Gregory's Game, page 9
The lantern was set on the floor beside a mattress. On the mattress were blankets and a white nightgown, long sleeved and oddly old fashioned, with a high neck.
‘Change your clothes,’ a voice said. ‘Put on the gown.’
Kat got to her feet. The voice was coming from somewhere above her head ‘Who the hell are you? Why have you brought us here?’
‘Just do as I say.’
‘Why the hell should I?’
She tried to analyse where the voice was coming from. It was soft, she thought, but male, female, she couldn’t tell. It sounded faintly distorted as though drifting in and out of focus.
‘Your daughter will wake up soon. She’ll be hungry. You want her to have food? She’ll be wet, uncomfortable. You don’t want that, do you, Katherine?’
No, she didn’t want that.
Still holding Desiree close, she circled the room, one hand on the walls, trying to guess how big a space it was. She had reached the back wall when the door opened and someone came through. Kat turned, instinctively. A camera flash blinded her and then the door was closed again.
‘Now get changed,’ the voice told her again. ‘And we’ll trade. Your obedience for food. I don’t want to be unreasonable and I don’t really want to be unpleasant. It will be so much better if you just do as you’re told.’
Kat stood, undecided. She was sore and cold, her wet jeans clinging unpleasantly.
She laid Desiree on the mattress and slid them off, realizing suddenly that her jacket was gone and she now wore only a t-shirt and a light cardigan. She took off the cardigan, slipped the nightgown on over her t-shirt and then kicked the jeans and sodden underwear across the room. She kept her socks. She had no shoes. Then she pulled one of the blankets around her shoulders and gathered the child close.
Looking up, she tried once more to see where the voice might be coming from. It was silent now, but it had seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere.
Kat had never experienced real, unfettered terror, but she did now. The black walls closing in on her, the tiny light – what if it went out? The thin mattress and the coarse blankets and the silence.
She found herself straining to hear. Longing for the voice to speak to her once more. If it spoke, it was at least evidence of someone else there. Someone she might be able to negotiate with. Something she might be able to fight.
Kat didn’t want to cry, but found she did anyway. Tears flowing fast and hot down bruised cheeks, finding the cuts and sores from being thrown around in the car and then the van.
She mustn’t give in, she told herself. We’ll get away. We’ll get out of here. Alive.
TWENTY-ONE
They sat around the table in the studio and drank tea. Bob was watchful; Annie thoughtful and cautious; Tess increasingly puzzled. Vinod focused on taking notes and she couldn’t guess what he was thinking.
‘What about Nathan?’ Annie had said. There’d been no surprise, no sense of shock that they were asking – which, in Tess’s experience, were the usual reactions. There was no ‘what happened to him’ question – which was the other, normal response. What is it with these people, Tess wondered. I’m in La La Land here.
‘You’re telling me you have no means of contacting your friend,’ Tess said, increasingly exasperated.
‘I’m telling you I can send him a message. I can’t tell you when he’ll pick it up. Nathan travels a lot. I just send the messages to a drop box and he responds when he’s ready. Nathan is a friend; I’m not his keeper or his carer.’
‘A drop box?’
‘It’s like a post office box,’ Bob said. ‘Only it’s online. It’s a kind of email.’
‘Why not just use ordinary email?’
Annie smiled. ‘Because a drop box is encrypted, secure. All ID is stripped from my email and from his response. It uses a combination of public and private keys. Most journalists use something of the sort. We’re all cautious about leaks these days.’
‘And is Nathan a journalist?’
Annie laughed. ‘No. I am, albeit one that works with pictures rather than words. Work has to be sent securely and quickly and from anywhere in the world. Sometimes I have to be careful. The habit is mine, rather than Nathan’s, I suppose.’
‘And if you contacted him now, told him we want to speak to him, how soon before he got in touch?’
Annie shrugged and Bob laughed.
‘It’s not funny,’ Tess said tetchily. ‘A child and her mother are missing and we’ve got every reason to believe that those holding them are dangerous. Violent.’
‘I imagine Nathan already knows that,’ Bob said. ‘Given the murder, the trashing of Ian Marsh’s house and the photograph.’
Tess sighed. She’d told them far too much, desperation and a feeling that she couldn’t get a proper handle on events pushing her into revealing more than she normally would. That and, she now realized, Annie’s gentle but persistent questions.
‘Look,’ she said, ‘I hope I don’t need to stress the confidentiality of all this?’
‘I can assure you,’ Annie said softly. ‘When the full story escapes into the media, it won’t be because of us.’
Vinod looked up from his notes. ‘And what makes you think—’
‘It’s too good a story,’ Annie said. ‘A brutal murder, a university professor, a pretty child. Either your superiors will hold a press conference and release most of what you’ve told us, or they’ll let it slide out into the world, detail by detail. You’ll decide that Nathan is the key to all of this and that the more eyes you have looking for him, suspicious of him, the better. So you’ll release a photograph of him; emphasize that, for the moment, he’s just wanted as a witness. Even suggest that he too might be in danger – which is probably true. Not that there’s anything you can do to change that.’
Annie sat back, her gaze fixed on Tess’s face. Disturbingly steady.
‘And where might we obtain a photograph of this mysterious Mr Crow?’ Vinod asked.
It won’t be from here, Tess thought.
To her surprise, Annie glanced at her husband. ‘The best one will probably be in the wedding album,’ she said. ‘Would you look?’
‘Sure.’ Bob left, taking his mug of tea with him.
Tess knew her expression betrayed her surprise.
‘How do you know Nathan Crow?’ Vinod asked.
Annie tilted her head on one side, surveying the sergeant with that same thoughtfulness. ‘We were teenagers,’ she said. ‘Young teens. I’d just lost my parents and Nathan’s were dead too. It was something in common. We became friends. For a while we had the same guardian. He’d been friend to both our fathers so when we were orphaned he took legal charge of the pair of us. You could say we did most of our growing up together.’
‘And this guardian. Might he know where Nathan’s got to?’
Annie sipped her tea. ‘I doubt it. He’s dead. But I’ll tell you why Nathan left in such a hurry. He wanted to be free to act; once you’d started with your questions, he’d have been at least delayed, probably have lost what little time advantage he had. I don’t have to tell you that their chances of survival diminish hour by hour.’
Tess almost laughed. This was just too much. ‘And what the hell makes you think that Nathan can do what we can’t?’ she said angrily.
Annie Raven leaned forward and, much to Tess’s surprise, she took her hand. ‘Because that’s what he’s been trained to do,’ she said. ‘Because you have to keep it clean, play by rules. Nathan doesn’t have to do any of those things. Neither do those men who have Ian Marsh’s wife and child. You can’t win against people like that unless you make the right play. Unless you are prepared to be as dirty as they are.’
There was a moment of shocked silence. Vinod coughed nervously, obviously thinking that Tess should take charge. Tess withdrew her hand.
‘You’re wrong,’ she said. ‘We’ll get them. We’ll get the wife and child back where they belong and if this friend of yours is in any way responsible, then he’ll be brought to book too.’
She sounded pompous, Tess thought, and Annie obviously thought so too. She laughed softly. ‘I wish you well,’ she said. ‘Truly, I do. But you’re playing blind.’
Her husband had returned with a photograph album which he laid down on the table. Annie flicked quickly through the pages and selected an image. She handed that back to her husband. ‘Bob will copy it,’ she said. ‘You can have the copy. Don’t worry, we’ve got top of the line equipment: the scan will be as good as the original, or as near as you won’t notice.’
‘We’d bring the picture back,’ Vinod objected.
Annie just looked at him. She closed the album and set it aside. It was very clear that she was impatient for them to go.
‘You realize I could charge you with obstruction,’ Tess said. Oh God, she was just sounding pompous again.
‘For doing what?’
‘I don’t believe you. I think you’ll be in touch with Nathan the moment we leave.’
That earned her a raised eyebrow and a considered look. ‘Do you want the photograph?’ Annie said. ‘Because I could insist you come back here with a warrant.’
‘That won’t be necessary,’ Vinod said. ‘Ms Raven, we’re grateful for your help, but you can understand we’re concerned. Two innocent people have been taken and—’
Annie Raven held up a hand and Vinod fell silent. ‘Sergeant Dattani, I know all about innocent people being punished for things others have done. Believe me. So does Nathan. But the only guilty parties here are whoever took the mother and child and whoever ordered it done. Can you think of one justifiable reason for doing that? Even to punish someone or to obtain information or to send a message? I think you’ll agree with me that nothing anyone had done could justify such an action, could excuse this threat to innocence, as you would term it? No, so this is not Nathan’s fault; this is not Nathan’s guilt, and neither, presumably, is it Ian Marsh’s. The only people responsible for this action are those that carried it out.’
Bob Taylor had returned with the picture. He set it down on the table and Annie examined it before handing it over. There were four people in the picture. Annie, looking amazing in a fitted red dress; Bob Taylor, his gaze fixed adoringly upon his wife, and two other men. ‘That’s Nathan,’ Annie said, indicating the younger of the two.
‘The other one’s my brother,’ Bob volunteered. ‘He was the best man.’
Annie was on her feet now and signalling it was time for them to leave.
‘We may need to speak to you again,’ Tess said.
Bob coughed nervously and then handed her a business card. ‘That’s my lawyer,’ he said. ‘He handles the business side of things for me. If you want to speak to us again, then please call him first and set up a meeting. I’m … I’m getting quite particular about who comes to my house these days.’
‘What the hell just happened?’ Tess stormed as they drove away. ‘Who the hell do they think they are?’ She slammed the heel of her hand into the steering wheel. The car jerked sideways.
‘Watch it,’ Vinod said calmly. ‘You’ll have us in the ditch.’
Tess glared at him. ‘You think I handled that badly.’
‘I think we both did. I think Annie Raven is used to catching people off balance. At least we know what this Nathan Crow looks like.’
‘That’s if she’s not spinning us a yarn. She volunteered her friend’s picture a bit quick.’
‘Crows and Ravens,’ Vinod said. ‘Is there a Magpie somewhere? A Jackdaw? They’ve got to be made-up names. I mean, who’d call themselves after a corvid?’
‘So, we do a background check on the whole damned lot of them. Annie Raven and her husband; Ian Marsh; this Nathan Crow.’
‘You want me to get Jaz on to that now? She and her team are still working their way through paperwork from the Palmer murder. Best they broaden their search now.’
Tess nodded. ‘Do that and see if you can grab them a couple of extra bodies to assist.’ Not that this is likely to stay my case, she thought. This is much too big, especially now.
She could hear Vin speaking on the phone, getting updates and then talking to DC Jaz Portman. When he got off the phone he confirmed her thoughts.
‘A Major Incident Team is being formed,’ he said. ‘There’ll be a briefing when we get back.’
Tess nodded, not sure whether she was disappointed or relieved. ‘Who’s heading it?’
‘No one knows yet. Superintendent Chase is organizing everything that end. Looks like we’ll get shunted sideways though.’ He sounded bitter.
‘There’ll be plenty to go around,’ Tess told him. A sense of deep foreboding gripped her. She remembered the crime scene, the sight of Anthony Palmer hanging from that beam, the monofilament eating its way into his flesh. She tried not to imagine the pain, but couldn’t help herself. Whoever had done that to Palmer now had a woman and a child.
TWENTY-TWO
Annie had done what she always did when she wanted to think: she had wandered out into the garden and stood beneath one of the scrubby old oaks which, though they were well past their sell-by date, neither she nor Bob could bear to take down. Bob watched her, sipping a new cup of coffee. The visit had shaken him up; the last couple of months had been peaceful and wonderful. Annie had seemed content, had been working part-time teaching a photography course and Bob had slowly resumed his painting. It was the memory of the episode preceding such peace that set Bob so much on edge. The man who had tried to kill him and the other, equally frightening in his own way, who had stopped him. Bob had glimpsed what had been Annie’s world and he didn’t like what he had seen.
He saw Annie start back towards the house and sat down at the big table in his studio to wait for her. Knowing whatever it was had been resolved, he worried as to how it had been resolved. Shrugging off the old coat she wore, she sat down opposite him.
‘He hasn’t been in touch to ask for my help and he hasn’t told me what’s going on,’ she said. ‘That means Nathan doesn’t want to be found, not even by me. He’s gone deep and for that he needs other help. I’ll send him a message about the visit, but that’s all I can do.’
She reached across the table and took his hand as she had Tess’s earlier. ‘I’m not about to get involved in this,’ she told Bob.
He lifted her hand and kissed the palm. ‘Of course you are,’ he said. ‘If he needs you. You’d never walk away from someone you love. I know that and I respect it. Nathan is family. He’s a brother to you. I wouldn’t dream of blackmailing you, of making you choose; you know that.’
Annie squeezed his hand. ‘And Nathan knows that too, about you.’ She sighed deeply and rubbed at her eyes with her free hand. ‘He’s gone after them, after the child mostly. He won’t rest until he finds her.’
‘You know most kidnap victims don’t survive, don’t you?’
‘I know the statistics, Bob. Death usually happens in the first hour. Sometimes, I think, that’s a good thing. But this is no ordinary abduction. They’ll keep the wife and kid alive. That way they keep all of the control. If Ian Marsh thinks his family is dead they’ll have no means of keeping the pressure on.’
‘You think this is about Professor Marsh, not Nathan?’
‘I don’t know,’ Annie admitted. ‘It could be either; could be both. Nathan specializes in upsetting the wrong people, but from what I know of Ian Marsh, he’s not been so far behind.’
‘You’ve not mentioned him before.’ Not that it meant anything. There were a lot of things Annie didn’t talk about.
‘I don’t know him. I’ve met him twice, but not in any, you know, work context. Nathan brought him to an exhibition – he brought his wife too, come to think of it. And I met him once when Nathan gave him a lift somewhere. I was in the car.’
‘But you know about him.’
‘I know he worked as a diplomatic aide – and you know as well as I do that can mean anything from him being the man who makes the coffee to the man who disposes of the bodies. He speaks several languages, but Nathan first met him when he needed an interpreter. I don’t remember what language. Nathan said he facilitated medical access on a couple of occasions, but we didn’t talk about him. He was part of Nathan’s life I had no involvement in. Nathan likes him, that’s all I’m really sure of. Apparently he got sick of the travelling and probably the getting shot at, so he shifted into academia. That must have been a decade ago. Nathan was only in his early twenties when they met.’
‘And so the idea that someone might take his wife and child because of something he did?’
She shook her head. ‘It’s possible, of course. I think most of what he did was legit and transparent. According to Nathan, he’s got a conscience, has Professor Marsh – or at least, he did have.’
‘What do you mean?’
Annie shook her head and for a moment Bob thought she would refuse to answer. She had always tried to keep him out of what he thought of as her other life. He saw her considering what she should tell him. Finally she said, ‘He did a lot of work with injured kids; worked all over the Middle East trying to get medical programmes off the ground, negotiating and coercing when he had to. Truth is, Bob, I don’t know, but maybe he did something, got himself mixed up in something that meant certain pressures could be applied.’
‘And you think someone now wants to make him pay?’
‘I think it’s possible. But I don’t think he’s been in any position to tread on toes for a very long time. Whoever is doing this, they knew they’d also draw Nathan in. I guess that’s at the very least a bonus.’
Bob squeezed her hand. ‘Annie, he’s survived worse, I’m sure. He’ll come through.’
She smiled. ‘I know. Bob, I wish this could all just go away, you do know that, don’t you?’
He kissed her hand again. ‘We play what we’re dealt,’ he said softly, ‘and if the best we can come up with is a pair of twos, then we just have to bluff that bit better. I love you, Annie. Better or worse, remember?’
