by C J Carver
I nearly jumped out of my skin when my phone rang.
DI Gilder.
‘I’m at your cottage.’ He spoke through gritted teeth, obviously furious I wasn’t sitting around waiting for him.
‘I’m on my way,’ I told him. ‘Five minutes max.’
‘Jesus,’ he muttered.
I drove home without bothering to look and see if I was being followed. Did it matter if everyone knew where I was? When I got to the cottage, DI Gilder was sitting in his car, a scowl on his face. The second I pulled up, he was outside and standing next to my door.
I said, ‘Thanks for com–’
‘Fucksake,’ he interrupted. ‘Your wife’s been kidnapped and you’re dicking me around?’
‘Sorry. But I had to check a PO box in case Rob had left a message there for me.’
At that, his eyes widened. ‘Has he?’
‘No.’ But he left a Glock 19, stamped with Austria and 9 x 19 on its side.
‘So, what gives?’ He walked to my front door. I followed.
Inside, I quietly showed him the bug beneath the kitchen stool before turning on the Sonos system and then walking him into the garden, where I brought him up to speed. I showed him the photographs I’d been sent, told him about the bugs my wife had planted. I told him everything, except the fact I had a pistol in my glovebox.
‘Dear God,’ he said when I finished. He was staring at the photographs, almost as though he’d seen a ghost. ‘I had no idea.’
He looked across at me, expression penetrating. ‘Your wife is sure the dead woman with Tony Abbott is Rachel Daisley?’
‘As sure as she could be.’
‘And Rachel was her spy in the Mayfair Group.’ He sucked his teeth, looking pensive. ‘Jesus. This case has twice as many heads as Medusa.’
‘Tell me about it,’ I said wearily.
‘Where’s Rachel Daisley’s body?’
‘I asked George Abbott, but he wouldn’t say.’
‘You did what?’ He looked startled.
I’d forgotten to tell him about the Saint collecting me and taking me to his lair. I quickly filled Barry in.
‘He showed you his comics?’
I nodded.
‘Christ.’
Barry studied the photograph of the murdered woman, turning it from side to side as though he wanted to find another angle to the scene. ‘I’ll check all our Jane Does for that period. But I doubt we’ll find a match. Abbott’s probably buried her ten-foot deep in his back garden.’
I saw Barry flinch as his phone buzzed. He looked at the screen and frowned.
‘Gilder,’ he said.
When the person replied, he straightened up and looked straight at me, blinking in surprise.
‘How did you get my number?’ he demanded. His eyes remained on mine as he said, ‘Yeah, yeah… okay.’ He listened for a bit. Then he said, ‘Okay,’ again.
He held the phone out to me.
I raised my eyebrows. ‘Who is it?’
‘Your brother.’
Chapter 61
‘Hey, Nick,’ said Rob. ‘My man.’
‘Christ,’ I gritted into the phone. ‘You have no idea. I’ve been going crazy trying to get hold of you…’
‘I’m here now.’ He sounded laid-back and relaxed. ‘Fire away, big brother. See what I can do.’
A surge of hot rage tore through me.
‘Okay, little brother.’ My tone could have stripped paint. ‘See if you can sort this: find Susie and rescue her from George Abbott, who happens to have kidnapped her and will kill her unless I deliver you to them. Oh, in case you’ve forgotten, Susie is my wife.’
Silence.
‘Shit,’ he said.
‘Yes, shit.’
‘Tell me what’s happened.’ He dropped all bonhomie and was brusque.
Having just run Gilder through everything, this second telling took much less time as I concentrated on the salient facts. When I finished, he said, ‘I’m on my way.’
I was opening my mouth to ask how long he’d be, how he knew Barry Gilder’s telephone number, but he’d hung up.
To my astonishment, Rob turned up barely ten minutes later. Not at the front door, but at the back, where he’d climbed over my neighbour’s wall and crossed my garden.
‘Where have you come from?’ I asked.
‘Mum and Dad’s.’
‘You’re kidding me.’
‘I haven’t been staying there all the time.’ He looked defensive. ‘Just on and off a bit. They smuggle me in and out in the boot of their car.’
‘Jesus.’
‘Come on. Time’s ticking. We need to rescue your wife, correct?’
I led the way into the kitchen area. I was moving to the stool to show him the bug but he got there first. He said, ‘I put that there.’ He snapped the device free and popped it in his pocket.
I could feel my eyes bulge.
‘As a precaution,’ he added, as though that was all the explanation I needed, and I was opening my mouth to demand Why and say What the fuck, but my mobile rang. I snatched it up.
Number unknown.
‘Hello?’
‘Hello, artist.’
My mouth was dry. Rob crowded close. I let him listen.
‘Where’s your brother?’ the Saint asked.
‘Close.’
‘I need him, artist.’
‘And I need Susie.’
‘You agree to a swap,’ he said.
I looked at Rob, heart clenched. He gave a nod.
‘Okay,’ I said.
‘Here’s what I want you to do. You’re going to put your brother in your car and drive him to the coordinates I text to your phone. You will follow the directions without stopping, without deviating. I have put a real time tracker on your car so I will know straight away if you try to pull any tricks. If you remove the tracker, or if I get so much as a whiff you’re trying to cross me, or even thinking about calling the police, sweet little Susie dies.’
Heart thumping, I said, ‘I’m not sure if Rob will come with me.’
‘Then you’ll have to persuade him.’ His voice was hard.
My legs felt weak. I put out a hand and gripped the kitchen worktop, trying to steady myself.
‘Let me speak to Susie.’
‘No.’
‘I need proof of life or I won’t contact Rob. I won’t give him up unless I know for sure Susie’s okay. Surely you can understand that.’
Small silence.
‘Oh, all right.’ He gave a sigh as though bored. ‘I can see your point.’
There were some muffled sounds, men speaking. Then Susie said, ‘Nick? Is that you?’
She sounded surprisingly strong, her voice clear.
‘I’m coming to get you,’ I told her.
‘Have you rung the Office?’
‘No, not…’
‘Don’t.’
‘What?’
‘If you do, Abbott will vanish me. There will be no evidence. Everything will be hearsay.’
I swallowed. ‘Okay.’
‘Don’t be too long,’ she said, and although I knew she meant it to be a dry remark, sarcastic, her voice wobbled.
I could hardly bear it.
‘Hang tight, Susie,’ I told her. ‘We’re coming. We’ll get you out of there.’
‘We’ve moved.’ She spoke fast. ‘Two-hour drive, now in a foresters’ hut, four of them, seen three pistols, one shotgun – No, stop! No!’
Sounds of a scuffle came down the line. Susie kept shouting, No, no! Her voice was laced with rising panic.
‘George!’ I yelled. ‘For God’s sakes!’
‘I can’t trust her,’ he snapped. ‘She needs hobbling.’
I heard a soft thunking sound, like a log wrapped in cloth being dropped on the floor. Then the sound came again. I heard Susie scream, a sound that came from a place of terror and shock, and which drove a black spear in my heart.
‘George!’ I shouted. ‘Stop!’
In the background, I could hear Susie whimpering, small involuntary sobs jerking from her throat. She was saying, Oh God, oh God, oh God.
‘What have you done to her?’
‘Made sure she’s out of action.’
‘What have you done?’
‘Tommo used a piece of four by four he found behind a workbench.’
I was breathing so hard I thought I might hyperventilate. ‘What?’
‘He broke her arm. Ooooh, look at that. It’s already swelling. There’s quite a bit of blood too. And I can see some bone poking through the wound. It looks nasty, so you’d better hurry, artist, before it turns septic.’
Susie’s whimpers turned to groans. Sick dirty groans that made my stomach loop and curl.
‘Texting you now,’ he said. ‘You’ve got two hours.’
He ended the call.
I rang him back, but he didn’t pick up and nor did it switch to any messaging service. It simply rang out. I was trembling and shuddering, nausea lodged against my ribs. A ting alerted me to a text. A Google map showed a bright blue pin in north London, just inside the M25. I expanded the map to see the pin was placed plum in the middle of a vast area of dense ancient woodland, grassland, heath, rivers and bogs.
My heart fluttered.
‘Epping Forest.’
Chapter 62
I knew why the Saint had chosen Epping Forest. He may have his posh house in the Home Counties, but he was an East End man, and the area was his spiritual turf. I had no doubt he was familiar with every track and trail, every remote meeting spot, every isolated and inaccessible area in which to bury dead bodies.
Epping Forest was synonymous with dead bodies. It was a dumping ground. A disposal site. Only the previous month a body had been found partially buried near a lake. A walker had seen dozens of rats scurrying around the trees and when he’d investigated further, found a decomposing body.
Nobody knew how long it had been there.
Heart knocking, I said, ‘They’ve hurt her. Really badly.’
‘I heard,’ Rob said, his face taut. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘I have to go to her.’ I gave him a searching look. ‘Will you come with me?’
‘Of course.’ He looked shocked I should ask.
‘But what about when we get there? Are you actually willing to trade yourself for Susie?’
‘I’d rather not.’ He gave a twisted smile. ‘I’m hoping we’ll find another way.’
‘He wants you, Rob.’
‘I know.’ He suddenly looked exhausted. ‘He’s relentless. I didn’t kill Tony, but he won’t ever believe me.’
I gave Rob a long, searching look. As he looked back, a light ignited at the back of his eyes. A light I remembered, which flared at whatever gauntlet that had been thrown down. It was the look of a fighter, a bit of a lunatic if I was honest, and quite scary once he got the bit between his teeth.
‘Fuck him,’ he said. His gaze became clear and strong, decisive. He grinned, showing twin rows of strong white teeth but his eyes were cold and hard. ‘Let’s do it. Get your wife back and kick George Abbott’s arse into the stratosphere and beyond.’
He clapped a hand on my back and I felt a surge of energy and optimism flow through me. I moved, grabbing my car keys and striding for the front door.
‘Wait.’
Barry Gilder forced me to a stop. I struggled not to push past him. Tried to get my brain to work but it was slow, moving through the sludge of wanting to do nothing but rescue my wife.
Barry said, ‘Time to call reinforcements. It’s gone too far.’
Panic filled me. ‘But he’ll kill her if he thinks the police are involved. She told me not to ring her work colleagues either, or he’ll vanish her.’
‘It’s all about timing,’ Barry went on. ‘If I get it right, Abbott will arrive at the RV point and find it empty. Because it will be empty. He’ll be in place, waiting for us and thinking he’s all alone, but the police will be creeping up on him in the shadows.’
Susie said she trusted Barry Gilder, but I wasn’t so sure.
‘I won’t ring them until we get close,’ Barry said. ‘But we need them, Nick. I don’t want the Saint killing your brother, let alone anyone else.’
I stepped outside last. Set the alarm. I expected Rob to join us in the car, but he said, ‘I have something to do first. Five minutes max.’
Disbelief warred with mistrust.
‘I won’t let you down.’ He gripped my arm, gave it a shake. ‘I’ll follow you. We’ll keep in touch by phone.’
My neck itched. I didn’t like being separated.
‘Did you get the gift I left you in the PO box?’ He gave me a meaningful look.
‘Er…’ I glanced at Barry then back. ‘Yes.’
‘Bring it with you.’
‘Is that where you’re going?’ I asked, eyebrows raised. To get a gun?
‘Yup.’
I couldn’t argue with that. Not when the Saint had three pistols and a shotgun. Nerves pinging, I watched Rob jog away.
True to his word he wasn’t gone long, and he returned driving Dad’s trusty old Discovery, filled to the brim as usual with sailing kit, everything covered in piles of dust sheets. Rob gave me the thumbs up and a tiny part of me breathed a sigh of relief.
I drove. Barry sat in the passenger seat. I took the A27 towards Arundel then picked up the A29 to head north-east for London and the M23, then the M25. I swept anti-clockwise along the London Orbital, trying not to speed, trying not to draw attention to myself, but I couldn’t seem to keep my speed down. I’d drop to seventy mph and within minutes I’d be doing ninety. Cool it, I kept telling myself. You don’t want to get stopped by the police. You’ve got a gun in the glovebox, remember?
I glanced in my rear view mirror to see Dad’s bottle-green Discovery keeping tag not far behind me. We’d given Rob the coordinates the Saint had sent me and agreed I’d slow down if necessary, to make sure Rob was with us before we reached our destination, but he was no slouch behind the wheel and no matter what I did or how fast I went, he stayed with us.
‘Twenty miles to go.’
Ahead, the motorway ran like a black ribbon through monochrome countryside. On either side were damp fields of mud and acres of standing water. Handfuls of wet looking farm animals slumped together in miserable groups. The sky was looming grey, and threatening rain. Barry sat quietly next to me.
I counted the junctions down. Thirty. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight.
‘Exit’s in ten miles,’ I told them.
I heard a snicking sound from beside me. I turned to see Barry Gilder priming a handgun. Where the hell had that come from?
‘Is that thing legal?’ I asked. Unlike other forces around the world, British police weren’t armed unless they were part of a firearms unit, and I was pretty sure Barry was just a plain old detective, and not allowed a gun.
He sent me a flat gaze. ‘Do you care?’
My gut said, sod it. Things were out of my control. Why quibble about guns when I had one too? My gaze went to the glovebox. What had Susie said? Four of them, seen three pistols, one shotgun…
There were four of us too. Five, if we included Susie. We also had two pistols. Almost even-stevens at the Gunfight at the OK Corral.
I felt a hysterical urge to laugh. Clamped it down. Concentrated on the traffic around me.
We crested a long hill, the motorway carving through a long valley. The dashboard clock told me the temperature had dropped from eight to six degrees outside and that it was just after two o’clock. Two hours until sunset.
And then it happened. Overhead gantries flashed white. Accident. Slow Down.
‘No,’ I said.
‘Shit,’ muttered Barry.
Please God it had already been cleared away. The motorway police and accident response service were usually incredibly swift to remove cars and debris to the hard shoulder, their priority to keep traffic movi
ng, prevent any build up that might cause further accidents, but if you caught an accident when it had just happened, you could be stuck for an hour or more.
The traffic slowed down. Sixty mph. Fifty.
‘Please,’ I groaned.
As we cruised around a long corner, the car ahead jammed on its brakes. Thirty.
I was gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles bled white.
Please, I prayed.
We came to the end of the bend and my heart plummeted. Ahead was a river of red tail lights, stationary traffic all the way to the horizon.
Chapter 63
Slowly, we cruised to a halt. The next exit wasn’t for another four miles.
‘Switch on the radio,’ said Barry. ‘I’ll check traffic news.’
In the distance, I heard a siren. Looking in my rear view mirror, I saw a blue flashing light approaching.
‘Shit,’ I said as an ambulance raced past on the hard shoulder, hotly followed by two motorway patrol cars. If the emergency services hadn’t got to the accident yet, we could be here for hours.
‘Follow them,’ said Barry.
‘What?’
‘I’ve got my warrant card.’
‘What about Rob?’
‘I’ll think of something.’
I put on my indicator and inched my way across. The second my tyres gripped the hard shoulder, I punched the big red triangle on my dashboard to switch on the hazard warning lights. Trickled past the traffic queues. Behind me I saw Dad’s Discovery follow, hazards also flashing.
It didn’t take long to get to the crash site. Maybe three minutes. A Citroen lay upside down across the hard shoulder and slow lane. A second vehicle was crushed against the central reservation, the third just behind it with a crumpled bonnet. Glass and bits of metal lay everywhere. The ambulance service team was already at work. Five people appeared to be involved. Two were standing but the rest were on the ground in disarrayed and shocked heaps.
As soon as we appeared, an officer strode across.
Barry leaped outside. ‘Sorry, pal. We’re in a bit of a hurry.’
The cop gestured angrily behind us, obviously telling Barry to sod off and get back in the queue, but Barry persisted.
