having...how do you call it...the times of her life.”
Albert glanced suspiciously at the still-chuckling Serge. “How do you mean?”
“ My friend, you pay us thirty thousand pounds for to make this kidnap. We see the woman. She is old. We have a meeting. We decide that we can tie her up like in the movies and make ten years in prison if we are caught or we can take her for a holiday.”
“ What are you trying to tell me?”
“ The old woman is in Greece. One of my cousins owns a villa there on a little island with no phones. He tell her that she won some competition or something. One month holiday. No expenses,” Serge turned to look at Albert, “My friend. We are not so stupid.”
We stopped by the lock up to check on Devoy. The doctor had done an excellent job; fed and watered as per instructions. Albert told him that it would only be another day or so. The UV lamps were all working perfectly and the freezers were at a constant minus five. Fuck it felt good to be home.
Albert drove the camper van back to the Epping Forest campsite. After several drinks in the bar we headed back through the woods to Laputa. We slept like babies that night.
*
“ Matthew Gerradine speaking.”
“ Is that with one R or two?”
“ Mr. Madison?”
“ Are your police friends still hanging around?”
“ No, I have relinquished all affiliation.”
“ Good boy. Now listen carefully. Your mother has not been hurt...yet, but it will only take one phone call, do you understand?”
“ Yes.”
“ Are you sure?”
“ Yes.”
“ So tell me Mr. Gerradine, WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU PLAYING AT?”
“ It was Pearson, the Assistant Chief Constable. He knows it’s you. He wanted me to get some evidence. He’s hell bent on discrediting the investigation.”
“ How close is he?”
“ What do you mean?”
“ Does he have any evidence?”
“ Nothing. He even lost track of Abdul Hamid. We know he was in Scotland but something seems to have spooked him and he fled.”
“ Don’t worry about that little bastard. I know exactly where he is. Tell me Matthew, you don’t mind if I call you Matthew, do you?”
“ Go right ahead Mr. Madison, Sir.”
“ So Matthew tell me. Do you think what we have been doing is wrong?”
Silence.
“ Hello? I asked you a question Matthew.”
“ How many?”
“ How many what?”
“ How many have you killed?”
“ Oh fuck knows? Maybe fourteen or fifteen.”
Silence.
“ And how many more?”
“ Tell me more about this character Pearson. Why has he got it in for me.”
“ No, no, it’s nothing personal Mr. Madison, he wants to make his boss out to be incompetent so he can step into his shoes.”
“ Nothing personal. Nothing fucking personal? Matthew. I am going to ask you a question and I want you to picture your mother when I ask it. Picture her bound and gagged in a rat-infested cellar somewhere, crying, begging for her life. Can you see her?”
“ Yes. Yes I can see her.”
“ Now tell me truthfully Matthew, is Pearson planning to offer a reward for me?”
A long pause, then “Yes.”
Meddling pig bastard. No one was going to stop us now. We were too close.
“ Is he corruptible?”
“ What? You mean money?”
“ Of course I mean money.”
“ I suppose you could try, but I think it’s more about power.”
“ I’ll need an address.”
“ No, no, I can’t.”
“ Who is more important to you Matthew? Your mother or your police friend.”
Silence.
“ 54 Dennison Park Road, Hampstead.”
“ Good boy.”
Click.
*
Albert let himself in with the Sputnik lock-pick. The house was obviously a reflection of its owner’s mind. Everything was spick and span, verging on the compulsive. It was a shrine to William J. Pearson’s police career. The mantelpiece and walls were adorned with certificates, awards and photographs. This was obviously the sort of man who couldn’t wash off the uniform.
Albert had fastened the CS canisters to the
Albert glanced suspiciously at the still-chuckling Serge. “How do you mean?”
“ My friend, you pay us thirty thousand pounds for to make this kidnap. We see the woman. She is old. We have a meeting. We decide that we can tie her up like in the movies and make ten years in prison if we are caught or we can take her for a holiday.”
“ What are you trying to tell me?”
“ The old woman is in Greece. One of my cousins owns a villa there on a little island with no phones. He tell her that she won some competition or something. One month holiday. No expenses,” Serge turned to look at Albert, “My friend. We are not so stupid.”
We stopped by the lock up to check on Devoy. The doctor had done an excellent job; fed and watered as per instructions. Albert told him that it would only be another day or so. The UV lamps were all working perfectly and the freezers were at a constant minus five. Fuck it felt good to be home.
Albert drove the camper van back to the Epping Forest campsite. After several drinks in the bar we headed back through the woods to Laputa. We slept like babies that night.
*
“ Matthew Gerradine speaking.”
“ Is that with one R or two?”
“ Mr. Madison?”
“ Are your police friends still hanging around?”
“ No, I have relinquished all affiliation.”
“ Good boy. Now listen carefully. Your mother has not been hurt...yet, but it will only take one phone call, do you understand?”
“ Yes.”
“ Are you sure?”
“ Yes.”
“ So tell me Mr. Gerradine, WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU PLAYING AT?”
“ It was Pearson, the Assistant Chief Constable. He knows it’s you. He wanted me to get some evidence. He’s hell bent on discrediting the investigation.”
“ How close is he?”
“ What do you mean?”
“ Does he have any evidence?”
“ Nothing. He even lost track of Abdul Hamid. We know he was in Scotland but something seems to have spooked him and he fled.”
“ Don’t worry about that little bastard. I know exactly where he is. Tell me Matthew, you don’t mind if I call you Matthew, do you?”
“ Go right ahead Mr. Madison, Sir.”
“ So Matthew tell me. Do you think what we have been doing is wrong?”
Silence.
“ Hello? I asked you a question Matthew.”
“ How many?”
“ How many what?”
“ How many have you killed?”
“ Oh fuck knows? Maybe fourteen or fifteen.”
Silence.
“ And how many more?”
“ Tell me more about this character Pearson. Why has he got it in for me.”
“ No, no, it’s nothing personal Mr. Madison, he wants to make his boss out to be incompetent so he can step into his shoes.”
“ Nothing personal. Nothing fucking personal? Matthew. I am going to ask you a question and I want you to picture your mother when I ask it. Picture her bound and gagged in a rat-infested cellar somewhere, crying, begging for her life. Can you see her?”
“ Yes. Yes I can see her.”
“ Now tell me truthfully Matthew, is Pearson planning to offer a reward for me?”
A long pause, then “Yes.”
Meddling pig bastard. No one was going to stop us now. We were too close.
“ Is he corruptible?”
“ What? You mean money?”
“ Of course I mean money.”
“ I suppose you could try, but I think it’s more about power.”
“ I’ll need an address.”
“ No, no, I can’t.”
“ Who is more important to you Matthew? Your mother or your police friend.”
Silence.
“ 54 Dennison Park Road, Hampstead.”
“ Good boy.”
Click.
*
Albert let himself in with the Sputnik lock-pick. The house was obviously a reflection of its owner’s mind. Everything was spick and span, verging on the compulsive. It was a shrine to William J. Pearson’s police career. The mantelpiece and walls were adorned with certificates, awards and photographs. This was obviously the sort of man who couldn’t wash off the uniform.
Albert had fastened the CS canisters to the
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