Backstreet Child (67 page)

Rachel looked into his face and saw the terrible wild look in his eyes. ‘It was you on the phone,’ she said. ‘You tricked me.’

He nodded. ‘We’re taking a little trip and I want you to do exactly as you’re told. I’m desperate and I won’t hesitate to run this knife right into you if I have to.’

Rachel fought to stay calm as she felt the pressure of the knife in her side. There was nothing she could do to attract attention without getting hurt, and Frank Galloway looked capable of anything. She knew both father and son by sight, had heard her mother talk endlessly about the Galloway family and about Frank Galloway’s misdeeds, but she had never considered for a minute that the man would be so stupid as to threaten her, or do her any harm. What was he trying to achieve?

The taxi driver had already been told where to go and he turned into Jamaica Road and then left into Rotherhithe Tunnel. Necessity and sheer desperation had set Frank to thinking hard and he had laid his plans well. Their destination was a derelict riverside warehouse in Wapping. It had once stored dried fruit and canned goods from the Orient, but now the bomb-blasted building was abandoned to the rats that searched the deserted floors for rotting titbits.

Frank had been shown over the building some time ago by a businessman he had befriended at a masonic dinner. They had discussed buying the derelict property and renovating it for furniture-making after the war was over, and for a time Frank had been excited about the project. He had planned on investing as a partner, once he gained his inheritance, but his dreams had been shattered.

The taxi reached the end of the tunnel and turned sharply left into a narrow lane. On each side, high gloomy warehouses shut out the light and the taxi rattled over the rough cobbles.

‘This will do, driver,’ Frank ordered, and then he turned to Rachel with a stern look on his flushed face. ‘Now don’t try anything as we get out. Just keep close to me,’ he warned her.

Rachel felt his grip on her arm tighten as he paid the driver, and then he pulled her roughly towards the debris-strewn warehouse yard. They entered the derelict building through an opening in the brickwork at the end of the yard. The air inside was foul-smelling. Rachel felt her blood run cold as she heard a scurry. The place is rat-infested, she thought with horror.

‘Why are yer bringin’ me ’ere?’ she said suddenly.

‘Just keep quiet,’ Frank hissed. ‘I warned you once. Don’t talk.’

She was hustled along inside the filthy warehouse, then pulled roughly towards an iron door. Frank held her tightly with one hand and reached for the door handle with the other. The next instant Rachel was violently shoved into the dark interior and before she had time to think the door was slammed shut.

Chapter Forty-One

Tony O’Reilly had had a busy day. In the morning he had been to see an army friend who was recovering from his wounds at the Woolwich Military Hospital, and then afterwards he had gone to the Bermondsey baths, where he soaked luxuriously for almost an hour before going to get his hair trimmed. His next visit was to a jewellery shop in Whitechapel, where he bought a gold ring which had five tiny diamonds set in a raised shoulder. He had it in the inside pocket of his coat and he occasionally reassured himself that it was still there as he strolled along Jamaica Road in the warm evening air.

He was feeling happy. He had read the early edition of the evening paper on his way back from Whitechapel and it appeared that the invasion was going well. Tonight he would give Rachel the ring he had bought and hold her close in the darkness of the cinema. Life felt good for him as he turned into Salmon Lane, blissfully unaware that his happiness was about to be shattered.

Joe met him at the gate, his face dark. ‘We’ve ’ad a phone call, Tony,’ he said urgently. ‘Somebody’s ’oldin’ Rachel.’

‘What?’ Tony exclaimed. ‘ ’Oldin’ ’er? What d’yer mean,’oldin’ ’er?’

Joe led the anxious young man into the house and he was immediately confronted by Carrie in tears.

‘Rachel went out before five this evenin’,’ she said, fighting to compose herself. ‘Somebody phoned ter say they wanted ter meet ’er. They said they were from the
South London Press
an’ they wanted to arrange a meetin’ ter fix up an interview wiv the two o’ yer. Whoever it was said they’d send ’er back by taxi an’ it wouldn’t take long. Then not long after, we got anuvver call. They said if we wanted ter see Rachel again we’d ’ave ter pay a ransom. Oh God, why didn’t I stop ’er goin’?’ Carrie sobbed.

Joe went to her and put his arms round her. ‘Yer mustn’t blame yerself,’ he said, patting her back gently. ‘We wasn’t ter know it was a set-up. ’Ow could we know?’

Tony’s face was ashen as he looked from one to the other. ‘’Ave yer any idea who it could be?’ he asked.

Joe and Carrie both shook their heads and Tony gripped his fists tightly in anger.

‘They said they’d ring later to arrange payment, and if we went ter the police they’d kill Rachel fer sure,’ Joe told him.

‘Did they say what time they’ll ring back?’ Tony asked.

‘No, they rang off before I could say anyfing,’ Joe replied.

Just then Nellie called out and Carrie hastily dabbed at her face. ‘I daren’t tell Mum, it’ll kill ’er,’ she groaned.

As soon as Carrie left the room, Joe turned to Tony. ‘I don’t know much about such fings, but by the way ’e sounded, I reckon ’e’ll carry out ’is threat if we do go ter the police,’ he said quietly. ‘I just feel so ’elpless. What can we do?’

Tony shook his head. ‘I didn’t want ter say anyfing in front o’ Rachel’s mum, but we can’t be sure ’e won’t ’arm ’er, even if the ransom is paid. We’ve got ter find ’er, Joe,’ he said.

Suddenly the phone rang and Joe went quickly to answer it. Tony felt his heart pounding as he watched Joe’s face darken with anger. Then he put the receiver down.

‘ ’E told me jus’ ter listen carefully an’ that if I spoke ’e’d put the phone down right away,’ Joe said, his voice shaking. ‘’E’s askin’ fer two thousand pounds. We’ve got ter ’ave it ready by midday termorrer.’

‘’Ow’s it ter be paid?’ Tony asked.

‘’E said ’e’d give us instructions later. ‘E’s gonna call sometimes termorrer mornin’,’ Joe replied, slumping down in a chair.

When Carrie came down into the room she was whitefaced. ‘What’s ’appened?’ she asked anxiously. ‘I ’eard the phone go but I couldn’t leave Mum. I’m sure she suspects there’s somefing wrong.’

Joe told her the message and she held her hand to her mouth.

‘There’s nuffink we can do till the mornin’, luv. We can only wait,’ Joe said, running a hand over his forehead.

Carrie shook her head. ‘There’s nearly a thousand in the bank, an’ I can raise the rest in the mornin’, but I feel so ’elpless. I wonder where they’ve got ’er, Joe? Will she be all right?’ she asked tearfully.

‘She’s gonna be all right, believe me,’ Joe said, taking her by the shoulders. ‘We’ve jus’ gotta try ter stay calm.’

Carrie shook her head. ‘I can’t sit still. I’ll make us a cuppa. It’s gonna be a long wait.’

Nellie walked slowly into the room with a blanket covering her shoulders. ‘What the bloody ’ell’s goin’ on ’ere?’ she asked.

Gloria Simpson sat arched backward in her chair. The knot pressing against the back of her neck had tightened when her head slumped earlier and she knew that to relax her back would be fatal. The gag in her mouth was hurting and she realised that she had lost the circulation in both feet. Frank Galloway was a maniac, she thought with hatred in her heart. He had openly admitted to killing Lola and it was quite probable that she would be his next victim now that she knew his dark secret. She must get loose somehow. Her life depended on it.

Gloria looked round the room in desperation. Her chair was facing the window; a tall vase sat on the windowsill. She could feel the bonds beginning to bite into her swollen hands and she tried to move her fingers. The rope from her neck to the back of the chair had been passed over her tethered hands and she started to search for it by spreading her fingers, at the same time arching her back still further in an attempt to loosen the rope. Suddenly she felt it and managed to curl her thumb round it. If she could hold it and stop it tightening any more, she might be able to jerk the chair towards the window.

Gloria took a deep breath and moved her hips forward in a quick jerk. The chair moved an inch or so and she gasped with the effort. The rope had not tightened any further and Gloria took heart. It was going to be a painful task, she realised, but it was the only way.

Sammy McCarthy chuckled to himself as he sat drinking Guinness from a pint bottle. It had been a good day and there had been very little work involved. That businessman would have been a little upset had he known that Gloria wasn’t going to receive any clients that evening anyway, but he was well able to afford the pound note he had passed over, Sammy decided.

The soft music coming from the wireless was lulling the caretaker to sleep and the sound of smashing glass and something shattering in the street outside jerked him up sharply.

‘Not anuvver bloody warrin’ family,’ he said aloud as he hurried out of his ground-floor flat into the street. ‘Oh my good Gawd!’ he gasped as he saw the smashed vase at his feet and Gloria’s head hanging through the broken window above him.

Sammy dashed up the flights of stairs, scared that Gloria would cut her throat on the broken glass before he could get to her, and he was gasping for breath as he charged his way into her flat.

A little later Gloria sat recovering as Sammy rubbed her lifeless hands and feet.

‘Yer was lucky yer didn’t get more than a scratch from that glass. I’ll personally take that evil git apart limb from limb,’ he growled. ‘Just you wait. I’ll ’ave ’im screamin’ fer mercy.’

Gloria suddenly looked at him, her deathly white face full of fear. ‘Sammy, there’s two young kids in deadly danger from that evil git. I must warn ’em.’

Nellie had seen the worry on everyone’s face and Carrie had been forced to tell her everything that had happened. Now the old woman sat sipping a cup of tea, her face white and drawn. ‘Who would ’ave done such a terrible fing?’ she said. ‘It was that photo in the paper, that’s what done it. I never ’eld wiv’avin’ yer photograph in the newspapers. I fink it asks fer trouble of one sort or anuvver.’

‘Now, don’t upset yerself, Mum,’ Carrie implored her. ‘We’ve got ter stay calm fer Rachel’s sake.’

At six o’clock the gate bell sounded and Joe hurried out to answer it. When he returned, Gloria and Sammy were with him, and his face was red with anger. ‘This is Gloria Simpson, an’ yer better listen ter what she’s got ter say, Carrie,’ he told her, his hands squeezed into tight fists. ‘It’s Frank Galloway who’s got Rachel.’

‘Frank Galloway!’ Carrie gasped, hardly believing her ears.

‘Yer fella told me yer daugher’s bin taken,’ Gloria blurted out. ‘That’s what I come ter warn yer about but I’m too late.’

Carrie motioned Gloria and Sammy to sit down, and everyone listened in horror as the Rotherhithe street woman told them what had happened.

‘’E kept ’oldin’ ’is ’ead like ’e was in agony,’ she told them. ‘But it was ’is eyes that terrified me. I can still see ’em.’ She turned to Tony. ‘I’m sorry about yer muvver, Tony. That evil Galloway’s got a lot to answer for.’

Tony was sitting numb with shock at what he had just heard and he merely nodded. Carrie hurried to Gloria’s side as the distraught woman lowered her head and burst into tears, while Sammy sat upright in his chair, feeling partly responsible for everything by allowing the madman to get to Gloria. Suddenly he looked up at Joe. ‘I’m wiv yer in this,’ he growled.

Joe was already putting on his coat. ‘ ’E might be ’oldin’ Rachel at ’is yard, though I doubt it,’ he said quickly. ‘We’ll ’ave ter try there though, we don’t know where else ter look.’

Joe and Tony hurried out of the house with Sammy McCarthy, Gloria’s warning ringing in their ears. ‘Be careful, remember ’e’s off ’is ’ead.’

The three hurried out onto Jamaica Road and it was not long before they reached Wilson Street. They walked down to the padlocked yard. Joe peered through a gap in the wicket gate and then turned to Tony and Sammy. ‘It looks all quiet inside, but Galloway could be in there,’ he said. ‘The wicket gate’s not fastened from the outside.’

‘Gis a leg-up an’ I’ll go over,’ Sammy volunteered.

Tony was burning with hatred for the man who had wanted to kill his mother, and with a sudden cry he took a running jump and his hands found the top of the gate. With little effort he pulled himself up and rolled over, dropping out of sight of the two older men. His heart was pumping fast as he crossed the yard and reached for the handle of the office door. Suddenly the door opened quickly and he was grabbed by his coat lapels, a hand going round his throat. He barely saw his assailant before he was spun round with brute force and wrestled to the floor. The man’s heavy bulk was bearing down on him painfully. ‘Who are yer an’ what yer doin’ ’ ere?’ the man growled at him.

Tony looked up into the huge flat face staring down at him. ‘I’m lookin’ fer that bastard Gallo way ,’ he gasped defiantly.

‘Well, Galloway ain’t ’ere,’ the man replied, easing his weight from the young soldier.

‘Who are you?’ Tony asked, gingerly rubbing his bruised throat.