Beyond The Law Box Set

by Tom Benson

  Annabel’s extensive research gave Phil confidence there would be no security measures. He climbed aboard the Margharita, located the appropriate sections, and got to work. He was content his lookout could handle any minor disturbance.

  It was fifteen minutes later when a disturbance occurred.

  A man in his mid-thirties drove past on the quiet seafront road. He drove back and parked on the road twenty-five metres behind the bench where Annabel was sitting in the moonlight. Two minutes later, the man, who was already dressed in black, pulled on a ski-mask similar to Phil’s. This ski-mask was leather, and crudely embroidered on the forehead; RAPIST.

  The man crept up behind his victim and pulled a knife from inside his jacket. Seeing the fear in his victim’s eyes before he committed the heinous act would intensify the thrill. He crept across the grass area. When he reached the bench, he paused, before stepping in front of Annabel. He held the knifepoint toward her, his breathing became more rapid, and his eyes sparkled in the slits of the mask.

  The clouds thinned, and moonlight illuminated the scene. Annabel’s eyes opened wide, and her lips parted, as her part in the drama dictated.

  “Well aren’t you pretty,” the man said. “I’m going to enjoy this.” He kept the knife raised and pointing at her as he undid his coat. “Make a sound, and I’ll kill you. Stand up slowly, and come into the trees.”

  “Please, don’t hurt me.” Annabel ignored the knife but met the rapist’s stare as she stood. She maintained eye contact with him as she undid the buttons on her coat, and let it fall open. The man’s gaze dropped to her outfit, and he gasped. The buttons of the blouse were undone, and the skirt showed a lot of thigh.

  “Come on you dirty bitch,” he said. He reached for her coat lapel as he waved the knife, and turned briefly to glance left and right into the darkness.

  “No, please,” Annabel said. Instead of following, she continued to watch his eyes and the nervous left and right turn of his head. Annabel made a weak attempt at closing her blouse together but pulled it open.

  The rapist’s gaze was drawn to the impressive cleavage. When the pointed leather toecap embedded itself deep in his groin, he retched, but couldn’t vomit. His eyes closed tight, his mouth fell open, and his body went into spasm as he fell to his knees, and dropped the knife.

  A violent explosion had occurred in his trousers, but it wasn’t the explosion he’d been anticipating. His body trembled, as his core temperature fell, rose, and fell. The man reached down with both hands to explore the area of extreme pain. He opened his eyes and looked up, in time to see the Glock 9mm being slipped from under Annabel’s coat.

  The weapon was held in a single-handed grip, pointing at the man’s face. The predator stared at the business end; mesmerised.

  “Enjoying it, are we?” Annabel drew her right arm back sharply and brought it forward to smash the pistol grip into the mask. A muffled crunching sound from within the leather indicated the rapist’s nose and cheekbone had been shattered. He fell silently to one side.

  It had been the day before when Annabel read about the recent victims from a wide area. On their behalf, she wanted to do more but held back. Instead, she pulled off the blood-soaked mask and went through the rapist’s pockets. No identification.

  He had a set of keys attached to a Nissan fob. Annabel stepped away and pressed the fob. A set of lights flashed on and off twenty-five metres away. She resumed her sentry duties.

  Phil reappeared, pulling off his gloves and ski-mask. As he walked towards Annabel, he cast a glance at the curled up body on the grass. “Is he dead?” Phil said as if asking the time.

  “No, but when he comes around, he’ll wish he was.” She held up the car keys and the leather mask. “Could we pass the gold Nissan on the way?”

  Phil nodded and resisted the temptation to kick the unconscious casualty.

  Annabel left the mask face-up, on the dashboard of the Nissan. She locked the car and dropped the keys into a nearby rosebush.

  Phil and Annabel walked back to the VW together, drove to the slip road near the hotel, and parted to allow Annabel to enter a few minutes before Phil. When he arrived, Phil went straight to Annabel’s room. By 23:43 they’d discussed all business.

  Phil sat on the dressing table stool, and Annabel sat on the end of the bed. After Phil explained what he’d achieved on his task, they made polite conversation for a short while. As had happened in the restaurant earlier, their gaze locked on each other. Phil’s phone buzzed.

  He flicked the Motorola open. “It’s Rachel.”

  .

  Friday 26th July

  Phil approached Annabel in the hotel dining room at breakfast and made a brief scene of asking to join her. It was early, and two other diners were already seated. A pretty waitress witnessed Phil’s approach to Annabel and volunteered to set the table for two. Before she left them, the waitress eyed them both as if seeing something special. The pair delighted in acting like strangers at a first meeting.

  When alone, they enjoyed a hearty meal and found as, during the previous evening, they occasionally held eye contact. Neither committed themselves to voice their thoughts. They both made casual remarks and flirtatious comments about having regular meals together being one step away from using the same room.

  During his six months attachment to the Metropolitan Police in London earlier in the year, Phil had never met a woman socially. He had kept himself to himself and concentrated on upholding his part of the bargain with the authorities. He advised, monitored, and assisted with training, and departed to start his new life. Nothing was considered beyond his plans to tackle the criminal underworld.

  It was a flippant comment by Annabel in more recent times which made him wonder if he could maintain a steady relationship. Annabel had made it clear, she’d been aware of Phil and Stella having an arrangement, as she had referred to it. When Annabel had asked for a call when the arrangement was over, Phil didn’t consider the remark serious, until recently, when they’d experienced moments of awkward silence together.

  Annabel said, “You’re a master on body language and expression, and I hesitate to look at you, but I want to ask a question.”

  “This sounds deep for a breakfast conversation which opened with flirting.”

  “I’ve seen you in action, worked closely with you, and I’d like to know where you stand on forgiveness. There’s no need to answer, but are you capable?”

  A flickering of her eyes and a slight twitch of her sensuous lips had occurred as she fought to ask the question. Were they signs of a small dent in her confidence? She was a competent and self-assured operative.

  “There must be a good reason for you to ask.” Phil lifted his tea. “My immediate reply would be—yes, but all things have levels of acceptance.”

  “I expected a measured response.”

  They finished breakfast in silence.

  Phil was working hard on emotion and sensitivity. He occasionally displayed humour, but it was second nature to show, anger, vengeance, and justice for the weak or mistreated. He was a complex personality. Annabel’s appearance and choices of outfit had caught Phil’s eye, but he was uncomfortable with expressing his feelings.

  Was he capable of forgiveness?

  This special woman had posed a question which suggested fear close to the surface. Had she committed an act in the past? Had she contemplated something, or perhaps put the wheels in motion for an activity planned for the near future?

  Phil automatically considered it was she, who would require his mercy. Could it be a general question? No, she was strong, but something was preying on her mind.

  Jake opened his eyes. The dawn light was glowing in through the skylights illuminating the usually dark recess of the attic. He heard someone breathing heavily and looked around.

  “Good morning, sleepy head.” Rachel’s voice was barely a whisper, which made her sexier than usual. An idea Jake previously considered impossible. She was standing beside the cross-member
s of the roof, using one rafter to grip as she stretched her body and legs.

  In her black cat-suit she was stunning, but stretching herself as she was, gave more definition to the curves and perfection of her body. She continued when it was apparent Jake was awake and staring.

  “What time is it?” Jake asked.

  “It must be 07:30,” Rachel said. “We’ll have to get back down by 08:00.”

  “I thought we were to share the night shift. Did you get any sleep?”

  “No,” she said, “but I catnap. I rested occasionally. You were exhausted, and I wanted to be in a position to react to any disturbance downstairs.”

  “I’m sorry about last night. What will we do about the broken tile down there?”

  “There’s no more to do.” She stopped stretching and stepped back. A constant drip of water was oozing through a bracket and hose on the air-con unit. “I borrowed a couple of your tools last night, and loosened a feed-pipe.”

  “Holy shit,” Jake sat up. “How long has it been dripping?”

  Rachel tilted her head left and right in a comical way. “There’s been a constant leak since 01:00 and the broken tile down below is saturated and disintegrating. The desk, floor and everything within arm’s reach of the desk is soaked.”

  “They’ll figure out somebody has damaged the pipe?”

  “I’ve no doubt they will,” Rachel said, “but we’ll be long gone, and it will be too late.” She stepped forward. “We’ll have done our job, Jake.” She undid the ropes she’d used to lash him to the rafters.

  At 08:30 they were both standing in the Ladies’ toilet, dressed in their suits and gripping their briefcases. Rachel told Jake on how to react if they ran into anybody as they left the toilets. He already knew her plan to get past the security guard.

  Rachel opened the door, removed the ‘Out of Order’ sign, slipped it into her jacket pocket, and let Jake go out to the corridor first.

  Jake stopped when he heard women’s voices coming along the corridor. He looked back into the toilet at Rachel and winked. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise—”

  “Didn’t realise,” Rachel shouted, as she stormed out. “The door has a silhouette of a woman on it—you bloody pervert.” She glanced at the two grinning, middle-aged women who had stopped at the door of an office.

  Rachel stepped close to Jake. “I’m going downstairs to report you to security.” She turned to the women and rolled her eyes.

  The two women looked at the handsome young man and entertained their personal fantasies.

  Downstairs, Jake stood at the staircase to wait for his cue.

  “Excuse me,” Rachel said, as she approached the security man. She lifted the side of her mini-skirt, showing an expanse of creamy white thigh. “I’ve caught my skirt on a nail around there.”

  The middle-aged man’s gaze was drawn to the shapely leg, and he licked his lips. He didn’t notice Jake leaving the building.

  “I’m sorry Miss,” the guard said. “If you’d like to leave some details—”

  “I’ve got an appointment. What’s your name?”

  “Alan Reynolds, I can—”

  “I’ll be back at lunchtime, Alan,” Rachel said and stormed out of the place.

  The teammates walked downhill for five minutes, until they were clear, and turned right onto Renfield Street.

  “Are you okay, Jake?”

  He was leaning against a building. “I’ll be fine,” he said. “I think I pulled my binding on the way down the rope. What are we up to now?”

  “Now, we go into a fast-food place on Argyle Street and have breakfast. While we’re in there, we take turns to freshen up, okay?”

  “Sounds great,” he said. “You were fantastic back there.”

  “Reading a man’s mind is easier than reading a newspaper.”

  “When is our meeting?”

  “There’s a team de-brief at the lockup at 10:00, but we’ll go most of the way by bus.” She paused. “I thought perhaps we should jog out to the lockup.”

  Jake’s expression left Rachel helpless with laughter.

  While Rachel and Jake were enjoying breakfast, they quietly discussed their mission. Rachel made a point of saying how well she thought it had gone, even with the unforeseen issue of the broken tile. She stressed to Jake it was essential to have the confidence to deal with any situation—especially the unplanned.

  While they were chatting, a couple entered the place talking louder than necessary, and messing the staff around with their order, changing their minds and generally being unruly.

  Rachel lifted out her notebook and grinned as she wrote her message.

  Jake said, “Has something come to mind?”

  “You could say it has.” She continued writing.

  A few minutes later as they were leaving, Rachel paused at the table, where the loud young man and his girlfriend were sitting. The girl had face piercings, and her hair was in a ponytail. Neither Baseball Cap nor Ponytail remembered Rachel.

  “I promised you this last week.” Rachel said. She left the folded note with Baseball Cap.

  As Rachel and Jake stepped out of the place, they heard Ponytail shouting.

  “What does it fucking mean—you were like a wild thing?”

  26. More Surprises

  At 09:55 Phil prepared four coffees and pulled up a folding chair. One minute later, a light knock sounded on the curtain door.

  “I’ll get it.” Annabel checked her watch as she went to the door.

  They all said their good mornings while Rachel and Jake removed their jackets and produced their notebooks.

  “Rachel,” Phil said, inclining his head towards her.

  Rachel said, “I used Wednesday to conduct a recce of the offices, checked out the manufacturer of the PIR alarm system, and performed a rehearsal of attic entry and exit. It was easier because it’s an older building.”

  Jake’s brow furrowed. He had been unaware of some of Rachel’s preparation.

  Rachel continued. “I picked up information from a five-minute chat with a security guard, and one of the office clerks.” She paused. “I went to a hardware store and the library, to check out types of equipments and safe power cut timings.”

  Phil and Annabel sat in silence, nodding to urge their associate to continue.

  “The mission went well when you consider Jake’s injury.” Rachel nodded to her teammate. “Our greatest challenge was created by the broken computer.” She placed a hand on Jake’s thigh. “Harry Houdini here did a great job and got me access to cabinets before he worked on his task. I gave you guys the two-minute call last night, in case we were compromised by our minor issue.”

  “You did right to call,” Phil said. “How did you deal with the tile incident?”

  Rachel explained briefly and received nods of approval.

  “I’m afraid I didn’t get much in the way of names, but one thing stood out.” She opened her notebook. “The people he represents must pay well because Mr MacDonald appears to have a maximum of thirty clients.” She checked her notes. “From the names you gave me, I located Hartley, Cameron, Smith, Flannigan, O’Connor, McSherry, and Barnes. The last three, of course, are all now deceased.”

  “Good work Rachel, I’m proud of you,” Phil said. “Jake.”

  “I don’t have as much, because I was a support act.” He smiled at Rachel. “As Rachel said, we were tight on time, but we believe the safe contents are important.”

  Phil said, “Don’t reproach yourself, Jake. In different operations, we have to adapt and overcome—learn to accept different roles.”

  “I suppose I was feeling sorry for myself.” Jake continued. “The safe contained wads of cash.” He glanced at Rachel. “Maybe ... £150,000?”

  Rachel nodded.

  “The documents were peculiar,” Jake said. “I found eight passports, but between them, they had four names; Hartley, Flannigan, Metcalfe and MacDonald.” He glanced at his notes. “Each of the four names had a passpor
t registered in a country called Kentobi, in Africa. Their other passports were registered in the Republic of Ireland.”

  Phil’s smile disappeared at the mention of Kentobi.

  “I found two files,” Jake said. “They were like the ones Rachel located in the cabinets, but the two in the safe were for Hartley and Metcalfe.” He shook his head. “I wasn’t sure if they were significant?”

  “It’s close to the jackpot mate,” Phil said. “Did the files have contact addresses?”

  “Hartley’s had Balquhidder, and Metcalfe’s had Chatham. Neither had a postal address.”

  Rachel nudged Jake and winked at him.

  “It’s all I got,” Jake glanced at Rachel, “except for my foot—”

  Phil held his right hand up, palm facing Jake. He was silenced.

  “Well done, mate,” Phil said. “It was a good night of teamwork.” He turned to Annabel.

  Annabel said, “You both know different levels of info about Flannigan. As with everything we discuss, this is to be kept within the team.” She received a nod from both. “We now know he transports the sex-slaves in from Europe and beyond.” She glanced at Jake. “We suspect he gets the first choice from each cargo to fulfil his own desires. He’s lower than dog-shit.”

  Phil said, “Flannigan’s days are numbered—and they don’t reach double figures.” His phone buzzed, and he glanced at the screen. He waved for Annabel to continue before he went around to the front of the van.

  “Hello,” Phil said. “When could you get up here, mate?” He considered the options. “Yes, it would be great to have your help.” The next snippet from Dave Carter caused Phil to inhale deep. Codename Chameleon was in Scotland. Dave heard the name while on a mission briefing, but no location details were known.

  Phil made his way back to the others and gulped down his coffee before he realised Annabel had finished talking. Phil turned to each of them in turn. His mind was elsewhere.