Taken (24 page)

Back in his office, Vaughn was determined not to think about Casey and was trying to convince himself he was interested in reading the story in the paper about more government cuts. He lit another cigarette and saw on one of the monitors that Freddie had arrived at the house gates.

He’d had security cameras fitted over a year ago and now he was able to see all around the grounds and the inside of the house with a flick of a button. Even now, he couldn’t be too careful; the world he’d lived in had a long memory and he was quite certain there were a lot of people who’d be happy to put a bullet in his head at any given time.

‘Freddie, can I get you a drink, fella?’

‘I’ll have a Bourbon on the rocks.’

‘Talk, I’m listening.’

‘Maybe you’ll need to have a drink first; I know I certainly do.’

Vaughn smiled at Freddie; he’d been around as long as he had. Freddie had never been a face or worked a turf but he’d been vital to his and a lot of other people’s businesses. He was a paper man; he found out facts, and whether it was information on clients, punters, coppers or MPs, Freddie constantly came up with the goods. Over the years he’d helped him out on lots of matters and all the info had always been spot on.

Vaughn knew Freddie liked a good quality Bourbon, so he let him drink it in peace and waited for him to talk.

‘The man Casey was with at the station is called Josh Edwards; he’s Old Bill. Detective Sergeant Edwards; works in Vice up in Birmingham and he’s married to Casey, but apparently they’re getting a divorce.’

Vaughn’s mind was racing: fuck! She’d been telling the truth about the divorce, but for some reason it still felt like a betrayal. It surprised him to hear she’d been married to the Old Bill; she seemed the least likely candidate to be the wife of one of the boys in blue.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck. How could I’ve been so stupid?’

Vaughn shouted the last part and Freddie, unconcerned at the outburst, helped himself to another large Bourbon, though this time without the rocks and a much more generous glassful than he’d been originally served.

Vaughn gathered himself together.

‘But why did she end up here?’

‘Well, she walked out on Josh and the marriage about eighteen months ago; seems she was always on the tipping point, one of life’s lost souls, as they say, but she had to come down here because she needed to find her child.’

Vaughn sat down on the green leather Chesterfield
in shock. It was if someone had given him a punch in his stomach.

‘Jesus.’

‘Oh no, I haven’t finished; it gets better. Take a look at this.’

Freddie, who always enjoyed the melodrama of a story, handed over a photograph of Emmie and then a photo of Casey. Vaughn looked up at Freddie, not getting the connection.

‘I don’t understand.’

‘No? Have another look.’

Vaughn stared down at the photos and then the penny started to drop. It couldn’t be. Could it? He always knew Emmie was adopted; everyone did except for Emmie herself, which he always thought was the wrong call, but no one dared mention it because Alfie had warned them all years ago what would happen to them if they did, and nobody wanted to end up brown bread at the bottom of the Thames.

Looking at the photos it struck Vaughn why Casey had always looked so familiar. It was as if he’d been looking at Emmie: they had the same eyes; the same beautiful haunting eyes.

Vaughn continued to sit in his office long after Freddie had left him. Casey was trouble and his brain was telling him to stay well away. She’d been right when she’d said it was complicated, but Freddie had told him that as far as he knew she was still in the dark about Emmie; he hoped it would stay that way, especially as it involved Alfie. Vaughn knew the last thing Alfie would want would be for someone to rain down some shit on his little family.

Her drinking seemed to be out of control and she screamed red lights and red flags, but every part of her being had got to him, and he didn’t want to let her go. She’d lied, or at the very least she hadn’t told the truth, and he detested dishonesty; but then what did he expect? He hadn’t exactly told her the truth about his life, and did he really think she’d disclose her past to him just like that, and just because he’d wanted her to?

Taking a deep breath and picking up the phone, Vaughn dialled Casey’s number – but it went straight to voicemail. He didn’t bother leaving a message and instead dialled a different one.

‘Alf, it’s Vaughn. I’m looking for Cass and I was wondering if she’s been in the club?’

‘No, I haven’t seen her in here, but it’s probably just as well.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Oh sorry, didn’t I say? She stayed over at my flat last night. Sorry Vaughnie, I thought you two were well over. I would never have gone there if I’d known: you know me, I don’t sniff my mates’ women, but you saw her; she was handing it out on a plate – and well, I was feeling a bit hungry. Good time was had by all.’

Vaughn gripped his mobile phone and couldn’t say anything; he felt his chest going tight and he knew Alfie was enjoying every second of the phone call.

‘Vaughn? You still there?’

Vaughn could hear the tightness in his voice as he answered.

‘Oh I’m still here alright. Live and kicking, Alf, live and fucking kicking. I better be off; things to do, but I’m glad to hear you had a good time.’

‘The best, Vaughnie, the best.’

Alfie felt deflated. He thought he’d feel smug telling Vaughn about the night he’d spent with Casey, albeit an exaggerated version. He’d felt so clever telling Casey it was best they didn’t mention anything, clearing the way for him to tell Vaughn what he liked.

By giving Vaughn his version of events first, Alfie was sure if Casey
did
decide to say anything, knowing his friend as he did, Vaughn’s male pride and ego wouldn’t let him believe her – and if she didn’t say anything, he would just presume she was a devious cheating bitch. Either way, Alfie was certain Casey’s time with Vaughn was over; he would get rid of her.

Alfie hadn’t expected to feel as he did: after all he’d done what he’d set out to do. Granted he hadn’t got a fuck out of it, but he’d assumed he’d feel happy. Instead all it’d done was left him feeling sorry for himself.

He’d been friends with Vaughn the moment Connor had introduced them, and his friend had never wronged him in all that time. He loved Vaughn as he’d loved his brother, but he’d never admit that to anyone.

Vaughn always remembered his and Janine’s anniversary, and sent luxurious presents to Emmie even when there wasn’t a special occasion to celebrate. He’d always watched his back when there were people ready to stab him in it, and in the world he lived in, having a wing man he could trust was a rare thing.

Alfie knew he didn’t really have a right to be annoyed with Vaughn for not lending him the money, he’d always had his principles; but he was just fucked off he’d got himself into a mess. There was no reason why anyone should get him out of a situation he’d been warned about.

Opening up a packet of cheese and onion crisps, Alfie’s thoughts moved to Emmie. He wanted to talk to her, because he’d been thinking hard and what he’d thought about needed answers. He’d gone over the visit from Scottish Charlie in his mind and the more he thought, the more unlikely it was that Charlie had taken the missing packages; impossible in fact. Janine had sworn it wasn’t her and after the kicking she’d received, which he still shuddered to think about, he was sure she was telling the truth. So it only left one person: Emmie.

‘Well where the fuck is she?’ Alfie spoke harshly and glared at Janine for a moment before averting his eyes. Her face was cut and swollen from his actions the day before and he felt thoroughly ashamed of himself; not that he’d admit it for one moment, or ever say sorry: it would not only give Janine the upper hand but also the idea she could take the piss.

He took another quick look at her and saw her lip was double its normal size and she was hunched over on the chair, holding her stomach.

‘I dunno where she is, Alf. She said she was going to go and see Maria but it’s a good bloody job she ain’t here. It’d kill her to see me like this.’

Alfie turned away; he could tell Janine was laying it on thick to get a rise from him but he wasn’t going to fall for it. He stayed silent and let her talk.

‘Perhaps she did come in, Alf, and saw you doing this to me. Have you thought of that?’

He hadn’t, and the panic rose in his throat. He knew when he’d seen his own father beat up on his mother, how it’d left him feeling, and he never wanted Emmie to feel like that or look at him the way he’d looked at his own father.

He’d always scarpered the moment trouble had started at home and never stayed around long enough to watch the final knockout. He’d always gone to stay with mates or slept rough; anything was better than seeing his mother being knocked around senseless, screaming for help, and being powerless to do anything about it.

Life was different today; it wasn’t safe for young kids to be mooching round on the streets, especially for a girl.

‘We need to call her friends.’

‘Some bleedin’ chance. I can’t do anything like this, can I Alf?’

That was the last straw for Alfie. Janine was taking the piss now and it wasn’t any longer just about him; it was about his daughter and her whereabouts, and nobody was going to put Emmie’s safety in jeopardy. Leaping angrily towards his wife, Alfie grabbed hold of her face hard – but not hard enough to hurt her again.

‘Listen Jan, if it makes you feel better, I am sorry for what I did to you; so fucking sorry you wouldn’t believe. I’m down on me fucking knees I’m that sorry, Jan, but do not take the fucking piss out of me. Emmie should be home by now and she’s not and I need you to get your finger out of your saggy arse and help me track her down. Do you understand me?’

Janine Jennings’s face was a few inches away from her husband’s and she could smell the crisps he’d eaten. She’d never seen him so passionate and sincere about anything in his life and she’d certainly never seen the fear which was now in his eyes, nor the tears spilling down his face.

‘Okay Alf. I’ll help you. I’ll see if I can contact any of her friends.’

Midnight came and went and Oscar hadn’t heard from Alfie, but it didn’t worry him: he was satisfied with what he had. The girls were safely with Nesha and he was going to give Jason the nod for the party. It’d worked out better than he could’ve ever imagined; every single penny earned from the girls from now on was going directly in his pocket. The alarm clock had rung on Alfie; he’d shot himself in the fucking foot not coming up with the goods in time because everyone in their line of business knew there was always a comeuppance.

Oscar knew Alfie fucking up had worked out better for him. He was now the sole owner of the women, but better still, he’d hit the jackpot and he was going to enjoy playing finders keepers. It’d show Alfie and everyone else that trying to take advantage of his good nature was a very bad move.

Making two cups of cocoa in the spotless stainless steel kitchen, Oscar put extra sugar in the red mug and took it through to his new house guest.

‘Drink this, it’ll make you feel better; but it’s hot, so don’t burn your tongue.’

Emmie Jennings trembled. Even though the heating was on and she’d a thick duvet wrapped around her shoulders she felt as if her body was made of ice. Her head was all over the place and she couldn’t quite work out what had happened in Jake’s flat.

When she’d first got the idea of phoning Oscar, she’d had to get his number out of her dad’s phone. She’d worked out the PIN lock on it which hadn’t been hard to do as he’d used her date of birth. She’d nearly chickened out calling, but then she’d seen her dad moping around, something he only did when he was worried, and she knew there was no choice but to call Oscar.

Emmie hadn’t known how Oscar would react to her call but he’d been kind and listened to what had gone on with her and Jake and the letters she’d found. She’d confessed about the packages, telling him how it’d been all her fault and not her dad’s. She’d expected him to explode but he’d told her not to worry and to meet him behind Tottenham Court Road.

When they’d met, he’d taken her to Starbucks
and he’d nodded sympathetically and offered her tissues when she’d cried. He hadn’t said much at first but then he’d come up with a plan; a plan which had scared her, but Oscar had told her it was the only way to get her dad out of the trouble he was in and get back the packages she’d given Jake.

It’d only taken her a few minutes to decide. She’d got her dad into the mess and now she needed to be prepared to do anything to help get him out of it. She was terrified but it was the right thing to do; the
only
thing to do.

Oscar had asked her lots of questions and then somehow she’d ended up telling him about the guns her dad kept hidden away in the house. Oscar had told her to take one of the guns she didn’t think her father would miss and then he’d arranged to meet her at Jake’s flat.

‘Emmie, are you sure you can do this?’

She’d nodded, but her heart was racing and she’d felt dizzy and had to sit down.

‘You can back out, Em, but then what’s your dad going to do eh? You wouldn’t want anything nasty to happen to him would you? Are you sure Jake’s expecting you?’

‘Yes, I said I was missing him and had changed my mind about bringing him another package.’

‘And he definitely bought your story? We don’t want any fuckups do we?’

‘Yeah, he believed me alright.’

Emmie had felt terrified, especially when she’d put her hand in her pocket and felt the small steel gun.

‘Billy will meet you there, and I’ll be right behind you.’

But Billy hadn’t been there and neither had Oscar. The door of Jake’s flat was slightly ajar and she’d walked in without even thinking of closing it behind her, with the gun tightly gripped in her hand. She hadn’t wanted to think about what she was doing because if she had, she knew she would’ve backed out; so she kept Jake out of her mind and her dad in it. When she’d gone into the lounge, she’d frozen in fear and started to back away. Jake was already lying there, with his eyes wide open.