Blood Money (11 page)

The cat must have been dead for at least a couple of hours, its final smelly excretions have emptied out beside itself and it's already started to exhibit the stench of death, a disgusting rank odour, sour and burning. The smell gets stronger as John draws closer; the poor bastard's been skewered good and proper onto the wooden breadboard. As a police officer he's seen many things much worse, but this particular act of sickening violence is worryingly in his own home.

John is the first to speak, partly because Bill isn't sure of what to say under the circumstances. “I don't understand what's gone on here, but you've got to be pretty messed-up in the head to do something like this.”

“It looks to me like the only reason someone's entered your flat is to kill your pet cat.” Bill and John exchange confused looks at each other. Bill continues, “But what's worrying me is the fact that they got in so easily and were not only able to get past the alarm, but they seem to have re-set it before they left.” John looks at his partner closely; Bills logical assessment has cut immediately to the crucial point.

Bill stays at the doorway to the kitchen, careful not to touch anything. Both men know how important it is to keep foot traffic at a crime scene as light as possible. The fewer disturbances, the better chance the CSI officers will have of finding useful evidence. It's John's flat, so his fingerprints and DNA are all over it, as are Rebecca's, but it's best for Bill to keep his distance.

John summarises the situation perfectly, “Bill, whoever's done this is some fucked-up psychopath.”

Nodding in agreement it's clear to both men that the killer has taken pleasure in violently impaling an innocent and trusting family pet. John turns away, visibly disgusted by the sight, and raises the back of his hand to his mouth. Bill speaks up. “I'm not sure what to say…sorry about your cat of course, but why's someone done this? Why's nothing been nicked? There's no sign of a break-in, so what's going on here? It ain't normal. Somebody's playing games with you and whoever it is he's clearly dangerous.”

Not even attempting to answer his colleague's questions, John merely tells him “I've got to get out of here. We've seen enough. Let's go.”

Once out in the communal hallway, John goes back to fetch Rebecca whilst Bill calls in a forensics team and stands guard until a uniform arrives to secure the scene.

*

“Come on Becc's, I'm getting you out of here.”

John lets Mrs Tanner know everything's quite alright and they both thank her for her help. Leaving the Skoda vRS for Bill to get himself back to the station, they get into their own car, an old-style silver Mondeo estate which they have parked-up in one of the lock-up garages behind the block of flats.

Using his hands-free system as they travel, John makes a reservation for two people in one of the less expensive rooms in a modest hotel in Islington. It's dark now and he needs to get Rebecca somewhere clean, quiet and safe. The more he considers the facts of what's occurred back at the flat the more he fears they could be in grave danger. There's a lot of talking to be done, because whether she realises it or not Rebecca must know who's done this. And the sooner they figure out who that is the safer they'll be.

Checking-in for just one night, they go up to their room and order some food from the kitchens. Despite Rebecca saying that she isn't hungry she does manage to eat a little and once she's finished picking at her plate John initiates the conversation that will help him figure out exactly what this is all about.

“Are you calm enough to talk yet?

“Yes, I'm feeling better. I'm guessing it's not a burglary because nothing was stolen, right?”

“It's just a technicality, but even though nothing was stolen, the police will still treat it as burglary because a trespasser has entered a building and then committed a crime, but I know what you're saying. What's important is how the hell he managed to get in without forcing the door.”

“The fob for the burglar alarm has been taken off my keys, but all my keys are still there. The fob must've gone missing sometime today; I know because I'm sure I used it this morning to set the alarm when I left the flat.”

John considers the implications. “It's highly likely it was taken by the man who broke in. That says to me that whoever's done this has been very close to you today, or at least close to your handbag. And if he's taken the fob off your key ring it wouldn't have been too difficult for him to also get a copy of the front door key made whilst he'd been in possession of them.”

Rebecca feels a shiver running down her spine. “You're telling me this murdering bastard's been within feet of me sometime today?” She shakes her head in disbelief.

“Perhaps. Check your handbag. Did you have anything in there with our home address on it? A bill, a pay-slip, a letter…, something like that.”

“No, I don't think so.” Rebecca pauses, thinking carefully whilst she thoroughly checks in her handbag. “Actually, I'm pretty sure there wasn't. Why?”

“Well that makes things look even worse. It looks like he probably knows who you are, where you work, and he clearly knows where you live. He's also pretty resourceful because within a short space of time he's made copies of your keys and then returned them to you without you even noticing.” This time its John's turn to pause. “I was hoping that this was going to be about me, I'm a copper so I'm far more likely to be making enemies of bad people. However, it seems this is about you. In fact if he knew your boyfriend was a copper I'm pretty sure he wouldn't have done any of this.”

“What is it John? There's something else isn't there? I can see it in your face.”

“Bill was the first one to point it out. The really odd thing is why he set the alarm before he left. It's significant; it tells us he's playing with us. He's telling us he's got the fob, he's telling us he's been close to you. He's telling us he can get to you again and whenever he wants. Killing Mustard is the only thing he did back at the flat. The way he did it means he's trying to show us he's a killer. It's most likely a warning. Otherwise he could of just…”

John's words are sinking fast into Rebecca's head. “Otherwise he could have just waited for me to return home and then…” The colour visibly drains from her complexion.
“I need a drink.”

Getting a fistful of miniatures from the mini-bar, she cracks-off the top from the first one and no sooner has it's clear contents been poured into a glass then she begins drinking it down. “Please explain to me what this is all about?”

“If he wasn't there to steal then he did it to send one of us a message. He's saying he can get to us. He can break in whenever he likes and he has the power to do whatever he wants.”

“Yes, I guess that's one explanation, a message. Someone's trying to scare me and I can tell you its certainly working.”

“Anyone who can do that to an innocent animal is capable of doing the same to a person given the necessary circumstances. Cruelty to animals is a psychopathic trait. Whoever did this won't feel any guilt about what he's done; it may have even given him a thrill. The message is that he can get to us, but he's giving us a chance to back-off. I didn't see any note he left behind. Therefore it seems likely he thinks we've enough information to know what this is about, to know what it all means.”

“
But we don't do we?
I haven't a clue who would do this or why.”

John's cell phone rings and he can see from the caller display that it's Bill. Answering it immediately he puts his partner's concerns to rest. “Yeah, yeah, she's alright. A bit shaken-up, but alright.”

Bill brings John up-to-date by letting him know that the forensics team has just arrived and that they're estimating they'll be finished by about 12 o'clock tonight. Their lead man, Phil Bainbridge, will make contact with John in the morning to give him a summary of whatever they find.

“Look Bill, thanks for all your help today. I'll be in first thing, but I'm going to need to take most of the rest of the day off to sort out getting the alarm people in and having a locksmith come over to make the flat safe.”

John pauses on the phone whilst Bill tells him that he's happy to help in whatever way he can. His advice is for them not to worry and to try and get a good night's sleep.

“Ok pal, like I say, thanks for everything and I'll see you tomorrow.”

John dials up the alarm company and a good locksmith that he's used before at work and arranges for them to meet him at their flat on the Seven Sisters Road early tomorrow morning. He puts his phone away and looks up at Rebecca.

“I want you to think very carefully. Has anybody told you that you have to do something urgent for them? Have you been in a big argument recently? Do you know something important, something major that you've been told to keep quiet? Its gonna be a big deal…”

“Well yes, but it's only a work thing. My boss told me to stop going on about how we should investigate Kronos. Now that I think about it, he was acting very strange himself, a bit illogical and serious.
But we're talking about Tom Vaughan!
He's a total wimp and wouldn't hurt a fly.
He's a piss-head for goodness sake!
”

“That's right…Tom Vaughan…I met him that once in Canary Wharf when I came over to have lunch with you last summer. It can't be him that's for sure. He'd be scared of his own shadow.”

“This is crazy! I'm not sure I buy into your theory at all. I don't have enemies; I don't piss off my colleagues. No…it doesn't sound right. It's simply too far-fetched.” She shakes her head and opens a second miniature, pouring it into her glass. “There's got to be a simpler explanation John, you're seeing things that just aren't there.”

Draining a little more of the clear spirits from her glass, she comes up with an alternative suggestion. “I know! Maybe our cat upset someone who's a bit mental, a neighbour or someone. Maybe I'm imagining setting the alarm and I didn't close the door properly, maybe the fob broke off and got lost.”

After a watching a little television they realise it's getting late, so settling down the young couple try to get some sleep. John doesn't want to talk this thing through any more tonight. He'd rather they just get some rest and look at it afresh in the morning. Happy to let Rebecca think that it's all just a nasty series of coincidences, John wraps his arms around her and turns out the light.

It's all gonna make more sense come tomorrow.

Eddie has so far has failed to find out any information about Alexis's would-be kidnappers. His boss had been pretty sure he should be concentrating his efforts on looking for Greek nationals, suspecting that a criminal gang from his homeland had made him their target. So how hard could it be? Greeks in London? Buying AK-47's? It should stand out like an old nail.

Having only just started ringing round his network of ‘associates' he's pretty sure it's only a matter of time before he finds someone who can help him track them down.

Despite his lack of progress so far, he finds himself sitting in his private office feeling pretty relaxed this afternoon. Today's earlier events had proven to be highly enjoyable. Though he hadn't had much time to carry out Alexis's instructions; the time pressure and the need to improvise on the hoof only made it even more of an accomplishment. He'd taken a great deal of professional pleasure in being able to get so close to his mark before breaking into her place and doing what needed to be done.

Arriving in Canary Wharf just before midday, he'd only had a short time to wait before the droves of office robots started leaving for their lunch breaks. Waiting patiently just across the road from the FSA building, he'd recognised his mark ‘Rebecca Kavanagh', from her social media pictures as she'd left the building. Oh…if only all his targets could be pretty girls like her.

The heaving throng of workers making their way into the mall's trendy restaurants and snack bars made it easy for him to blend in; following her closely it hadn't been difficult to get near enough so that he could dip his hand into her shoulder bag as they brushed past each other.

Descending down into the basement car-park, he'd awkwardly gotten into the cramped space in the back of his old Ford escort van. Kitted-out with everything he needed to carry-out these sort of nefarious activities, the small ‘Tempest' key-cutting machine, powered by a 12V car battery had made a copy of her door cylinder key in less than thirty seconds. Loading the original into the holder on the left, and putting a blank into the holder on the right, the machine ‘followed' the original's profile so the grinding wheel duplicated its teeth and grooves exactly. The five-lever deadlock key took a little longer to copy, and on seeing the little black fob he'd recognised it straight-away for what it was. Unclipping it from the key ring he slipped it into his coat pocket.

He was back-up in the restaurant area in less than 5 minutes.

She looked so natural and pretty, talking to her friends as she left the salad bar, he just hadn't been able to resist sniffing her lightly perfumed hair as he gently dropped the keys back into her bag.

*

When he'd gotten inside her pokey little apartment he'd opened up a seam in the bottom of the lounge curtains. With the dumb cat rubbing itself up-against his legs he'd inserted the listening device before closing-up the seam again with a dab of superglue. Years of experience had taught him that hiding small bugs in curtains allows them to do their job pretty much unimpeded and also makes the unit was practically undiscoverable.

The drawback with using such miniature listening devices is that their tiny batteries limit them to a short life and an even shorter signal range.

The cat? Only sad and lonely women have cats, shitting all over their neighbours gardens.

Pictures of the pathetic little creature were all over her social networking site, so Eddie knew before entering that it was available for him to use as his ‘warning'.

Wielding a knife again had been a true pleasure. No weapon could make a kill so personal, especially if you have the time to stare the terrified victim in the eyes as they realise their time has come at last.

Taking a life had become a very personal thing for Eddie. Even though (this time) it'd just been an animal it had still given him a buzz. Killing was what he was born to do and the more he does it the more fulfilled he feels. Very few people have the strength to do it, but he does and that's what makes him so special.

The FSA girl will have to wait for now, after all…she's not going anywhere. And Eddie's gut tells him she surely doesn't pose too serious a threat, unlike those four balaclava wearing gun-toting maniacs he's supposed to be hunting-down.

His self-satisfied thoughts of earlier are brought to an abrupt halt by the vibrations coming from his phone. Taking the call, he begins speaking to a career criminal he knows only as Mick. This long-time associate starts to tell him about a bit of hardware he'd sold to some Greek boys ten days ago. When he'd seen on the news about the incident involving Eddie's gaffer, he thought he'd pass on this very valuable information. After a prolonged pause, Eddie responds, “How valuable do you think this information is?”

Sixty thousand pounds valuable, payable up-front in cash. However if Eddie can see his way clear to retrieving the ‘hardware' for him then there'll be a rebate of twenty large payable on their return. Clearly the price he's asking is outrageous, but Mick's betting a man as rich as Vasilakos will pay it. And he's right; Eddie doesn't have time to waste on quibbling and he agrees to trade. They arrange to meet in a pub just off Moorgate in one hour, “I'll be in the corner playing on the fruit machine.”

“Okay Mick, see you at four o'clock. I'll have the readies, but your intel had better be worth it.”

“Oh it will be, Eddie. You know me well enough to know I'm not going to be wasting your time.”

*

Alexis heartily approves of the arrangement and goes straight to his 3rd floor office to open-up his personal safe. Getting out sufficient pre-counted bundles of cash for the payment, he hands Eddie six fat wads, each containing 500 used twenty pound notes. Eddie puts them in a lightweight duffle bag, sufficient to disguise the contents and anonymous enough to be ignored. He then leaves the building and coolly walks through the London streets to meet his informant.

Inside the nearly empty city boozer, Eddie finds his man playing on the fruit-machine just as he'd said. “Mick.” The man turns away from the gambling machine's flashing lights and shoots a glance over to the pub entrance where Eddie is standing. Nodding down at the bag he's carrying he asks “Is it all there?”

Approaching closer, Eddie discretely opens it up just enough so he can glimpse the bundles lying inside without anyone else noticing. He whispers almost inaudibly “Sixty large, used twenties.”

Mick is understandably twitchy and keeps glancing around conspicuously whilst getting Eddie a pint. Then they go over to the far corner, well away from where the other punters are drinking to make the exchange.

The information he gets for the money proves well worth it. Some ten days ago, two Greek thugs wanting some fire-power had been pointed in Mick's direction. No names were given and no names were asked. When you buy illegal, unlicensed shooters in London you're buying from the criminal underworld. Mick takes plenty of risk in selling such gear, but he gets respect and makes a good living out of it.

The strangers had selected two AK-47's and a couple of Browning semi-automatic handguns. From the way the two men inspected the guns it was obvious they knew their firearms. After grunting their approval at what was on offer they took a few moments to discuss how much ammunition they'd need and then tried unsuccessfully to talk-down the price. What leverage they thought they had to pay any less than the going rate was a total mystery to Mick. “Suppose being from out of town they didn't know that kit like this is pretty hard to get hold of, even in the East End.”

Life-long villains like Mick have to make it their business to keep tabs on what's going down in their manor. On production of the necessary cash, Mick had put the weapons into a black holdall for them. But this had been no gesture of goodwill, for in its base he'd got hidden a tiny GPS tracking device, a precaution he always uses with customers he doesn't know and who are clearly out to cause trouble.

When the two Greek men had left his lock-up, he'd watched them meet-up with another pair of similar looking men waiting outside in a white BMW. Only yesterday he'd had an associate check on their current location in south Lincolnshire. And they're still there, holed-up in a run-down bungalow in the middle of some sparsely populated farmland, and by all accounts keeping a very low profile.

“
You've come up trumps there Mick!
Saved me a lot of legwork that has.”

“No worries mate, thought you'd be chuffed.” Eddie slides the bag of cash across the floor towards Mick's feet and across the top of table Mick slides Eddie a photo of the bungalow. “I've written the coordinates on the back for you.”

The picture was taken from some distance away, and shows just how flat and remote the location is. The building stands on its own, with nothing for miles around. Eddie smiles broadly to himself. What might serve as a perfect place to lie-low and stay out of sight is also a perfect place for him to ambush without attracting unwanted attention. Slater gets up to leave the boozer and Mick reminds him in a hushed tone “And if you could see your way clear to return the hardware…I've got a bit more use to get out of them over the next few years.”

“Sure Mick, I'll see what I can do. Thanks again. Call you in a couple of days.”

*

Walking back over to Lombard Street, Eddie Slater's normally stern face shows just an inkling of a smile. He loves his job. He really, really loves his job. Not only has he just been given another opportunity to do what he does best, assignments like this merit bonus payments of £20k and then there's the added windfall of another £20k going straight into Eddie's back pocket if he's able to return the guns. Whichever way he looks at it, its win-win-win.

As soon as he's back inside his windowless office Eddie shuts the door and opens up a map of south Lincolnshire. When you're planning a job like this it's best to avoid the internet. You can never be sure if the police will be able to use it to connect you to the crime at some point in the future. He finds the location and phones his boss to come down to hear his ‘good news'

Ten minutes later, the video screen shows that his boss is just outside, so he buzzes open the door's electronic lock. Once the door is closed again, Eddie delivers his situation report.

“I've got their exact location, and as you suspected, they're Greek. There are just four of them and they purchased two AK-47's and two handguns exactly ten days ago from a contact of mine. And they were driving around London in an identical white BMW so I'm certain that these are the same people.” Showing Alexis the surveillance photo, he continues with his briefing. “They're hiding in this shitty little bungalow in remote fenland near ‘The Wash'. The intel is bang up-to-date and my informant's even had them under very recent observation.”

Alexis nods his approval. “Excellent work. What do you advise?”

“It's my professional opinion that they're either waiting for the dust to settle so they can slip back into mainland Europe with less chance of being stopped, or they're waiting for further instructions. Worst case…they might even be planning for a second attempt.”

Alexis nods in agreement. “Well, they need to be dealt with, and as quickly as possible, before they move location.”

“Agreed. That does seem to me to be the best course of action. You do understand these are professional criminals and they're armed, so we can't afford to take chances.”

“Plan it accordingly, but let's get onto these pricks straight away. I'll need to question them of course; as it's imperative to find out who, if anyone, sent them to attack me.”

“
There's no need for you to get yourself involved in this Alexis.
These are dangerous men. It's best you leave it to me.”

“So, what if they hardly speak any English? What if they only speak Greek? Who's going to question them then? – They could mug you off by giving you the name of a Greek vegetable and you wouldn't know any better.”

“I see your point. But if you insist on questioning them personally, you're making my job much harder than it need be.”

But Eddie can see from his face that Alexis won't budge. “Ok, ok, but you'll have to stay out of the way until the building is secure and I give you the ‘all clear'. And you do realise I'm gonna need the help of some outside contractors with this one…”

“Whatever it takes. You plan it. I'll pay it.”

“Okay boss. There's a couple of pals from the regiment who'd appreciate a job like this. They won't mind dealing with shits like these if the money's right. They're out of work, bored and skint. I'll tell them we're ‘putting down an imbedded terrorist cell' and if I call them right now, we might even be able to go up there tonight and hit them in the early hours. I think I've got all the gear we need and it is best we act quickly.”

*

At 2am in the morning, a stolen Ford Transit is slowly approaching Eddie's agreed rendezvous location which lies halfway along an isolated single-track lane deep in some monotonously-flat farmland. On finding the black Range Rover (fitted with false number plates just for tonight's escapade) they park-up behind it, and it's two passengers dressed in black military fatigues get out and climb into the back of the command vehicle whilst moonlit clouds speed seaward overhead.

Alexis is mightily pleased to see Eddie's two ex-regimental colleagues even though they're 30 minutes late, as he'd begun to fear that tonight's mission was going to have to be postponed due to lack of manpower. They apologise profusely for being delayed, but finding this exact spot in such a dark and featureless landscape without a satnav had proven harder then they'd anticipated.

Eddie had been very strict that nobody was to bring along with them any mobile phones, Blackberrys or sat-navs. Such electronic devices are a bloody liability on a job like this and without exception all such gadgets had to be left at home.