The Toy Taker (50 page)

‘Even the Hargraves?’

Sean paused for a second before answering. ‘Yes,’ he told her. ‘I understand where you’re coming from, but I can’t take the chance of leaving them out. They may be the only ones who can tie this all up. I need them on the call.’

‘OK,’ Sally told him. ‘I’ll get it sorted and call you back.’

Sean hung up and turned his attention back to Helen Varndell. ‘Is it possible the man from the shop could have followed you home?’

‘I don’t see how,’ she answered. ‘When we left the shop he was busy serving other customers.’

‘What about someone else? Did anyone else follow you from the shop?’

‘I don’t … I can’t remember.’

‘He knew where you lived,’ Sean told her brutally, ‘so either he followed you or he had you followed … or,’ he stuttered for a second as another thought entered the maze of his mind, ‘or you told him your address.’

‘Why would we have done that?’

‘I don’t know,’ Sean admitted. ‘Maybe you filled something out in the shop – some kind of form. Something you wrote your name and address on?’

Her eyes darted in all directions as she struggled to remember, not wanting to rush her recall and scare her memories away. ‘My husband – he filled something in. The shopkeeper said it was for a competition.’

‘So he knew where you lived? You told him where you lived?’

‘Yes,’ she confessed, ‘but how could we possibly have known?’

‘You couldn’t,’ he replied softly.

For a few seconds they stood in silence, each trying to comprehend. Then his vibrating, ringing phone broke the trance.

‘Sally?’

‘I have the Family Liaison Officers standing by,’ Sally told him. ‘What d’you need to know?’

Sean took a breath and steadied himself. ‘I need you to ask whether any of them have recently been to a toyshop in Hampstead.’

‘A toyshop?’ Sally quizzed.

‘Please, Sally,’ he snapped, ‘just ask.’

He listened as she put the question to the Family Liaison Officers on the conference call, and then he waited in silence for the answer. He heard Sally breathing into the phone before she spoke and already knew he had his man.

‘Jesus Christ, Sean – how did you know?’

‘Long story,’ he answered, unwilling and unable to dwell on his success. ‘You need to ask if any of them can remember the name of the shop. Mrs Varndell was in it too, but she can’t remember what it’s called. Can any of them remember?’

‘Hold on …’

Again he could hear Sally repeating the question into the other phone. This time there was a longer pause, each second making him fear the worst, before Sally came back on the line. ‘Sorry, no. None of them can remember its name.’

‘Damn it,’ Sean answered, before recovering his optimism. ‘Never mind. We know it’s an old-fashioned toyshop in Hampstead – it can’t be too difficult to find.’

‘Sean, wait!’ Suddenly Sally was back on the line, cutting across him. He listened to more voices, straining without success to follow the conversation. Then Sally returned. ‘Mrs Fellowes says it’s called the Rocking Horse and it’s in Heysham Lane, Hampstead. She bought a doll from there for Bailey. She says you know which one.’ Sean’s mind filled with the picture of the ornate doll he’d lifted from amongst Bailey’s other toys. ‘Sean?’ Sally prompted him.

‘It was there all the time,’ he told her. ‘In Bailey’s bedroom – the answer was always there. I held it in my hand, Sally – I held the answer in my hand, but I missed it.’

‘We all did,’ she reminded him, ‘but you’ve put it together now. I don’t know how, but I know nobody else could have. Question is – what d’you want to do next? Surveillance? Have the TSG take him out?’

‘No. This one’s no Thomas Keller. He’s no danger to me.’

‘And the children?’

‘They’ll be close. He’ll be keeping them close.’

‘But if he sees us coming?’

‘If he sees us coming I’m not sure what he’ll do – so we don’t let that happen.’

‘How can we—’

‘Meet me in Heysham Lane as soon as you can. Just you, Donnelly and one other. Travel in two cars and park out of sight at either end of the road, and then wait for me. Tell nobody where you’re going or what you’re doing. Understand?’

‘I understand. I’ll update you with his description en route,’ she assured him. ‘Travelling time from the Yard,’ were her last words before she hung up, leaving him alone once more with Helen Varndell.

‘Have you found him?’ she asked as soon as he lowered the phone from his ear. ‘Have you found Victoria?’

‘I can’t promise that.’ Sean’s voice was shaking in the effort to suppress his excitement, he was almost beside himself, wanting nothing more than to get to his car and attach the magnetic blue light to its roof, parting the late-morning traffic like a wolf cutting through a flock of sheep. ‘But I promise I’ll do everything I can to bring her back to you – whatever it takes.’

Sean walked slowly along Heysham Lane, his collar turned up against the persistent cold, one more local businessman late for work or on his way to a meeting. He walked straight past the Rocking Horse toyshop with barely a glance inside, but it was enough. He found Donnelly’s unmarked car behind a van and tapped twice on the window before jumping in the passenger seat.

‘What took you?’ Donnelly asked.

‘Been walking the area a bit,’ Sean told him.

‘And?’

‘And we’re in the right place.’

‘You sure?’

‘I’m sure,’ Sean assured him. ‘He’s skilled enough to make clockwork toys. Not much of a stretch from that to picking locks. He lives in the right area, he knew all their addresses and he understands children and toys. Last but not least, he’s the only thing that connects all four families. He feels right. He just feels right.’

‘How did he get their addresses?’

‘Had them fill in some forms for a bogus competition. Everything he needed to know, the families gave him themselves.’

‘You know they all did this?’ Donnelly asked.

‘Yeah, I confirmed it on the way here. The bastard broke into their homes the night before he took the children and stole their favourite soft toy or doll – learned all he needed to know about the inside of the house, then the next night he comes back, with the same toy – gives it back to the kid and makes himself an instant hero. No wonder they went with him so easily – so quietly.’

‘Fuck me,’ Donnelly answered, trying to understand the mind of a man who would do such things. ‘So what now? Surveillance?’

‘No. Won’t tell us anything.’

‘Could tell us if the children are here, assuming they’re—’

‘They’re here,’ Sean insisted. ‘I know they’re here.’

‘Maybe he keeps them somewhere else,’ Donnelly suggested. ‘Just in case anyone comes sniffing around the shop. Maybe he lives somewhere else himself?’

‘No,’ Sean told him. ‘Zukov checked the local retailers’ register. The same man who owns the shop is shown as owning and living in the residential property above it: Douglas Allen, male, white, fifty-eight years old. He’s our man.’

‘But why?’ Donnelly asked. ‘Why take these children if he’s no paedophile or child-pedlar?’

‘That’s what I intend to ask him,’ Sean told him while looking in the wing mirror of the car until he saw what he was waiting for – a mother entering the shop with her two young children. ‘That’s what I intend to ask him right now.’ He tried to spring from the car, but a heavy arm from Donnelly stopped him.

‘Last time you took one of these psychos on alone it didn’t end too well, I seem to remember.’

‘This is different,’ Sean insisted.

‘All the same, I think I’ll tag along with you.’

‘No,’ Sean ordered. ‘I need to see him alone with a family. Once I’ve seen that, I’ll call you straight away. I promise.’

Donnelly released his arm and sank back into the seat, resigned to Sean’s intentions. ‘Just … just don’t push your luck, guv’nor. OK?’

Sean looked him in the eyes for a brief moment. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.’

Donnelly’s quiet reply was lost to him as he opened the door. ‘Aye. Of course you will. Of course you will.’

Sean moved quickly along the pavement, clocking Sally and Zukov parked at the other end of the street. He reached the Rocking Horse and entered, scanning the shop without making eye contact with anybody – he wanted to get his bearings and settle his mind before engaging anyone in any way. He ignored the displays of ornate, traditional and clockwork toys and headed for a corner of the shop seemingly set aside for the more modern – Lego, Duplo, Airfix and even Action Man. There was a distinct lack of anything computer-based.

Once he felt comfortable in his surroundings Sean began to covertly look around the shop, his attention closing in on a short, stocky man dressed in grey flannel trousers with a maroon V-neck jumper pulled tight over a white shirt and red tie. The man had to be at least fifty-five, with a small gut, but he looked nimble and strong, although Sean noticed he was stooping slightly. As he talked to the mother and her two young children the shopkeeper maintained a constant smile, but his face wore a troubled expression, as if he was bearing some great burden. Sean knew what it was.
Douglas Allen
, he spoke silently inside his mind,
I’ve come to take you away, my friend. It’s time to go. It’s time to end this ugly game
.

He listened in to their conversation, watching every move Allen made, waiting for him to turn round and see him standing there, instinctively aware of who he was. But Allen was no Sebastian Gibran or John Conway – ready and willing to kill at the drop of a hat to save his own skin. This was an individual who was broken inside and confused about the world around him. Nevertheless it was Sean’s job to bring that world crashing down.

‘These are very popular,’ Allen told the tall, well-spoken woman who held on to her children as they tried to pull away from her. He held out a porcelain-faced doll in a lace dress. ‘I import them from Paris. They’re handmade – their faces painted by true craftsmen, so each has its own expression and personality.’

‘A bit like a Cabbage Patch Doll,’ the mother told him unwisely, wiping the thin smile from Allen’s face.

‘Quite.’ He bent down to show the doll to the eldest girl, who Sean guessed could only be five or six. ‘And what do you think?’ he asked her. ‘Do you like this dolly?’

‘I think she’s beautiful,’ the little girl answered, her wide smile revealing perfect white milk teeth as her blue eyes sparkled with happiness.

‘Yes, she is, isn’t she – almost as beautiful as if she was alive. But who’s this we have here?’ Allen asked, gently touching the small, beige teddy bear, almost squashed flat through years of being held too tightly by the little girl.

‘That’s Mr Teddy,’ the mother answered for her with arching eyebrows. ‘Mr Teddy goes everywhere.’

‘Then he must be very special?’ Allen asked.

‘Mr Teddy’s the most special,’ the little girl told him.

‘Of course he is, but I bet you’d like this doll?’ he suggested.

‘I’m not sure,’ the mother interceded. ‘It looks very expensive, for a young child’s toy.’

‘You can’t put a value on quality,’ Allen argued. ‘You can’t compare these beautiful Parisian dolls to the cheap rubbish they mass produce in Taiwan, or China I suppose it is now. These dolls were made to last a lifetime.’

‘So long as they’re never played with,’ the mother joked, but Allen wasn’t laughing.

‘Please, Mummy,’ the little girl pleaded, tugging at her mother’s coat. ‘Please can you get her?’

‘No, darling,’ the mother insisted. ‘It’s not even a toy. It’s more like an ornament. Pick something you can play with. Look – they’ve got Lego over there.’

‘Yes. Yes,’ Allen agreed, carefully placing the doll back on its shelf. ‘We have some Lego. In fact, we’re having a little competition at the moment. First prize is quite a collection of Lego, or you could always choose the doll as a prize.’

‘Mummy, Mummy, I want to win the dolly,’ the little girl chirped excitedly.

‘Wait. Wait,’ the mother told her. ‘Fine. How do we enter? What do I have to do?’

‘Just fill in this form.’ Allen held out a piece of paper, but the mother stopped him.

‘I really don’t have time to start filling in forms. I’ve kind of got my hands full here.’

‘Of course. Then please allow me to fill it in for you,’ he offered, hurrying behind the counter to retrieve a pen. He looked at Sean for the first time since he’d entered the shop. ‘I’ll be with you in one moment, sir.’

Sean nodded turning away to examine the Lego, allowing Allen to focus on the mother.

‘Now, if I could just take your name, Mrs …?’

She barely paused before answering. ‘Mrs Orwin – Carine Orwin.’

‘And the names of your children?’

‘This is Anarra,’ she told him, pointing to the older girl. ‘She’s almost six. And this is Lucy. She’s still only three.’

‘And your address?’

‘Nassington Road, next to the Heath.’

‘A beautiful street,’ he added. ‘Your husband must have a wonderful job?’

Her pride overcame her suspicions. ‘He works in the City.’

‘A banker?’

‘No,’ she answered, keen to avoid the stigma of being associated with that profession. ‘He’s a trader.’

‘I never can work out the difference,’ Allen admitted with a smile before moving on. ‘And your telephone number? Home number will be fine.’

‘Sure – it’s 0207 151 3728. Do you want the email address too?’

‘No. No. I’m not much of a one for email. I’m sure I’ll be able to get hold of you if you win. Nassington Road’s so close I could always drop it in to you.’

‘Always best to call first,’ the mother told him. ‘We’re out and about a lot.’

‘I’m sure you are, although I’ve never seen you in here before – are you new to the area?’

‘No,’ she answered casually. ‘We’ve lived here for a few years now.’

‘And what a wonderful place to live,’ Allen replied, ‘although one always has to guard against break-ins in an area like this.’

‘I’m sorry, I don’t …’ the mother began, a little confused.

‘A wealthy area such as this will always attract an unsavoury element, I’m afraid. It pays to have a good security system, don’t you agree?’