Seizure (33 page)

Then he thought about his conversation with FB. Had he given Henry carte blanche to do something illegal?

His thoughts tumbled as sleep encroached . . . He rather liked Flynn in a curious way; he was the sort of bobby who, when young, had gone on foot patrol around town centres, purposely kicking drunks on the shins to wind them up . . . just like Henry used to do . . . And Lisa, God what a pain! Involved with some very unsavoury people . . . Then Henry saw himself sitting on a beach, sunning himself . . . he needed a good, long holiday . . . He yawned and looked at the bedside clock.

Flynn had not bothered going to bed. He sat alone in Faye's living room drinking tap water, fighting the urge to pour a very large whisky. He needed a drink. His mind was a jumble.

He seethed angrily as he thought about Jack Hoyle, ex-partner, disloyal bastard, a man who'd stolen his wife (then dumped her) and a million quid. Bastard. Flynn's heart pounded against his ribs. It had been Jack who, twenty years earlier, had introduced him to sportfishing. In those heady, premarital days, they had holidayed together regularly in the Canaries and even once got across to Key West to have a go at some classic marlin fishing. It had been a journey that filled them both with excitement and desire. Even at weekends, they'd go sea fishing together off one of the east coast ports or North Wales. Jack had taken his master's certificate and was an excellent seaman. No way, Flynn thought, had he capsized a fishing boat. He'd been too good for that . . . but a million smackers coupled with a coincidental disappearance? Flynn mulled it over bitterly. No body found.

And then Craig, his son.

Flynn's insides felt as if they'd been scraped out. He was out of his depth with a task he thought would have been well within his capabilities. He knew it was beyond him alone.

Henry's mind was now awash with disjointed images and voices. Sleep had almost overwhelmed him. Nothing was happening in his head that made any sense.

His mobile phone rang on the bedside cabinet. He jerked into an unpleasant wakefulness, his fingers searching for it.

Next to him he heard Kate mutter, ‘Fuck!'

‘Henry Christie,' he said thickly.

‘Henry, it's me, Flynn . . . I need to see you urgently.'

EIGHTEEN

‘
I
don't want any of you to feel obliged that you have to become involved in this – no pressure, honestly. But if you do want to walk away, all I ask is that you keep silent. I promise no one will ever know this meeting occurred and you will not be connected to anything that happens subsequently from here. What I'm proposing is illegal and if we get caught doing it, we're for the high jump – unless I can cover it up.'

Henry looked at the people gathered in his office, maybe not the most suitable place in which to organize a secret meeting, but probably as good as anywhere at five in the morning.

Four out of the five he trusted implicitly. The fifth he was still unsure about, but he was starting to warm to him.

Bill Robbins shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Bill and Henry went back a long way, but most recently had been involved in apprehending dangerous terrorists and bent cops. Jerry Tope had assisted Henry on some successful investigations and had already shown his willingness to duck around corners, especially by hacking into computers to get results. He'd brought Rik Dean into this because even though he wasn't operationally fit yet, his experience would be useful to Henry. He and Rik also went back a long time and the fact Rik was now screwing his sister gave an extra hold on him. Next was DC John Walker from the Technical Support Unit; John had provided Henry with off-the-record surveillance and recording equipment in the past and could be relied on to keep his mouth tight.

Finally there was Steve Flynn . . . Henry glanced at him, still in two minds.

The call from Flynn came at one forty a.m., almost two hours after Henry had gone to bed. Many minutes of tossing and turning, closing his ears to Kate's increasingly loud snoring. He had almost told Flynn where to get off, but relented and told him to make his way to Henry's house.

Henry dragged himself quietly out of bed, got dressed on the landing and went to wait for Flynn.

When he arrived, tired and exhausted looking, Henry knew something major was about to be revealed.

Flynn decided to tell everything, up to a point. Just the truth he wanted Henry to know and nothing else that might complicate matters – such as the fact that two dead bodies and several firearms could be found in a deep gorge in Gran Canaria.

He told him about Gill Hartland, the TV exposure following the rescue of the boat people, and the subsequent visit of Jackman and Cromer.

They had retired to Henry's conservatory, where Henry had drawn the blinds and switched on the heater to ward off the chill.

As Flynn told Henry about Jackman and Cromer, he stood up, pulling up his T-shirt to show Henry the triangular burn mark on his nipple made by the travel iron. Henry gasped, appalled.

‘Gill managed to raise the alarm and they fled,' Flynn said. ‘They never came back, but unfortunately she had a brain haemorrhage from one of the blows and died on the plane home.' Flynn had to gather himself. ‘Never came back, never saw them again.'

Next he told Henry of the reappearance of his ex-wife, telling him the story of Craig's kidnap and the demand for the return of the missing money. Flynn said, ‘I never really believed the money existed, but it did. Maybe not a mill, but an awful lot. And Jack Hoyle took it.'

‘But you two led the raid. Surely you must have known.'

‘I've thought it through and through. I mean, the raid was a mass of confusion, especially when the shooting started. I went in first, with Jack behind me, but I now recall looking around and he wasn't there. Other cops were, he wasn't. Then something happened and I turned back to the action. When I looked again he was at the foot of the stairs. He'd obviously shot up, found the bags of money and tossed them out of a window. His informant caught them, then legged it. He was back downstairs within seconds.'

‘Why were no police outside, covering the rear?'

‘We went in based on information from Jack – that the rear door was sealed and unusable. I took him at his word – why wouldn't I? – because I trusted him. But on reflection, how many drug dealers' houses exist without a quick exit? I was naïve,' Flynn concluded sadly. ‘But the money existed. I tracked down Jack's informant earlier and he spilled the beans. But all that's past. All that matters now is Craig, but if Deakin gets wind the cops are involved, he'll be dead. I know it.'

‘He's certainly capable – and desperate.'

‘Oh yeah. When I was backgrounding him, a lot of stuff was unearthed about his violent streak. He's suspected of murdering rivals and people who short change him. One of them was a seventeen-year-old lad from Merseyside. Craig's fourteen.'

‘But in cold blood?'

‘I don't want to take the chance. So, Henry, are you going to help or not? If not, I'm off now and I'll take my chances.'

‘Henry – stop beating about the bush,' Bill Robbins said. ‘You know you can trust everyone in this room.' He glanced unsurely at Flynn, but went on, ‘So spit it out. We'll either be with you or walk out and keep our gobs shut.'

All heads nodded agreement.

‘It's not as though we haven't done anything illegal for you before, is it?' Jerry Tope said. Henry was horrified, because as he said these words, the office door opened silently behind them and a squat, bulky figure entered the room.

‘I'll pretend I didn't hear that,' the figure said.

All heads shot around and they groaned collectively.

It was FB, the chief constable, his ever-increasing girth almost filling the doorway. He edged his way around the room and jerked his thumb at Henry, who rose from his seat and made way for the almighty to drop in his place.

‘Morning, guys,' FB said. They muttered a muted response. ‘Mr Flynn.' He nodded at Flynn who said, ‘Morning,' then glared at Henry. ‘I'm assuming Henry has told you why you're here,' FB said.

‘No' . . . ‘Nope' . . . ‘No idea,' the assembled officers said in unison.

FB turned to Henry and raised his overgrown eyebrows. ‘Hadn't quite got there, boss,' Henry said.

‘Better get on, time being of the essence.'

‘Thing is, the hunt for Felix Deakin has taken a dramatic turn. It's now gone beyond escape and murder. You might well be wondering what Mr Flynn is doing here. Even you, Jerry, because I know he hasn't told you everything. The fact is that Deakin believes that Mr Flynn, who you all know is a former colleague, and his one-time partner made off with a substantial amount of Deakin's drug money following a raid a few years back.'

‘A million, wasn't it?' Bill Robbins piped up.

‘That was the allegation,' Henry confirmed. ‘However,' he wagged his finger, ‘I don't intend to go into the whys and wherefores of the tale of the missing money, other than to say that Steve didn't steal a penny. The fact remains that Deakin thinks he did and he wants it back – probably to finance his life on the run.'

‘Which means he's still in the UK?' Bill asked.

‘Hopefully, but there's another twist.' Henry eyed Flynn. ‘Deakin has kidnapped Steve's fourteen-year-old son, Craig, and wants the money as ransom.'

‘Jesus,' Bill said.

‘Fuckin' hell, Steve,' said Jerry Tope.

‘Which is why we're here – even the chief, who I decided needed to be in on this. Steve's got maybe two days to get the money and then he'll hear from Deakin about the dropoff, etc. He's also stated that if the police are involved, he'll kill Craig, or if he doesn't get the money, he'll kill him. As he's a man on the run, we have to treat that threat seriously. He cannot find out about the police, or that Steve doesn't have access to that kind of money.'

‘So what are we going to do, Henry?' Bill Robbins asked.

‘I was coming to that.'

‘What happens if the Home Secretary refuses permission?'

‘He won't,' Henry said positively. ‘The chief can be very persuasive.'

‘But he won't be happy backdating the authorization, will he?'

‘He should only have to back-
time
it,' Henry said. ‘It should still be for today's date. It shouldn't be too difficult for someone who's claimed expenses for a house in Lancashire he only visited three times last year – expenses and a mortgage. And then he only visited the place with the rather attractive daughter of the Foreign Secretary, plus one of her extremely attractive horsy mates. And from what I hear it wasn't just tea and biscuits – it was spanking and wanking galore.' Henry sighed. ‘One of the benefits of having a cabinet minister living on your patch. You see and hear things about them, not all above board. A few minutes on a clock shouldn't make much difference.'

‘Well, when you look at it that way,' Flynn agreed.

Henry was driving a newly registered Transit van down the M65, east across the county. It bore the logo of a well-known satellite TV company, but the van didn't belong to them. It was the property of Lancashire Constabulary's Technical Support Unit, used with the secret permission of the company concerned. Henry had chosen it from half a dozen other vehicles, all bearing the insignia of national companies, kept in a small covered compound near Preston docks. They were used to provide transport and cover for Tech Support officers whose job it was to break into people's houses, flats, caravans or cars, and bug them without their knowledge. Overalls had also been provided, as well as ID tags hastily prepared by John Walker.

Walker was sitting next to Henry on the double passenger seat and next to him, by the door, was Steve Flynn. All three were in the same overalls.

Henry had been reluctant to have Flynn along, but he'd relented when Flynn signed a disclaimer concerning injuries and claims. It probably wasn't worth the paper it was written on, but it made Henry feel better.

They were en route to Barry Baron's house in the Rossendale Valley, which they planned to bug with listening and video devices. The first stage of Henry's masterplan.

Running parallel to this operation, back at HQ, was the task allocated to Jerry Tope. He had been given Flynn's unofficial file on Deakin and his job was to get everything from the official current Intel files on Deakin and start doing the work on them. Checking addresses, phone numbers, associates, enemies, trying to get something useful from it all. Henry wasn't sure what he was looking for. That was down to Jerry.

The next stage of the plan, should it come to it, was to wait for Deakin's contact call to Flynn about the money. Flynn would then claim he had traced the money, but would need a couple more days to get it together. Hopefully it would be the beginning of negotiations with Flynn for the swap – money for Craig. Henry had also arranged for the mobile phone companies to be on standby to triangulate Deakin's location.

While all this was going on, the chief would approach the Home Secretary to get the bugging authorization. He would also start making inquiries about getting a million pounds in cash together, should it all go as far as a transfer.

It was all very loose and unpredictable, but that was the way of kidnaps. Plus, Henry knew, if anything could go wrong, it would. He didn't share that thought with Flynn, but he expected the ex-cop had it at the back of his mind anyway.

‘How come you didn't pick up on Baron's role in Deakin's life when you were doing the background?' Henry asked Flynn. ‘The fact he was Deakin's right-hand man?'

‘Don't know . . . we knew he was always around, but obviously didn't put two and two together.'

Behind the van were two cars that had been seized and confiscated from criminals. One was a sporty Ford Focus driven by Bill Robbins, the other an old-fashioned Granada Scorpio, once the treasured possession of a drug dealer who had wept as it was loaded on to a flatback and taken from him. Rik Dean drove this. Both were pool cars now used by the cops.