48 Hours - A City of London Thriller (32 page)

“
The very first thing that puzzled me was the way the man
called Dee, Diane Fraser. I can’t explain that. Why give a false
name?”

“
I think I know,” Levi said, staring at his screen where a
picture of a young woman was prominent. “The Vastrick database has
thrown up a reference to a former case where we recovered a cult
member after her parents made a donation to ‘The new world order
for tranquillity’.”

“
I remember that case,” Tom Vastrick interrupted, frowning.
Obviously it hadn’t ended well. “The cult leaders said if the
parents paid half a million pounds in donations, they would
excommunicate their daughter and expel her. The parents paid up,
and our operatives were directed to an industrial unit where we
found Diane Fraser fit and healthy and angry, having been chained
up. Sad thing was, after a month she went straight back to the
cult. It was probably a ploy. OK people, analysis
please.”

A voice came over the speakers.

“
Tom, this is Luke. As there is no cult involvement here,
could it be that Dee is sending us a message that she is being held
in an industrial unit?”

Tom looked around the table, and Boniface and Coombes both
nodded their agreement with the analysis. We moved on to Lavender’s
statement, and Don Fisher spoke up.

“
I don’t know what the girl is on about. I’ve never offered
her an office job and our offices don’t have a first floor,
anyway.”

“
I think she’s a clever girl,” Coombes commented. “Surely she
means that they are being held in a first floor office. So far we
have them in an industrial unit, with two storey offices, and
they’re on the first floor.”

Boniface leaned over and squeezed the DCI’s shoulder. DCI
Coombes beamed as the table accepted his analysis. The door opened
and a full printed transcript was given to everyone. We were then
told that the video stills were being printed. Boniface took the
lead for a moment.

“
Josh’s statement was taken days ago, and he signed it in
Dee’s presence. It would seem to me that the first part, about
going into print, must also be a coded message.”

We all pondered what it could mean, and the analysts set
algorithms away that would analyse all possible meanings of the
words.

“
Luke again,” the speaker chirped. The computer is showing
that the word ‘print’ can be associated with the word ‘press’ in
the next sentence, as in ‘printing press’. This could be code for
Dee telling us that the industrial unit houses a printing
press.”DCI Coombes and Inspector Boniface whispered to one another
before Coombes said in a loud voice, “DS Scott, are you still
sitting with the voice analysts at Scotland Yard?”

“
Yes, Guv. We can hear and see everything that’s going
on.”

“
Good. The Inspector and I would like you to run a check on
all print companies inside the M25. Don’t bother with print shops,
just the ones operating out of industrial premises. Oh, and see if
we’ve had any suspicions or reports on any of them.”

“
OK, Guv, I’m on it now.”

We all looked at the next section of the transcript, and Tom
continued.

“
So, we know that Dee thinks that there are at least four men
holding them, did everyone see that?” Everyone nodded but me and
Don Fisher.

“
Run that part again, Levi,” he said, seeing our puzzlement.
“Watch her hands.”

Dee had been sitting with her hands in closed fists, and as
soon as she said the words “these guys”, she opened her right hand
and tucking her thumb underneath tapped the table gently with four
fingers.

I didn’t know who was cleverer, Dee for coming up with it, or
the detectives in the room who noticed that imperceptible movement.
Along with a strong feeling of pride in Dee I also felt a quick
stab of pain at the loss, no matter how temporary, of the woman I
loved.

***

Things had been going well and everyone was exuding a
confidence and bravado that lifted Don Fisher’s spirits and my own,
but then they faltered. The clumsy phrasing of Dee’s last sentence
obviously meant something, but neither the analysts nor the
computer had a reasonable interpretation of what it
meant.

They all turned to me. Inspector Boniface voiced the opinion
of them all.

“
Josh, we think this message is specifically meant for you.
She deliberately says:

“
If you don’t, you’ll find your next opposition right
here.”

I guessed that they were right, but other than the obvious
meaning that the kidnappers would be my opponents if I didn’t
persuade the police, I couldn’t see what else it could
be.

“
Luke again. The computer has these suggestions for ‘your next
opposition’. First a political opposition, which given the fact
that he is a Labour Peer seems most likely. Second a sporting
opposition, an individual or team attempting to overcome
you.”

How could I have been so dense? I put it down to tiredness and
stress. A light went on in my brain, and suddenly I knew what it
meant.

“
Thanks, Luke. Sporting opposition is exactly what it means.
Today at West Ham, Dee and I watched as they lost to Chelsea. West
Ham have now gone four games without a point, so everyone was
saying we must win our next home match, where the opposition is
Tottenham Hotspur.”

***

It was now nearly two in the morning, and computers were
working overtime, looking for printing companies in the vicinity of
Tottenham. There were six possibilities and so Levi typed in the
first address provided by DS Scott from Scotland Yard.

Up on the video came a satellite view from Google. Levi
dragged a little man figure onto the road in front of the printing
press. Immediately a picture looking down the road appeared. Levi
clicked on an arrow and the view was to our right.

There in the middle of the picture was a 1930’s single storey
brick building bearing the sign, Norman Betteridge, Printer and
Binder. This was clearly not our building.

Levi carried out the same routine for all six addresses. We
were left with two possibilities. Offset Litho (Tottenham) Ltd on
Brantwood Road, and Tottenham Press (2005) Ltd, on Commercial
Road.

Offset Litho was a two story flat roofed building with offices
at the front and the factory space behind. Tottenham Press was a
big shed with a pitched roof.

Something had been niggling at me for an hour and I couldn’t
bring it to the front of my mind. I flicked through the video
stills again, in case I had missed something important. I was about
to put to one side the first picture of the masked man facing the
camera when I saw something that took me back a couple of years. In
the background, just behind the man, I could make out a column of
what seemed to me to be yellow steel. They were quite clearly
inside a yellow steel framed building.

In 2008 I had been called to a fire where a mini industrial
unit had burned down. The site was a tangle of cladding insulation
and twisted yellow steel. The insurer paid for the rebuild, which I
certified at each month end as the work proceeded. The original
steel contractor had been employed to rebuild the frame. The
company were called Conder Structures, if I was remembering
correctly, and their director told me that three of the major steel
suppliers used their own patented colours; blue, green and yellow
respectively. Most other contractors’ steel was usually primed with
red or grey. The interesting point as far as I was concerned was
that Conder specialised in portal frames because they provided
greater strength with less steel and gave a completely free floor
area with no columns. A portal frame building would typically also
have pitched roof.

I quickly explained to the weary team my theory and preference
for Tottenham Press being the kidnappers’ hideout. No-one disputed
my analysis, but just to be sure the Metropolitan Police asked a
local car to drive by both premises and look for signs of life.
Tottenham Police Station obliged, and promised to call back in
fifteen minutes.

DCI Coombes’ mobile phone rang and he answered it. He grabbed
a pen, making notes on a pad in front of him.

“
Thanks for that, Sergeant. That might just be the information
that tips the balance.”

He set down his phone and spoke to Inspector Boniface,
speaking loudly enough for us all to hear.

“
Have you heard of the Holloway family?”

“
Yes. We caught one of their teams unloading a dozen Chinese
illegals at one of the big office blocks in the City, but the
Chinese wouldn’t talk to us and so they were deported and a couple
of Holloway’s boys went to prison for acting as gang masters to
illegal immigrants. Neither of them would say a word about Pops or
Sonny, though.”

DCI Coombes turned to the rest of us.

“
Alfred Clement Holloway is in his sixties now but he’s been a
villain all of his life. We’ve linked him with stolen goods, drug
trafficking, human trafficking and prostitution but so far he’s
always managed to get away with short sentences, having pleaded
guilty to the minor offences, knowing witnesses wouldn’t come
forward. For the last twenty years he has been known as Pops
Holloway, as a sign of respect and because his son Adam Alfred
Holloway, joined the family business.”

This was all very interesting, but I couldn’t see where this
was taking us. Coombes was still talking.

“
Pops Holloway was a Director of Tottenham Press when it went
bust in 2005. He was disqualified as a director for ten years
because Companies House thinks he deliberately siphoned off
creditors’ money before he went into administration. He still owns
the lease, and his son is one of the directors.

DS Scott says that the Fraud Squad think that it was Holloways
that printed all of the fake tickets for that Diva concert at the
O2 Arena last year. Almost half the tickets were fakes, but the
gate staff couldn’t tell them apart. We had fifty officers there
breaking up fights between fans who had booked the same seats as
others.”

Vastrick was in conference with the two police officers, who
were trying to decide if we had enough certainty to mount a raid on
Tottenham Press. The phone rang and Vastrick put it on
speaker.

“
DCI Coombes, this is Sergeant Hall at Tottenham. We did a
drive by, and Offset Litho is dark and quiet. Tottenham Press is
showing a narrow strip of light under the roller shutter door,
which is odd.”

“
Why is it odd, Sergeant?” Coombes asked.

“
Well, there’s a sign on the door saying it’s closed for
holidays and reopens after the Bank Holiday.”

Chapter 6
8

Commercial Road, Tottenham, North London. Sunday
6am.

Dee and Lavender were lying under the table on a sleeping bag
which had been opened up for use as a thin mattress. Both were
still chained to the table, which meant it would be virtually
impossible to make themselves comfortable. Nonetheless, Lavender
had fallen asleep quickly and showed no signs of rousing. The night
had been warm enough to sleep through, and Dee had managed a few
hours of fitful sleep herself. Now, though, she felt cold and
thirsty. She could look forward to another thirty six hours of this
if things didn’t go well.

Dee lay on her back, thinking. She trusted Tom Vastrick and
she believed that Josh would move heaven and earth to save her.
That was the type of person he was. Between the two of them, and
Boniface and Coombes, Dee was sure her message would have been
received and understood. At least, she hoped it had been received
and understood.

Lavender stirred and turned to face Dee. Then, much to Dee’s
surprise, she smiled. The girl had been kidnapped and had spent the
night on an uncomfortable floor, chained to a table, yet she was
still smiling. Dee involuntarily smiled back. Without layers of
make-up, the young woman facing her looked like the vulnerable
young girl she was.

“
Good morning, ladies. I trust you slept well.” The voice made
them jump. It was the leader, who had just entered the room. “If
you promise not to do anything silly, I will allow you both fifteen
minutes in the bathroom. If you don’t promise, I’ll have to keep
the door open and watch you, won’t I? So, do you
promise?”

Both women promised. Quite what this man thought either of
them could possibly get up to in a bathroom was anyone’s guess.
There was no external wall to the bathroom, and no window; it was a
Portakabin, inside a factory unit.

***

When Dee returned to the room, having allowed Lavender to go
first, she held her hands out dutifully to allow herself to be
handcuffed. A two litre bottle of still water had been placed on
the side table, and Rik moved it to within their reach.

“
I hope you don’t mind sharing. Breakfast will be along
shortly. Oh, it will probably be more continental style than ‘full
English’.” He laughed and left.

Lavender reached for the water at once, but Dee stopped her.
She picked it up and turned the bottle upside down before squeezing
it hard. She seemed satisfied with her efforts and turned to
examining the plastic bottle closely, concentrating on the section
above the water line.