Danika shrugged, instantly dismissing him. She didn’t give him the middle finger, but she might as well have. And he felt like giving her one too. Why didn’t she believe him? The signs were there. The entire process was the same as their previous heists – he’d studied them fastidiously after what had happened last time, and he knew them inside out – better than they knew themselves. First, they started their raids at 9 a.m., when the jeweller’s and banks had just opened and were less likely to be busy. Second, there were three of them, dressed in red overalls and wearing devil masks. Third, they were carrying firearms, and fourth, they’d been in and out within a few minutes. Textbook.
The only deviations from their norm had been the shooting of the employee and the abduction of the branch manager. Those aside, he was almost certain in his estimations.
Jake propelled himself from Danika’s desk and moved towards the kitchen. He’d just seen Bridger hurrying inside. The man was fetching a snack from one of the kitchen cupboards above the fridge.
‘Jake,’ Bridger said, sounding both happy to see him and stressed at the thought of what Jake was about to distract him from. ‘Everything all right?’
‘There’s something I wanted to talk to you about,’ he began.
‘Can it be quick?’
Jake swallowed. Paused. Explained his theory.
Bridger set the packet of rice cakes on the counter and rested against it, moving his gaze away from Jake and focusing it on the sink on the other side of the kitchen. ‘Why didn’t you say anything earlier?’ he asked.
‘Because… because…’
Jake didn’t know why. Perhaps it was because of everything else going on inside his head. The first day nerves. The little daughter he had currently in the doctor’s surgery being tested for pneumonia. Maybe it was because he needed time to figure it out in his head, solidify the connections in his mind. Or perhaps it was because he was at risk of embarrassing himself by offering crazy suggestions. What did he know? He was just a temporary detective constable. In the grand scheme of things, he was still wearing nappies in comparison to some of the other minds in the office.
Bridger shimmied himself away from the counter and wandered up towards Jake. He placed a hand on his shoulder. That same feeling of being transported back to when he was fifteen again rolled over him.
‘It’s a good theory,’ Bridger began, ‘but nobody’s seen them for years. I don’t think it’s a terrible idea, but right now that’s not what we’re focusing on. I’ll raise it with DCI Pemberton, and we can put it on the back-burner, OK? Leave it with me.’
Nice try, son. Nice try. Good effort. But you can’t win them all. His father’s attempt at consoling him echoed through his head.
Jake felt slightly dazed as he sauntered back to his desk. Questioning himself was something he’d never had to tackle before, and it wasn’t a pleasurable experience. It wasn’t until he was at his desk that he realised the entire department had disappeared and was standing in the Horseshoe. Last to know, last to be involved – again. Even Danika was in there, climbing higher and higher. Soon, she’d be out of reach and would have claimed the championship title.
Jake slowly filtered in, standing in the doorway, out of the way and out of sight.
‘Right, team,’ Pemberton began after acknowledging his arrival with a quick unimpressed glance, ‘I trust you all know your positions and what your roles are throughout this investigation by now. And if you don’t, then I want you to speak to DI Murphy – he’s in charge when I’m not. We’re now treating this as a critical incident and Category A+ murder investigation. Bridgewater Jewellers is the location of the incident. At 09:03 this morning it was raided by a group of armed robbers. They’ve shot and murdered a civilian, IC1, and have abducted another – our second Nominal One, Candice Strachan.’
‘Make that two abductions, ma’am,’ someone from the other side of the Horseshoe called out, their hand raised. ‘More reports are coming in that a middle-aged man was thrown into the back of the van with Candice Strachan.’
Pemberton nodded. ‘Do we have a name for our second hostage?’
‘Roger Heathcote.’
‘Right… one confirmed fatality, two abductions. We can’t let that number get any higher, guys. Whoever’s the researcher in the team, I want you to create a victimology report on Candice Strachan in as much detail as you can. Why have they abducted her? Find out who she is, where she lives, what her skills are, education, qualifications, marital status, any relationships she might have, kids she doesn’t know about, what she does for fun, whether she’s ever had an STI in her life – I want to know everything about her.’ Pemberton paused to catch her breath. ‘Then we’re going to need ANPR on the registration for the vehicle they were abducted in, and any CCTV footage we can get our hands on. As soon as we get a hit, I’m coming with you all on the ground – I want to make sure Candice Strachan and Roger Heathcote are returned to their friends and families safely.’
Before Pemberton continued, another officer raised her hand. She stood, juggling several documents. ‘Ma’am,’ she said, ‘preliminary reports are coming in on Candice Strachan. That file from the jeweller’s is a gold mine.’
‘What does it say?’ Pemberton urged.
The officer cleared her throat then continued, ‘Years ago, she had a couple of stints as an actress. Performing in plays and all that sort of stuff. Says here that her next of kin is her husband, an art dealer, but a quick check on his name shows that he died a couple of years ago from a heart attack and left everything to her in his will. He had some sort of investment in Bridgewater Jewellers, and eventually she bought the company out and now owns it.’
‘Bet that was a comfortable inheritance fund,’ DI Mark Murphy jibed. He stood with his arms folded, and as he said it, he swivelled on the spot and glanced at Jake, a smile on his face. Jake didn’t know why he’d looked over to him, but he didn’t reciprocate.
‘All right, Mark, that’s enough,’ Pemberton snapped, immediately stifling any disturbance that the comment was likely to provoke. She gazed around the Incident Room and waited until there was complete silence before continuing. ‘While you’re trying to find her, I want a small unit dedicated to focusing on her husband too. He might have pissed someone off in the past and they’re coming to collect an old debt. Also, it’s worth checking out Candice Strachan’s financial history. Whether she’s run out of money in the past. Whether she’s done anything corrupt or has any dodgy dealings outstanding.’
‘What are you insinuating, ma’am?’ Murphy asked.
‘Insurance fraud. She might be overdue on payments, and with an elaborate robbery like this, she’ll get an insurance payout that’s second to none. That’ll clear any debts she’s got outstanding and then some.’
Murphy shook his head. ‘It’s quite sophisticated—’
‘But then the ones that always pass under our noses are,’ Pemberton interrupted.
In the distance, the double doors to the Major Crime Team area opened, and a few seconds later, a woman wearing a blazer appeared in the Incident Room’s door frame. She looked flustered, and her exasperated breath echoed over the silence that had befallen them. In her hand she held a piece of paper.
‘Ma’am, had a ping on an ANPR camera. It matches the vehicle reg used in this morning’s robbery. And we’ve had more eyewitnesses reporting seeing it on the road, driving erratically,’ she explained as she handed the sheet to Pemberton.
‘Where?’ Pemberton asked, still keeping her gaze fixed on the officer.
‘Farnham.’
‘Where’s that in relation to?’
‘Candice Strachan’s house is just down the road from the ANPR ping, ma’am.’
CHAPTER 11
THE INSTRUCTIONS
As soon
as the front door creaked shut, Candice dropped the paper to the floor and her body convulsed. Her breathing sped up, rapidly filling her brain with oxygen until the room began to spin, left and right, left and right, left and right, the sensation unrelenting. The metal collar around her neck drowned her, its weight pushing down on her chest. The sharp, coarse edges of the metal from where it had been poorly cut dug into her flesh and reminded her, with each passing second and each exasperated breath, that it was there, suffocating her, asphyxiating the oxygen in her brain, waiting to pounce and spring into action. Her fingers clawed at the collar in a weakened attempt to alleviate the pain and pressure of it wrapped around her throat, but it was no use.
It was settled. She was going to die.
Then she closed her eyes and tried to control her breathing, tried to calm her nerves and staunch the overflowing emotions and thoughts bursting from her brain. But they wouldn’t stop. And in no time at all the nausea returned with a vengeance. Candice rotated to the side and projectile vomited on her mansion floor, the orange liquid spreading across the white and great-streaked stones. It dirtied the collar and some of her clothes, though the latter was the least of her worries.
For a moment, she toyed with the idea of fainting, of allowing the veil of unconsciousness to descend over her and drag her down so she wouldn’t have to face her imminent death anymore. But did she want that? No. Of course not. She had a family. She had a life. She had children. She didn’t want to imagine how they’d react if they heard their mother had died after being impaled by ten spikes. Worse, she didn’t want to imagine how they’d react after they found out that she’d done nothing about it; that she’d sat idle; that she’d died defenceless.
No. She wasn’t going to let this thing defeat her.
Candice rolled onto her shoulder and lifted herself to her feet. But the stranger inside her house had already beaten her to it. The man was half-standing, his arms flailing as he clawed at the ground, trying to find a grip on the smooth surface. As their eyes locked on one another, he charged towards the front door.
