Beyond Reach (39 page)

‘You recognised him?’

‘Straight off. Back in the early days I used to be a spotter at Pompey away games. Mackenzie was in the 6.57 then. He hasn’t changed at all.’

‘So now you knew who you were shagging. Am I right?’

‘Yeah. In fact I asked her about her dad the next time we met. She said yes, like you would, and when I wondered why she hadn’t told me before she just laughed. She didn’t want to put me off, she said. As if.’

‘But it made no difference?’

‘It couldn’t. Nothing could. Not by then. Even if she’d told me she had HIV or leprosy something, I’d still have stayed with her.’

‘And from her point of view?’

‘The same. I asked whether her dad, you know, had cottoned on, but she said no. It was just her and me. Our little secret.’

Willard glanced across at Faraday. Your turn. Faraday wanted to know whether Madison and Esme ever talked about her life outside the home.

‘How do you mean?’

‘She works for her father. She’s legally qualified. She does a lot on the contracting side. If she’s told you it’s all kids and shopping then she wasn’t being entirely … ah … truthful.’

Madison nodded. Suddenly he seemed less comfortable.

‘I pressed her on that,’ he admitted. ‘I knew she went away with him sometimes and they couldn’t have been just jollies.’

‘Away where?’

‘Spain a couple of times. Dubai, once. She came back with loads of gold, jewellery and stuff. I remember that.’

‘And did she tell you why she went? What they got up to?’

‘She always said they had a good time … but no, she never said much else.’

‘Did you press her?’

‘Yes. She wasn’t having it.’

‘She said that?’

‘Yes. In fact that was the closest we ever had to a row. She said it wasn’t my business.’

‘Did you want it to be?’

‘I didn’t want there to be any gaps.’

‘You mean secrets?’

‘Yes. If this thing was serious, if we were going where I thought we were going, then it had to be for real.’

‘Full disclosure?’

‘Yeah.’ There might have been the hint of a smile on Madison’s face. ‘Full disclosure.’

Willard stirred. He’d abandoned his cup.

‘So where exactly did you think this thing
was
going?’ he asked.

‘I thought we were going the whole way. Set up together. Live together. Make room for the kids. All that.’

‘Where?’

‘Abroad. She had some plans.’

‘Whereabouts abroad?’

‘Spain. She said she’d found a place, a really nice place, a place I’d love.’

‘Did she have photos? Anything like that?’

‘No. I asked, obviously, but there was always some excuse.’

‘And this place was a house?’

‘Of course. At least I assume so …’ Twenty years of coppering put a frown on his face. ‘What are you telling me? It
wasn’t
a house?’

Willard dismissed the question. He was more interested in more recent events.

‘Mackenzie eventually found out. What happened then?’

‘The shit hit the fan. After that, the way I see it now, all bets are off.’

‘I’m not with you. What bets?’

‘She’s a different woman. The spell, the magic, whatever it was, all that’s just gone.’

‘But you’d just found the place in Romsey, moved out, burned your bridges. Isn’t that the case?’

‘Yeah …’ Madison’s eyes strayed towards the bungalow. ‘Tell you the truth, I thought I’d got it all sussed. Bin the job. Take early retirement. Buy the missus off. Scarper. Except that’s not going to happen. Not now. Not with Mackenzie on top of her.’

Faraday was trying to work out the timeline. On Saturday last week, Esme had flown to Vigo to sign the contract on the hotel.

‘So when was the last time you saw her?’ he asked.

‘Last week. Friday. I’d just moved into the flat. We had a curry in Romsey. That’s when I knew.’

‘Knew what?’

‘Knew we were in the shit. She said she had to get home to pack. She was going down to Spain for a bit. She didn’t say why, and when I asked her about it she was just vague. Stuff she had to do. Early doors next morning. No fucking help at all. Then she just got up and said she was off. At that point I sussed Mackenzie must have found out because I’d had a run-in with Winter.’

‘When was that?’ Willard this time.

‘Earlier in the week. I was coming back across the forest in the middle of the night. Me and Esme had been together that evening and Winter must have plotted us up. He followed me later. We had words.’

‘He was warning you off?’

‘Yes.’

‘And what did you say?’

‘I told him to fuck off.’

Faraday leant forward. This was beginning to make sense. ‘And what else did you say?’

‘That night?’ Madison frowned again. ‘I think I might have said, might have hinted, that I knew more than I really did.’

‘About what?’

‘About Mackenzie. Just to put him off in case he was planning anything silly.’

‘Stuff you might have picked up from Esme, you mean?’

‘Exactly.’

‘But that was a lie?’

‘A ploy. To keep my arse in one piece.’

Faraday nodded. Winter had obviously reported back, and Mackenzie, like any rational human being, had told Winter to check this threat out. Hence Winter’s surprise visit to the Bargemaster’s House.

‘But in reality you knew nothing?’ It was Willard again. ‘About Mackenzie’s affairs?’

‘Nothing.’

‘And that’s still the case?’

‘Yeah.’ Madison nodded. ‘I’m afraid it is. Life’s a learning curve, boss. You can get into bed with one Mackenzie, but the minute the rest find out you’re well and truly fucked. You know something? In my line of business I should have seen that coming.’

There was a moment of complete silence. Then even Willard was laughing.

THURSDAY, 29 MAY 2008. 18.07

Marie made an early supper for Mo Sturrock and Winter. Winter, who rarely ate until mid-evening, asked her what was going on.

‘Baz has some plans. I take it you know nothing.’

Winter shook his head, looked at Sturrock. Sturrock seemed clueless as well but Winter knew at once he was lying.

‘What’s going on then? Anyone care to tell me?’

Marie had turned back to the chopping board. A salad of boiled eggs, diced tomatoes, spring onions, olives, tuna fish and slivers of anchovy, Winter’s favourite. Winter looked at her a moment longer, still waiting for an answer, then got up and left the kitchen. He found Mackenzie in his den. Baz had recovered the money from the vegetable basket and was packing it into a new-looking holdall. The holdall was black with the Nike motif on the side.

‘Baz?’

Mackenzie barely bothered to look round.

‘Close the door, mush. It’s draughty.’

‘What the fuck’s this about?’ Winter was staring at the holdall.

‘I’ve got a little job for you. I want you to take this lot down to Poole. There’s a pub near the ferry port called the Dog Star. There’s a guy who’ll meet you there. He’ll ask you about crowd attendance at the final. You tell him 89,874. Write it down. Go on. I’ll tell you something else, mush. That happens to be true.’

‘What does?’

‘Eighty-nine thousand, eight hundred and seventy-four. And that included me.’ He sat back in the chair and nodded at the holdall. ‘You OK with all this?’

‘With what, Baz? So far I’ve got to the Dog Star, I’m carrying a million quid in notes, and some bloke’s asking me how many turned up at Wembley. Do I give it to him? Do I phone the Bill? Do me and him elope together? Just a clue, Baz, that’s all I’m asking.’

‘You give it to him, mush. He takes it somewhere safe, somewhere outside, and half an hour later - once he’s counted it all - he makes a phone call. Then we hear a knock on the door … and guess who’s home for a late Horlicks?’

‘Guy? You’re kidding.’

‘Never. On my word.’

‘What if it’s a scam? What if we’ve just paid a million quid for fuck all?’

‘Won’t happen, mush.’ He patted the breast pocket of his leather jacket, where he kept his mobile. ‘I talked to the boy just now. He’s been told. He’s in the know. He can’t wait to get back.’

‘I’m not surprised. So where is he?’

Mackenzie smiled. ‘Nearer than you think.’ He nodded at the money. ‘Poole, mush. The Dog Star. I want you down there for half nine.’

 

Willard ordered yet another council of war. The Crime Scene Co-ordinator was busy with a murder in Southampton but Parsons deemed his presence non-essential. In his place came a D/S from the Totton-based Surveillance Unit. At Faraday’s suggestion a lawyer from the Crown Prosecution Service had also been invited to attend.

Much to Dalton’s amusement Faraday owned up at once to the blank he’d drawn with the Pole, Cesar Dubroslaw. As predicted, Mackenzie had lured the
Causeway
squad into one of the murkier corners of his business empire. Wasting half an hour of Dubroslaw’s time was hardly recompense for Bazza’s knock-back on the family-run hotel up the road but Faraday was the first to admit that Mackenzie, once again, had been pulling their strings.

Willard was far from amused. He wanted a full update on developments in Craneswater from Helen Christian. The FLO, expecting exactly this request, spread her hands wide.

‘I’ve got nothing, boss.’

She explained that she’d spoken on the phone to Marie, Mackenzie’s wife. She’d confirmed that her husband wanted nothing more to do with Operation
Causeway
and was intending to handle whatever happened next by himself.

‘Did you get the impression the kidnapper’s been in touch again?’

‘I asked her exactly that.’

‘And?’

‘She said no, not as far as she knew. The last bit is important, boss. Mackenzie’s MO never changes. He tells people very little. Even his wife has to fight for every morsel she can get.’

Faraday nodded in agreement. This had been one of the major surprises of the last week or so. Even Winter, who’d practically written the manual on withholding information, had been excluded from the Mackenzie loop.

‘So this guy
might
have been in touch?’ Willard wanted to be sure.

‘It’s possible, certainly.’

‘And Mackenzie might have negotiated the ransom demand down? Is that what we’re saying?’

‘Of course. By how much, I’ve no idea.’

‘This morning outside the bank …’ Willard had turned to the D/S from the Surveillance Unit. ‘You’ve got the shots?’

He fumbled in a file and produced a handful of surveillance photos. The sight of Winter toting a bulging pink rucksack across the Commercial Road shopping precinct drew a reaction from the faces around the table. Willard quelled the laughter with a look. Twenty-four-hour surveillance on the ex-D/C, he reminded the meeting, was costing a small fortune.

‘So what do we assume?’ He’d turned to Faraday.

‘We assume, sir, that Mackenzie and Winter have done some kind of deal. The bank disclosure was for a million quid. The money was paid in fifties. There’s just about room for the notes in a rucksack like that.’

‘And you’re telling me this is the ransom?’

‘Probably.’

‘To be handed over pretty much now?’

‘I’d imagine so. Mackenzie likes readies but there’s obviously a limit to how much you keep at home.’

Willard took a moment to digest this news. Then he brought the CPS lawyer into the debate. She was small and very pretty. Her name was Pauline. Suttle couldn’t take his eyes off her.

‘Pauline, supposing we intercept delivery of the ransom? Recover the money? What are the implications?’

‘In legal terms, you mean?’

‘Yes.’

She frowned, refusing to be rushed into an answer to what was a shrewd question. Faraday found himself applauding her composure.

‘There are two sides here,’ she said at last. ‘On the one hand I imagine you may end up hazarding the child’s life. That’s a matter of risk assessment, and as a lawyer I’d suggest you spread the consultation as high as possible. On the other hand, if Mr Mackenzie has refused to accept our help and advice, we might be able to make a case for aiding and abetting or even for obstructing the course of justice. It’s tricky, though. Helen’s right. There’s no way we can force our presence on the Mackenzies.’

‘What about the money? The ransom?’

‘That would be tainted, definitely. It’s being knowingly offered in the commission of a crime. Under the Proceeds of Crime Act, we’d have a case.’

‘And that could trigger restraint proceedings?’

‘Yes.’

The mobile belonging to the D/S from the Surveillance Unit began to beep. He checked it, muttered an apology and quickly left the room. Faraday caught Willard’s eye. He wanted to talk about the Norcliffes’ house out in the Meon Valley.

‘I can’t evidence this yet,’ he began, ‘but I’m beginning to have my doubts.’

‘About what?’

‘This whole thing. Number one, the scene was totally protected, state-of-the-art system, sensors everywhere, brand-new installation. The only way in was by someone somehow gaining access to a remote. Only two exist, one held by the father, Norcliffe, and the other by his wife, Mackenzie’s daughter. Unless someone’s been cloning remotes we have to start asking ourselves questions about both these parties.’

‘And number two?’

‘Mackenzie’s change of mind. I get the impression the pressure’s off.’ He was looking at Helen Christian. ‘Would that be right?’

‘As far as Mackenzie’s concerned, yes.’ She nodded. ‘He was as wound up as everyone else to begin with, but yesterday I definitely noticed a difference. His whole vibe had changed. He was cocky again. He was in
charge.
’

Willard looked at Faraday. ‘So what do we conclude, Joe?’