by Mark Ayre
A valid question. Worth examining. Abbie pushed it away, turned to Gary, nudged him.
"Start talking."
Gary didn't look sure of himself. Didn't look ready to talk, but the glance he gave Abbie indicated he was a little scared of her. That was good. That was more likely than anything to get him to open up.
To encourage this fear, Abbie gave her most menacing eyes. A second later, his resistance crumbled.
“Like I said, I started dealing when I was 12 or 13. I was the lowest of the low back then and I’ve not really climbed the ranks since, but I’ve been around a few years. Over time, you meet people higher up the chain, get a little more responsibility.”
His fingers tangled with each other as he walked—a sign of his nerves. Another sign was the way he continued to look at his boots. More than once, Abbie had to take his arm to ensure he didn't fall off a curb or walk into the road.
“One group runs most the organised crime in town. The owners of the local casino: Lucky Draw. As well as drug dealing they also make money from loan sharks, protection rackets, and a load of other bits. But the thing what makes them the most cash, their main business, is money laundering.”
Gary looked from his feet to Abbie as though expecting so see her face creased with confusion. Actually, it made sense. More and more these days, people were using card and other electronic forms of payment. Fewer people carried cash. Some never used physical money. In such a world, casinos offered the perfect solution for crooks looking to turn dirty, illicitly gained money into usable notes or numbers on a screen.
“So they run their illegal earnings through the casino,” said Abbie, "but also offer laundering as a service for other criminal outfits?”
Gary nodded. "That's their big thing. What they're known for in criminal circles. They've got loads of clients."
This wasn't surprising either. Money laundry was no cakewalk. Easy to get wrong and difficult to set up, and there were only so many cash-heavy businesses to go around. Many criminals making enough money to need it cleaned outsourced the task. With Lucky Draw, it would be simple. A criminal outfit would hand over a lump sum of dirty cash. A representativee of this outfit would then enter the casino as a punter, purchase a small quantity of chips, and head to a specific poker table. They would enjoy an extraordinary run of luck, winning the amount of cash they’d handed to the casino for laundering, minus a commission. A neat system.
"A place like that," Abbie mused, "what with cash on hand plus client money... we could be talking a lot of money on the premises at any given time."
Gary nodded but didn't comment. Abbie considered her statement.
The previous summer, following a police raid that left her daughter imprisoned and her youngest son dead, Margaret Becker had hunted down the traitor who gave the police the location of Margaret's hideout with torture and revenge on her mind.
Unfortunately for mother Becker, Abbie had got in the matriarch's way. There had been an altercation, a disagreement. Always a sad state of affairs but far worse when guns are involved.
Abbie had killed Margaret and her small team.
The police never apprehended Orion, the remaining Becker. Having imprisoned the majority of his crew and seized a huge chunk of the family funds, and with his mother and younger brother dead, the cops were prepared to rest on the laurels of their success. Especially considering they never expected Orion to reemerge.
The day she died, Orion would have learned of his mother's death. But he had never met Abbie, and there was no reason to believe he had discovered it was she who ended Margaret's life. Abbie had never appeared on the Becker radar.
Still, Abbie considered Orion as something of a loose end. She didn't pursue him because that wasn't what she was about. Instead, Abbie used her savings and downtime between missions to compile an extensively researched Becker file. If Abbie ever did encounter Orion, she wanted to be ready.
The file was on Abbie’s phone. Later, she would peruse it again if she had the time. Though she had, as yet, received no confirmation the Orion with which she was dealing was the same Orion whose mother Abbie had killed, it seemed more likely by the minute.
The Becker gang had committed numerous bloodstained armed robberies, hitting both legitimate and illegitimate enterprises. Anything that offered a decent bounty. They were as indiscriminate in picking targets as they were in choosing victims. Old and young, male and female, psycho and saint; the Beckers murdered anyone who stood in their way. And some people who didn’t.
Orion had disappeared. Unlike the police, who had an agenda, Abbie never believed he was gone for good.
Despite the police’s fund seizing efforts, Orion would have access to lockboxes and offshore accounts all over the world. If he never acquired another penny, he'd be comfortable for the remainder of his days.
But from what Abbie knew of the family, money in and of itself had never interested the Beckers. They had lived lives of comfort, never excess. Each job added to the cash stocks. Most of the money they would never spend.
To the Beckers, armed robbery was a game. The cash was how they kept score.
Abbie couldn’t believe Lucky Draw would keep the quantity of cash on site that Orion was used to stealing, but did they have something else that made them of interest to the crook?
Of one thing, Abbie was sure. Orion Becker hadn't been hiding but waiting, always on the look out for the next job. A job that made sticking his head above the parapet and risking slipping onto the police radar worthwhile. A job that would make his mother and siblings proud.
Yes, such an opportunity would be irresistible to the eldest Becker child.
Abbie still couldn’t be sure if the Orion that Smoker had mentioned was Orion Becker. If it was, Lucky Draw seemed like a good bet for his latest target.
Whatever they were holding, Orion would take.
And in true Becker fashion, he’d leave a trail of blood, destruction and grief in his wake.
Seventeen
Soon they turned onto a long empty road leading to a collection of single-story buildings in the distance.
"It was a school," Gary said. "One I went to. Last summer, they closed it. Plan was to shift the land to a supermarket or hotel or something, but so far, no one wants it."
The road was two-lane and empty. Hedges lined either side, spilling over onto what had once been a reasonably sized pavement. Beyond the hedges were open fields, not large, and beyond these more streets and residential areas. Abbie could hear cars and even people, but nothing too close.
Before they could move too far along the road, Abbie took Gary's arm and dragged him towards the bushes. They couldn't conceal themselves within unless they wanted to get shredded by thorns. Instead, they would have to be quick to reduce the chance someone would come along and spot them.
"Your story was fascinating and insightful," Abbie said. "It's helped firm some suspicions in my mind. What it hasn't done is answer my three questions: how is Isabella involved in all this? How do you know she's being kept here? And how many enemies are waiting in that school to murder me or anyone else who arrives?"
Gary looked up the road towards the school. Although he had never slowed down or tried to deviate from his path or even turn back, he had grown noticeably more nervous the closer they came to the buildings ahead.
"I'll tell you what I know," he said. "Then you have to let me go. Okay?"
"No deal," said Abbie. She wasn't against lying, but in this case, it wasn't necessary. Gary was going to answer her questions, whether he liked it or not.
His face crumpled at her response. He didn't cry, but the fear in his expression increased exponentially.
"You don't understand," he said. "You seem like a scary woman who knows what she's doing. I'm nothing. I'm no one. I can't go in there. I just can't."
"Nothing and no one is my tagline," said Abbie. "Your problem is the opposite. You're a person with a family and possibly friends. Maybe hopes and dreams. You're afraid to pr
oceed because you have plenty to lose, and that's understandable. But I don't know you well enough to trust you, so I need to keep you at my side until I know what's going on up there. But you have my word I'll protect you. You seem like a nice kid who's made some bad choices. I don't want to see you come to any harm. Hey, didn't I prove that yesterday?"
Despite these words of comfort, Gary still looked afraid. Of course he did. This was a frightening situation. Abbie was experiencing a little trepidation herself.
Be safe. Come back to me.
And wasn't this precisely what worried Ben and the fabled board of directors? Abbie had told Gary she was nothing and no one; had told Christine she was Miss No One. That was the moniker she had long ascribed to herself, not only because she was a nobody to the people she came to save and the people of the towns they inhabited, but also because she would miss no one if she died. Because she had nobody in her life. That had been her strength. The quality that had allowed her to act without hesitation. Now Miss No One was Miss Someone, at least to Bobby and Alice, and there was at least one person Abbie was afraid of losing. Action was in danger of becoming inaction, as when she arrived at the dealership. She couldn't allow that to happen, and not only because she couldn't stand the thought of Ben being right.
Although that was a troublesome thought in and of itself.
"Talk," said Abbie.
"What?"
"Talk now. Tell me what I want to know before I become mired in self-doubt."
"You have doubt?"
Gary's words trembled. Abbie smacked him around the head.
"Just tell me what I want to know. We haven't got all day. Probably."
Gary was still unconvinced. He wanted to flee, but the look in Abbie's eyes convinced him not to push his luck by attempting again to bargain.
"I don't know who's targeting the casino," he said at last. “But they contacted me a few weeks back and invited me to meet. I only ever saw or spoke to one guy, and he never gave his name."
"Describe his appearance," said Abbie. From her research, she knew what Orion looked like, though they'd never met. But the man Gary described was not the remaining Becker. Instead, he painted a word picture of Smoker, who had yesterday attempted to murder Abbie and who had escaped before she could kill him.
Nodding at Gary’s description, Abbie made no comment but said, "Go on."
"Guy knew I was dealing for Lucky Draw. Wanted to know everything I knew about the place and the people in charge. He never said why."
"But you knew?" Abbie asked.
Gary shrugged. "I guessed. Makes sense they'd want to rob the place, right?”
“Maybe,” said Abbie. “Could you tell them much?”
Gary shook his head. “Only been to the casino once. Never really spent any time with anyone important. He wasn’t happy.”
“I bet,” muttered Abbie. But Smoker must have known Gary was a long shot. He would have started at the bottom—less risk of getting found out by those at the top that way—and worked his way up until he had all the information Orion required. Where the money was kept, where security was lax, who worked when and what nights were the quietest. That sort of thing. But would any quantity of information have been enough information. Or did Orion need something else to ensure his plan ran smoothly.
The compliance of a Detective Inspector, for example. And if he couldn’t find a willing accomplice, how else might he get his way?
Abbie turned towards the school, thinking of Isabella. “When you saw the guy, that was here?” Abbie nodded towards the school.
“Yeah.”
“And he was alone?”
Gary nodded.
Abbie looked up the road, at the school in the distance. It would undoubtedly be an excellent place to hold a kidnapped child. But it was compromised if Gary and other outsiders knew Smoker was operating here. That suggested Isabella was in a second location. But it was as good a place as any to start.
If this was where they were keeping Isabella, Abbie had no doubt she’d need to overcome multiple hostiles to rescue the girl, but she was used to having the odds stacked against her. Being outnumbered did not guarantee her failure any more than a one on one would guarantee success.
“Come on,” she said to Gary, nodding down the stretch of road which led to the school. “No time like the present.”
Hedges rising above their heads on either side, they proceeded towards what was definitely a closed-down school and towards what might also be the makeshift prison for a frightened young girl. Not to mention the HQ of a nefarious Orion—Becker or otherwise.
The greenery encroached onto the pavements. On the left-hand side, Gary took what remained of the path while Abbie walked on the road.
They saw no cars and heard no people in the near vicinity.
They moved slowly, and almost five minutes passed between their conversation ending and reaching the road's end. Here they found a small roundabout used only for easier U-turns after school drop-offs. Before school drop-offs were no longer necessary. Straight ahead, the road became a driveway that led to a house that sat on school property. A bungalow. Small, unassuming. Presumably, the caretaker had lived here. Perhaps the ex-caretaker still did.
Beside the driveway was a path, bordered by trees, which led into the distance. On the left side of the road were three houses, detached, four-bedroom. Abbie hoped no one had moved in a year ago, paying over the odds to get their children as close to school as it was possible to be without sleeping on the premises, only for the school gates to close for good a few weeks later.
The school sat on the right from Abbie and Gary's direction of approach. Beyond the closed gates, a concrete carpark sat before the first of the one-story buildings which had comprised the school.
“Your meeting took place where?" Abbie asked.
"One of the buildings on the far side. An English block, I think."
"Fine," said Abbie. She continued along the road with Gary behind. The roundabout was a brick-made circle topped with dead grass. Abbie was no baker; If she made a cake, it would probably look just like this.
Opposite the roundabout was a low gate, no higher than Abbie's chest and easily scaled if it was locked. Beyond the empty carpark, Abbie examined the buildings that lined the right side of a paved walkway, leading to another block. On the left were one small building and two courts—tennis, rather than legal.
When he'd visited the school, Gary had seen only one man. That didn't mean there hadn't been others nearby, watching, waiting. Even if there hadn't been, that was before Orion's team kidnapped a little girl. The daughter of a policeman, no less. The situation had changed.
Moving away from the roundabout, Abbie approached the gate. From her waistband, she withdrew a gun. Clasping it in one hand, she held it by her side.
The school buildings were window heavy, seemingly more glass than brick or concrete. A bit like the dealership, except there was nothing modern about the architecture here. Even when new, the buildings had no doubt looked old. Now, the school blocks were grubby and worn. They appeared on the verge of collapse from exhaustion. They were close enough together that the demise of one could trigger a domino effect that would lead to the destruction of the rest. Which would at least save someone money on demolition crews, should the council ever manage to sell the land.
Most of the windows were dusty, many were cracked. Still, visibility was adequate. If Orion was keeping Isabella here and had a decent sized team working for him, he might have people hiding in these buildings, keeping watch through the windows, waiting to gun down any trespassers.
“In a minute, we’re going in,” said Abbie. Gary whimpered, but she ignored him. “One more question before we do.”
Abbie kept her eyes on the school. Gary stood behind her but she could almost sense the nerves pouring off him.
“What’s that?” he said.
She wanted to turn. It was important to maintain eye contact when you were afraid someone might lie in answer to yo
ur question. Eye contact made deceit more difficult. But Abbie couldn’t turn, in case she caught sight of the enemy behind one of the school buildings’ windows. Staying alert was vital.
“Why did Ndidi attack you?”
Gary drew a sharp breath but, when he answered, his voice was clear. No chance he hadn’t expected the question. It was natural she would want to know.
“You’ve probably noticed I’m a coward,” he said. Abbie chose not to comment. “Every big decision I make seems to be fear-driven. I started dealing drugs because I was afraid of looking uncool. I couldn’t stop because I was afraid of what Lucky Draw might do to a deserter. I came to find you today because I’m afraid the guilt will crush me if something happens to that little girl. I’m afraid of coming into that school but I will, because I’m even more afraid of you.”
Abbie smiled at this last comment. Didn’t respond, not even to hurry him along because she trusted Gary was building towards an answer.
“That’s important,” he said. “You’re here, so you’re scarier than the kidnappers. I was scared of betraying Lucky Draw but when the guy asked me to rat on them, I did, because he was in front of me, and he was frightening. But I knew it’d come back on me. I knew the guys at Lucky Draw would find out. There are plenty of stories about them… they always find out.”
The smile remained. Abbie knew nothing about the crooks who ran Lucky Draw, but she had dealt with plenty like them. Enough to know there was every chance the stories Gary had heard about those punished for desertion and betrayal were false, put around by the owners of Lucky Draw to ensure the reality of betrayal and desertion never happened. Such propaganda always worked a treat. Bottom-wrung crooks tended to be a nervous, easily frightened bunch. Gary was proof of that.
“And they did find out?” Abbie knew where this was going, but needed to hear Gary say it. Despite the risk, she turned to face the lanky teenager as she asked this final question.
“Oh, I knew. Knew the moment he laid the first punch on me. He didn’t have to say a word,” said Gary. “Not their enforcer. Not Idrissa Ndidi.”
