48 Hours - A City of London Thriller (31 page)

“
It certainly is,” Dee agreed. “Lavender, I suspect that if we
were in West London they would have grabbed you closer to home. So,
assuming we are North, South or East of London, thirty minutes at
an average speed of about thirty miles an hour means you could have
travelled around fifteen miles at the most. That would put us in
Croydon to the South, Blackheath in the East or in North London or
Essex. Did you cross a bridge?”

Lavender concentrated. “I don’t know. I couldn’t
see.”

“
Think back. If you crossed the Thames from Lambeth Road you
would have crossed Blackfriars Bridge. Most of the bridges across
the Thames have expansion joints. They allow the bridge structure
to move a few millimetres without cracking the road surface. When
cars cross these joints, there’s always a small shudder and a sound
like this.” Dee banged her fists on the table a fraction of a
second apart. “There would probably be four or more of these across
the bridge. Do you remember anything like that?”

Lavender thought hard. “Maybe. I think I can remember that,
but I don’t know whether I’m making myself believe it because you
just told me about it.”

“
That’s all right. Don’t worry. You’re doing very well,” Dee
smiled. “Your dad will be proud of you. Take your time and try to
remember. At the moment we can’t rule out any options. Did they say
anything during the journey? Anything at all?”

Lavender’s brow creased in concentration. “Yes, they did, they
were talking to each other, but nothing that’s any use, really. It
was just a few minutes before we arrived.”

“
Lavender, try to remember exactly what they said. It might be
vital.”

“
I think they said something about it being odd for the
floodlights to be on when they weren’t even at home today. They
also said Harry wouldn’t be pleased with the draw today and they
would have to do better on Wednesday night. Does that even make
sense to you?”

Dee took a deep breath. “Yes, Lavender, it does. You’ve done
very well to remember all of that. I think I do know where we are,
more or less. But we mustn’t let anyone know about this
conversation, OK?” Lavender nodded, smiling properly for the first
time.

***

Floodlights suggested a sports ground, presumably a large one.
Not being at home today suggested football or rugby. A draw
suggested football or cricket, but only football would be played
again on Wednesday night.

Of course, Dee realised, it was probably Champions League. She
remembered Josh talking about it to one of his friends at the match
this afternoon. If only she could remember which team had drawn
today and was also playing again on Wednesday.

Dee quite liked football, but didn’t know a great deal about
it. She would certainly not have considered herself a fan, but some
football news was hard to miss. She knew that Arsenal, Spurs and
Chelsea were the London teams in the Champions League, so it had to
be one of those three. She had seen Chelsea beat West Ham today,
and Chelsea had been away, not at home, so it couldn’t be them. The
ground Lavender had passed was not Chelsea’s.

So that left the two North London clubs, Arsenal and
Tottenham. She couldn’t recall what their scores had been today, or
whether either one had been at home, but she did know that Spurs’
next home match was against West Ham. Tickets had been advertised
for sale on the hoardings dozens of times during the
match.

She had narrowed their position down to North London, which
was something. The trouble was that the Emirates Stadium, the home
of Arsenal, was close to the A1, and White Hart Lane, where Spurs
played, was close to the A10, both quite fast roads and both easily
accessible from the river.

Something else popped into her mind. She looked at her new
friend.

“
Lavender, did you mention someone called Harry?”

Lavender nodded. “Yes, they said Harry would have their guts
for garters if they didn’t play better.”

“
Harry could be their manager. I think Arsene Venger is the
manager at Arsenal, but I don’t know if Tottenham’s manager is
called Harry,” Dee mused out loud.

“
Of course he is,” Lavender almost shouted. “Harry Redknapp.
He’s Louise Redknapp’s father in law. I’ve done modelling with
Louise a few times. She’s married to Jamie Redknapp. He’s really
quite nice.”

“
Lavender, I could kiss you!” Dee said as she realised that
they were within a few hundred yards of White Hart Lane, in
Tottenham, North London. She knew approximately where they were,
and what kind of building they were in. Now all she had to do was
work out how they were going to get out of there.

Chapter 6
6

Commercial Road, Tottenham, North London. Saturday,
10pm.

Lavender had been talking for a while and Dee had explained
why she was dressed in a jumpsuit. Lavender didn’t need to explain
why she was dressed the way she was.

The last hour had been something of a confessional, where Dee
had listened to a little girl lost who thought she was an adult and
so behaved like one. When Lavender listened to Dee and heard about
her experiences, she suddenly realised that here was a substantive
woman who was beautiful and tough and who felt no desire for
celebrity.

Was her shrink right, she wondered for the first time? Was
Lavender Fisher a lost soul seeking fame through notoriety, just as
her mother and father had done? They had settled down eventually,
and no doubt Lavender would, too, one day, but they had both
enjoyed successful careers in the full glare of celebrity. Lavender
had hosted a few TV shows because she was Don Fisher’s daughter,
but she hadn’t actually achieved anything in her own
right.

Lavender confided in Dee that when they eventually got out of
this mess, she would go into rehab and come off alcohol and
drugs.

Dee spoke to her like a kindly older sister. “Lavender, that’s
the wrong move. All you would be doing is making someone else
responsible for getting you sober and clean. Even if it works,
because you didn’t do it yourself, you’ll slip back. You need to do
something constructive, something to give your life direction. Why
don’t you come and work with me for two months as an intern? Live
at home. Get yourself sorted out and I’ll show you what a real job
looks like.”

“
You would do that for me?” Lavender asked,
surprised.

“
Yes, I would. Believe me when I say that I’ve helped girls in
a much worse state than you. Girls who have been trafficked for sex
and exploited by evil people in the name of profit or cult
religion. It worked for them, and it can work for you, too, if you
really want it to. Now, remember the plan. We have to stick with
it, OK?”

***

From the first minute she had been taken, Dee had expected
that this moment would come, and so she had prepared herself and
coached Lavender.

Two of the masked men stood at the end of the table with a
video camera. They were the two whom Dee had injured. They were
clearly still suffering, judging by their fidgeting and
complaining.

Piet gave the girls their orders. “This video will last a
minute and not a second longer, so choose your words wisely. I will
introduce you both and you will each tell your people that they
must stop the police pursuing the blackmail case, first of all. The
police must then come to an agreement with Lord Hickstead by Monday
evening at six, or your families don’t see you again.”

Piet stood behind the camera and counted Gregor in.

“
Three, two, one.” Gregor pressed record; both girls were in
shot, sitting either side of the table, still chained as before.
Their captor introduced them to the camera.

“
As you can see, we have Lavender Fisher and Diane Fraser. We
guarantee that they will both be returned safely, just as long as
you have the police reach an agreement with Lord Hickstead by
Monday at six in the evening.”

Piet fell silent and pointed to Lavender, who fell straight
into her prepared speech, although her voice quavered with
nerves.

“
Dad, I’m so, so sorry. I caused all of this. I promise that
if you make the police do as these men say, I’ll give up the
celebrity lifestyle and take that office job on the first
floor.”

Piet pointed at Dee, or Diane as he had called her. Her voice
was much stronger.

“
Josh, please don’t go into print with your statement. Press
the police to agree to the terms these guys want. If you don’t,
you’ll find your next opposition right here.”

Piet spoke from behind the camera again. “Remember, Monday,
six o’clock, or you never see either of them again.”

The camera was switched off, and Piet announced sardonically,
“That’s a wrap, folks.”

Chapter 6
7

Vastrick Security, No. 1 Poultry, London. Saturday,
Midnight.

We all sat around the conference table waiting for the
inevitable call, well aware that it might not come until tomorrow.
I was still having trouble grasping the reality of the situation.
The police were busy examining both crime scenes and each force had
a representative in the room with us.

Around the table were Tom Vastrick, Inspector Boniface, DCI
Coombes and an agitated Don Fisher. At the head of the table with a
mass of electronics was a young man called Levi, whose Jewish
heritage was not in question once one had seen him.

Both my BlackBerry and Fisher’s IPhone were plugged in to a
speaker and we had been given headsets that we could don as soon as
a call came in. The idea was that any calls be traced, recorded,
decoded and analysed by voice stress analysts sitting at Scotland
Yard.

In the end it was a waste of time, as two text messages came
in simultaneously from a Dutch mobile phone number. The message was
simple.

“
Follow the link www.flickr.com/48hrs/Videos.”

Levi wasn’t fazed by the unexpected turn of events, and within
a few seconds the photo storage and networking site was on our
screen. There was one video in the collection and Levi clicked on
it. A play arrow was displayed.

“
Before we run this, I want full transcript, enhanced video
stills and full analysis of any key words or signals. I suggest we
conference call in 30 minutes to swap war stories,” Tom Vastrick
said to the people in his office and to Scotland Yard via the open
communication link.

Levi pressed play.

A man appeared on the video, which was reasonably good
quality, and spoke. His voice was slightly muffled because of the
ski mask, and he was trying to conceal his accent by exaggerating a
British twang. He had chosen his background well, as on first look
there were no clues as to where he was.

“
Mr Fisher, Mr Hammond and associated representatives of the
Police Force. There follows a message and I urge you take it
seriously. I would not say this in front of the hostages but they
will die if our demands are not met. I cannot help but notice they
are both attractive women, the kind that men dream of having on
their arm and in their bed.”

The video picture faded and a new scene faded in. On the
screen we could see Lavender and Dee either side of a long table
with chains on their wrists. A disembodied voice spoke, again
muffled and this time affecting a Mid Atlantic accent.

“
As you can see, we have Lavender Fisher and Diane Fraser. We
guarantee that they will both be returned safely, just as long as
you have the police reach an agreement with Lord Hickstead by
Monday at six in the evening.”

I was taken aback. Who was Diane Fraser? The others looked
puzzled, too. We couldn’t dwell on the anomaly at that moment,
however, as a nervous Lavender began to speak to the
camera.

“
Dad, I’m so, so sorry. I caused all of this. I promise that
if you make the police do as these men say, I’ll give up the
celebrity lifestyle and take that office job on the first
floor.”

“
What job?” Don Fisher blurted.

But any conversation was curtailed as Dee spoke.

“
Josh, please don’t go into print with your statement. Press
the police to agree to the terms these guys want. If you don’t,
you’ll find your next opposition right here.”

It was my turn to say “What?”

The second kidnapper spoke from behind the camera
again.

“
Remember, Monday, six o’clock, or you never see either of
them again.”

***

As soon as the video ended there was a flurry of activity, and
analysts were poring over every work spoken for clues.

“
Mr Fisher, Josh, let me start by saying that at Vastrick we
train all of our operatives in surviving hostage situations. Just
like the military, we use certain key words and phrases that signal
useful pieces of information. After that, it’s up to the ingenuity
of the hostage, and Dee is ingenious, believe me. I know because
I’ve watched her in action. Now, can I have your initial thoughts
on what we just saw and heard?”

I spoke out first.