For the Sake of the Children

By

Alex Highcliffe

© 2015 Alex Highcliffe

All rights reserved

For G xx

The characters and events in this book are entirely fictional and any resemblance to real life people or events is purely coincidental.

The local authority and other agencies in Sheffield do fantastic work every day to protect the city’s children. In so far as this book suggests otherwise, it is entirely a work of fiction.

Chloe Webster Thrillers:

1 For the Sake of the Children

2 Family Divisions

1

Time is a great healer. Or so the saying goes. Loss, grief, sorrow, hurt; they ease as time goes by, fade to a distant memory. Maybe the same thing happens to fear. Scared for so long now, he’d become immune to it, resistant. It was still there of course, lurking in the depths of his mind, but it was normal now, ordinary, accepted. If anything, it had been replaced by regret.

If he could go back and do things differently he would, that was for sure, but then who wouldn’t? The first contact, the offer, the threats, the promises, he didn’t know how to handle them, didn’t even see them coming. Just a young guy, starting out on a new career, he was finding his way in the world. Had he been naïve? Yes, probably. Greedy? Maybe. Stupid? Certainly. But it was all so mixed up and complicated. He was swallowed up in it all before he knew what to do, before he could work it out, before he could bring it to an end. Bad disguised itself as good and he was fooled by it, didn’t know who he could trust. He’d fallen deeper and deeper into the abyss with no way of clawing his way out.

But whatever he’d done, he had limits. There was a line beyond which he refused to go, a boundary he simply wouldn’t cross. Some things were forbidden and his sense of conscience had undoubtedly caused him to end up in this place.

Kate appeared before him with her smile, her sense of humour, her energy and her warmth. They’d been together the whole time and although he’d managed to keep her out of it, she’d certainly suffered. His mood swings, the arguments, the mysterious behaviour and the lies all took their toll on her. She was aware that something was wrong, but he made sure she knew nothing that could drag her in with him. If there was one thing in his life that had to be kept honest and pure and true, it was Kate. He hated that he would never see her again.

And what of his parents? What would they think? That he’d run away, disappeared without even a goodbye? His father would get over it in time, but his mother? It would hit her hard. Would she ever recover from it? A lump appeared in his throat and try as he did to swallow it, he was incapable. Tears welled in his eyes and one made a slow mournful trail down his cheek before jumping to the floor.

He scanned the room, empty but for the remnants of old wall-mounted machinery and a scattering of wooden crates and boxes, leftovers of a busy workplace from yesteryear. The dull grey of the concrete walls forced his attention to the only thing of any interest - the large, rust-framed window set into the wall some way in front of him. The filth on the shattered glass could not mask the orange sun as it made its final bow behind the broken industrial landscape. For a moment he thought of the glorious Peak District in the distance beyond, and the time that he and Kate had spent enjoying its wonders. It was the contrast of Sheffield at its most splendid and its worst; a former industrial powerhouse set on the edge of one of nature’s finest creations.

The stillness brought him back to the room. It was quiet, silent in fact. Not a hint of traffic, or machinery, or even of life itself. How different this area must have been in its heyday, as people and their inventions worked noisily in tandem, manufacturing for the world. He looked down at his feet, at the small wooden crate on which he stood and shuffled awkwardly as his legs began to complain of the discomfort. He’d been standing there for several hours already. He wished he could take a step to relieve the aches, but knew any movement would be his last. A relentless itch had nestled itself somewhere near his shoulder and refused to leave him in peace. He wished he could reach it but the binding on his hands kept them firmly behind his back.

He wished for many things whilst he stood there through those desperate hours, but most of all he wished he could loosen the rope hanging from the ceiling that was knotted tightly around his neck.

A second tear traced a path down his face.

2

Chloe Webster looked at the Chloe Webster staring back at her from within the mirror. Was that really her? A smart, dark blue suit, white blouse, perfect makeup and her thick dark hair tied back in a way that said confident professional. It certainly didn’t look like the Chloe Webster she was used to seeing in the reflection on her bedroom wall. Not that she spent much time in front of the mirror. She had never been one for face paint or formal clothes. But now she looked professional and in control. Elegant even, and that was definitely not a word that anyone had ever used to describe Chloe Webster. She was actually rather clumsy by nature, due to her dyspraxia. If anyone asked, she explained that it was a kind of physical dyslexia, and that usually avoided the need to go into great detail. It wasn’t generally noticeable, but it had made her awful at sport when she was at school, and it surfaced from time to time to remind her of its presence, usually on the most important occasions. A trip here, a stumble there; she could never be confident that she was entirely in control of her own movements.

She was naturally attractive and her friendly, engaging manner meant she had always been popular; one of those lucky people who appeared as if they didn’t have to try. The truth was that she did have to try, as she was somewhat shy by nature, but she recognised it was important to make an effort, especially where people were concerned. And today was certainly a day that would require effort.

‘Morning love,’ grunted her father as she hurried into the kitchen. His bulk filled the wooden chair, his greying hair slightly ruffled after a troubled night’s sleep. He put his newspaper down and smiled warmly at his daughter. ‘You ready for today?’

‘I think so. Just wish the butterflies in my stomach would settle down, but you know me, always up for a challenge.’

He laughed. ‘Feeling a bit nervous, eh? Don’t worry, you’ll knock ‘em dead once you find your feet. You always do.’

Chloe filled a bowl with cornflakes and splashed milk over the top. Having poured herself a cup of tea from the pot she joined her father at the round pine table.

‘Yeah I know. Just first day nerves I guess. How is it today?’

‘Oh the usual.’ Her father rubbed his thigh and put on a fake grimace. ‘I’ll manage.’

‘If it’s painful you should go back to the doctor. You don’t have to suffer with it you know.’

‘I know, I know. I’ll give her a call later.’ He took a large mouthful of tea, then looked long and hard at his beautiful daughter as she ate her cornflakes. ‘Your mum would be proud you know. She always said you were a bright one. If only she could see you now.’ He immediately cleared his throat in an attempt to cover up the fact that his voice had broken as he spoke.

‘She is proud, dad. She’ll be with me today. And I’ll be thinking about her.’ She got up, walked round to her father and, crouching onto her knees, rested her head on his shoulder. ‘She’s with me every day. I can feel her presence.’ She’d seen the glint of a tear in her father’s eyes but knew him well enough to know that it was better to pretend that she hadn’t noticed. The first and only time she’d seen her father really cry was back when her mother died of cancer fifteen years ago. Chloe was only nine years old at the time, but she remembered that day like it was yesterday. Her father had taken many years to come to terms with his loss, with their loss, but he had come to terms with it, and moments like this were rare now.

‘Come on dad, let’s get cleared up. I’ve got a train to catch.’

3

Of course, no one did loosen the rope. It maintained its relentless grip through the dark, lonely hours of the night, its victim unable to move. His legs felt as if they would give way at any time, and he was beginning to think they’d left him here to die. He’d come close to losing his balance a couple of times as sleep had tried its best to overcome him, but he was still alive as the morning light filled the window in front of him.

His thoughts were interrupted by the rattling of keys and the metal on metal screech of an industrial folding door being pulled back reluctantly along its rusty track. Three men strolled into the room as if they were on a Sunday morning walk to church.

‘So this is him is it?’ The owner of the voice was the sort of person that would be described as a big man. Not overly tall, not overly muscular and not overly fat, but a big man all the same. The obvious quality of his suit, the shine of his shoes, and the way he carried himself left no doubt that he was important, that he commanded respect. He certainly had an imposing presence which instantly created an uneasy atmosphere in the room.

‘Yes Mr Drabble, he’s been here all night. Surprised he’s made it through to be honest.’ It was a strangely high pitched voice to come from such a large frame. Notably scruffy in appearance, this guy was surely what was known as a henchman. The third man, tall and slim and dressed smartly but casually, stood silently by the window, watching.

‘Well you’re fucking lucky he did make it through aren’t you?’ Mr Scruffy started at the sheer anger and power that erupted with those words. He must have experienced it before but he was obviously shaken by it. Mr Slim remained seemingly unaffected in the shadows. Drabble took a breath and looked at the man on the box. ‘I told you I needed to ask him some questions. Obviously, I need him alive for that.’

It seemed surreal, standing there looking down on these people. They were like characters from a gangster film. He felt so weak and yet his thumping heart gave him the feeling that it was about to break through his chest. He knew this was it. They’d used Drabble’s name after all. Not a name he’d heard over the last few months or so, but probably not the kind of man who wants people to know his name. He hadn’t batted an eyelid when the scruffy bloke had used it. That could only mean one thing.

‘So how much have you told the police lad?’ Drabble’s question was directed at him. ‘Just tell me what you told them and I’ll make it easy for you.’

He tried to speak but his throat clammed up in a desert-like dryness. He attempted to swallow but nothing happened.

‘Get him some water,’ ordered Drabble. Mr Scruffy immediately produced a bottle, pushed it into his mouth and tipped it upwards. The liquid poured out far too quickly and caused him to choke. Turning his head away he spat it onto the floor to allow himself to breathe. The water he did manage to swallow tasted like the finest wine.

‘I’ve never been to the police.’ His croaking voice was audible, but only just.

‘Don’t fucking lie to me, son.’

‘I’m not lying. I haven’t said anything.’

‘You fucked up big time.’

‘It wasn’t part of the deal.’ He coughed again as a dribble of water tried to find its way down his airway.

‘The deal was that you did what we said and in return we paid you well and we let you live.’

‘The deal was always about money, nothing else. That last one, that was crossing the line.’

‘We draw the fucking lines, not you. You just do as you’re told.’

‘I’m not going there. I’m not doing it.’

Drabble sighed. ‘You really don’t get this do you? We set the rules. We tell you what to do. You just do as you’re told.’

He’d had enough of this. He had no answers and he knew that whatever he said he was dead. He was tired, and weak, and he had nothing left to hold on to. He looked into Drabble’s soulless eyes and managed to muster the faintest of smiles.

‘Fuck you.’

Drabble stared back, completely unaffected by the words. He admired the lad’s spirit, but he was no use to him now; he was out of control. And control was what kept his world together. Someone who wasn’t under his control was dangerous, a risk.

He nodded to Mr Scruffy, who ran over and kicked the small wooden crate like a football, sending it crashing across the dusty floor. The man in the noose swung elegantly by the neck for a moment, and then began to thrash around violently; the only sound was the creaking of the rope.

It took several minutes of unimaginable suffering before the darkness finally brought him peace.

4

Chloe headed out into the grey February mist, pulling the collar of her thick coat closer. She scolded herself as she realised she’d forgotten her scarf, but there was no time to go back for it now. She hurried up the hill towards the station, the usually magnificent views of surrounding countryside hidden behind the greyness of the fog. Many of the old cottages in Bradmill looked very welcoming with the early morning glow of lights showing in windows, and the smoke from log fires rising gently from their chimneys. Several other people were making their way to the old station, their breath forming visible clouds in front of them, no doubt also heading for the seven-thirty train that was due in a few minutes. Chloe knew it would get her into Sheffield before eight, leaving plenty of time to make it to her new job well before nine. It was important to impress on her first day.

The narrow platform was particularly busy this morning and she took her place amongst the crowd. She thought about the day ahead, hardly believing that it had arrived. Her first day as a lawyer. After four years at university and two years of training, at last she could put the studying behind her and focus on her career. She’d loved it at the small, friendly firm which had trained her so well over the last couple of years. Unfortunately, as was the case with many smaller law firms these days, they simply could not afford to keep her on now that she was qualified. Economic conditions and changes to the way legally aided cases were funded had resulted in her old firm downsizing and she was one of the casualties of that process. Anderson, Gormley and Drake was her new employer, and to be honest, she’d felt comfortable there from the moment she’d first stepped inside the offices. In actual fact, she’d only spent a few hours there as part of the interview process for the job, but the feel of the place and the warmth of the people she met had sold it to her there and then. So when the offer came through, she accepted without hesitation, despite having one or two offers from what other people might call better firms. And here she was, on day one as a qualified solicitor. She was nervous and excited and scared and happy all at the same time.

She heard the train long before it appeared out of the mist, headlights glowing as it grated its way along the old line. As it pulled up she could see that it was already busy, and queues formed instantly at every door as people tried to ensure they could snatch one of the few remaining seats. Not being naturally pushy, Chloe ended up at the back of one of those queues and eventually she was left standing in the centre aisle of the carriage. It had a typical interior with rows of double seats, and a few tables in the middle part of the carriage surrounded by four seats. She felt the tables were a bit of a luxury in a carriage where dozens of people had no option but to stand, but she didn’t mind - the journey was only fifteen minutes or so. She looked down the train. Most people were dressed in suits or uniforms under thick warm coats. Winter mornings could be harsh out here in the country and this morning was no exception. If it had any, the train’s heating wasn’t doing much of a job. As it departed, the draft from the windows only made it colder still.

Before long the train pulled up at the only station between Bradmill and Sheffield. Another crowd attempted to force their way into the already over-full carriage. People began shuffling down the aisle, causing those already standing to move further down. Chloe wondered if it was this busy every day at this time and decided to catch an earlier train if it was. Her mind was just beginning to think about the day ahead again when the train started with a jolt. Whether it was this, or whether someone was pushing, Chloe never knew. Before she had time to react the man in front of her fell backwards and toppled into her. His weight knocked her into the edge of one of the tables. Her natural reaction was to put her hand down onto the table top to stop herself from falling into the people sat around it. Having brought herself under control, she stood upright with a sigh of relief.

‘What the hell are you doing girl?’

The owner of the punitive voice was a plump, greying man in what looked to be an expensive coat. It took a few moments for Chloe to notice the coffee. A paper cup lay on its side on the table top and the contents had pooled across the surface and onto the lap of the man in the coat. He was now glaring at her as if awaiting a response from a child, his cheeks flushed red, either with anger or embarrassment.

‘Oh, did I do that? I’m really sorry,’ offered Chloe, aware that people were staring. ‘Here, I think I have a tissue somewhere.’

She started to fish into her handbag, glad to have somewhere to look other than at the man who was still glowering at her. Of course, she didn’t have a tissue. The one time that she actually needed one she’d forgotten to bring any. After what seemed like an age spent rummaging through the sparse contents of her bag, she stopped searching and shook her head. The man was still looking at her expectantly, but when he realised nothing was coming, he simply turned and looked out of the window. Chloe felt sorry then, sorry that she had ruined his journey to work. She turned her back and looked out the other side of the carriage, wishing the train was already at Sheffield, and trying hard to avoid the eyes that continued to stare at her from all around the carriage.

5

‘Is he dead?’ demanded Drabble.

Mr Scruffy looked at the man swinging gently by the neck on the end of the rope, and then prodded him in the ribs with his finger. No reaction.

‘Looks like it.’

‘Well is he or isn’t he?’

Mr Slim stepped forward and without a word placed his fingers on the inside of the man’s wrist. Nothing. He looked at Drabble and nodded.

‘Right. I’ll leave it up to you two to get rid of the body. I don’t want to know what you do with him, just make sure no one ever finds him.’

‘Yes, sir,’ uttered Mr Scruffy.

Mr Slim pulled out a knife and cut the rope, stepping back as the body fell to the ground. Mr Scruffy pulled over a large wooden crate from the corner of the room and together they bundled the body inside.

‘Good,’ said Drabble. He looked at Mr Scruffy. ‘Now you take that down to the car while we have a chat in here.’

‘What, on my own?’

‘You’ll manage.’

‘But…’

‘Just clear off, for fuck’s sake Mickey.’

Mickey dragged the box over to the door and out of the room, breathing heavily as he did so and muttering inaudibly. He hated working for Drabble, but he had no choice. Trying to leave the gang now would be suicide. In any case, it was all he’d ever known. Drabble had been friends with his mother when they were both younger, and when she died a few years ago, Drabble had taken him under his wing. But he never looked upon Drabble as a father figure; all he received was orders and irritation. All he wanted was a little respect from the big man. Was that really too much to ask?

Drabble waited until he could hear the box thumping down the stairs one step at a time. He yanked the metal shutter back across the doorway and turned to Mr Slim.

‘This is all very messy, Jez. I mean really messy. What a complete balls-up.’

‘I know, boss.’

‘I thought we had him under control. I thought he was on our side. He was doing okay wasn’t he?’

‘He was. Did as he was told and never really grumbled about it. Always seemed happy enough to take the money too. I guess we pushed him too far with that last job.’

‘We’re going to need a replacement, and quickly. I’ve got big plans for us.’

Jez nodded. Drabble looked out across the Sheffield skyline, thinking.

‘It has to be another lawyer.’

‘Okay, boss. Same firm?’

‘It’ll have to be. I’m not starting again with all this. We’ve got contacts there, good ones. I haven’t got time to mess around with another firm.’

‘Leave it to me, boss. Another junior lawyer I assume?’

‘Yeah, but this time make it a girl.’ Drabble smiled to himself. ‘That’s bound to be less trouble in the long run. If we’re expanding into new areas we need someone we can control. That idiot we’ve just lost didn’t like it. We need someone who will co-operate. Make it clear to her from the start that we don’t take no for an answer. We need to come down harder this time. We need total control.’

Jez smiled. He knew better than to ask any more questions.

‘Leave it with me boss.’

6

He sat up in bed, waiting for the call at eight o’clock. Time was very important to him. So much so that people called him the Timer. At least, people who worked with him did, people who knew him in his professional capacity. It also helped him to keep his work separate from his family, so that no one he worked for knew his real identity. The Timer – it was a name which reflected his reliability, efficiency and accuracy. He had a reputation which had taken years to build up and it meant that he was well paid for any work that came his way.

He looked over at his wife beside him as she began to stir. A lock of blonde hair fell across her large eyes and she instinctively brushed it away. She was so beautiful first thing in the morning. She was everything to him, together with his daughters of course.

‘Hi.’ He smiled down at her.

‘Hello.’

‘I’m expecting a call in a minute. It won’t take long, but I could do with a bit of privacy.’

‘Okay love. I’ll go and get the kids moving.’

She kissed him and in one movement she was out of bed, wrapped up in a thick dressing gown and out of the bedroom door, shouting orders to their two young daughters.

‘Come on you two, time to get ready for school.’

He smiled and looked at the clock. The red digits displayed 07:58. He picked his phone up from the bedside cabinet and checked for messages. None. Good, he hated last minute adjustments; he liked to have everything happen just as it was planned. He got up out of bed and closed the bedroom door. 07:59. He quickly pulled on some jeans and a sweat top and looked out the window. The view of the surrounding hills above the houses opposite was obscured this morning by a thick fog. It looked cold and grey out there, a fine drizzle ensuring the whole scene was damp and miserable. 08:01. Damn, the call was late. Why couldn’t people do what they promised to do when they promised to do it? His irritation was building with every passing second. 08:02. His phone finally hummed a silent ringtone.

‘Yes,’ he answered, not trying to hide his annoyance.

‘It’s me,’ came the familiar voice. ‘It happened last night. The truck’s heading east now from Liverpool docks towards Manchester. It’ll be coming over the Pennines to Sheffield after that. You should be able to catch it up there somewhere around ten this morning. Here, I’ll give you the plate…’

He memorised the registration plate and ended the call without saying a word.

‘I’ve got to go out today,’ he said to his wife as he appeared downstairs. ‘I shouldn’t be too late. I thought we might take the girls to that new burger place on the high street tonight.’

‘Yes please daddy,’ they both erupted at the same time and then burst into fits of laughter as he pulled them into his grasp and dug his fingers gently into their ribs; they’d both always been incredibly ticklish. They were also his pride and joy. More than that, they were his life.

‘You be good today Daisy. And look after Molly at school. You both help mummy okay?’

Before long he was out of the house and on his way. He removed the battery from his cheap mobile phone and dropped them both down a drain as he headed towards the local shopping centre.

7

Chloe stood in Sheffield city centre and looked up at the offices of Anderson, Gormley and Drake. It was an impressive and imposing building, probably Edwardian and much larger than her previous firm.

There must be room enough inside for a couple of hundred people at least, she thought, which did little to settle her nerves. She stood across the street, watching people heading into the building to begin their day’s work, wondering how many of them she would get to know; future colleagues and acquaintances, perhaps even friends.

The cold began to wrap its prickly arms around her and so she took a deep breath and hurried over to the entrance. She’d already noticed that it was a revolving door.

The challenges are coming thick and fast this morning.

Revolving doors were awkward, especially for someone who doesn’t always have full confidence in or control of her own body. How hard does one push? How many people should try to get into one compartment? She decided to use the standard door to the left of the main revolving door to avoid potential embarrassment. She walked confidently towards it and put her hand out to push, in accordance with the instruction printed clearly on the glass. It was locked, causing her to stop in her tracks and back pedal a step or two.

Damn. Why do they always lock these doors?

Already feeling a little embarrassed she turned to the revolving door just as a young man came running towards it. His timing was impeccable as the slow moving door swung round at just the right point for him to enter a compartment. As Chloe looked at the door waiting for it to turn to the next section, he flashed her a wide smile.

‘Good morning,’ he said in the friendliest manner she’d experienced since leaving home. She was instantly grateful for the interaction, but somehow mistook it for an invitation to step into the compartment with him. It all happened so fast but as soon as she stepped forward it became apparent that it was a mistake; the space inside was not as large as it had seemed when looking in from outside. It must be something to do with the shape of it. She was embarrassingly close to him, almost pressed up against the back of his coat as the door continued its progress round and into the building.

‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ said Chloe, horrified by what was happening.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ replied the young man, though he looked around awkwardly as the pair arrived in the reception area of the building after a seemingly never-ending journey. ‘I’ve got to dash. I have a meeting at eight thirty. It was nice to meet you.’

‘Yes, of course, sorry.’

I’m such an idiot sometimes.

Chloe hoped that would be the last time she would have to apologise to anyone that day. She headed over to the rather fierce lady on the reception desk and then took a seat as instructed; it was clear that not everyone here was going to be so friendly.

She looked around as she waited, remembering her previous visit on the day of her job interview. It was certainly an impressive area – large and spacious and panelled in dark wood from floor to ceiling. Two stone lions sat proudly on either side of the lifts, casting clear reflections in the polished marble floor. She couldn’t help but compare it all to the offices of her previous firm.

Don’t worry, she thought, it can’t be that different. People are people wherever you go. An old eighties pop song burst into her head and refused to go away.

‘You can go up now. Mr Drake is ready for you. Third floor, room three-oh-three.’

Chloe looked up at the receptionist but she’d already moved on to her next task and had the telephone pressed to her ear. Never having been a fan of lifts, Chloe headed over to the stairs and began the climb to the third floor.

Stepping out from the stairwell, she was expecting to see a corridor with numbered offices, much like her old firm. However, this floor was open plan in design. A central area was filled with several rows of desks facing each other with low privacy barriers between them. About half the desks were filled and more people were arriving sporadically to start their daily routines, chatting about the previous evening and collecting cups of coffee from a modern-looking coffee machine. Around the edge of the main area were glass fronted offices. The nearest office to her left was numbered three oh one. She walked past it noticing that it was empty, past three oh two which was also empty, and approached room three oh three. The light was on and she knocked on the glass door, trying not to stare into the room as she waited.

‘Come in.’

She pushed the door open and walked in, immediately noticing how tidy everything was. Cupboards had door fronts on them, so that very few papers were on display, and none littered the floor. No boxes, or coats, or anything out of place. How very different to the old firm, she thought again, and then decided not to keep comparing the two. This was the future. Her future. Time to forget the past.

‘Oh, not you. My God, is someone having a laugh?’

8

Chloe’s heart sank. The words stopped her in her tracks as she focused on the large man sat behind the modern plastic-coated desk. It took just a moment for her to recognise the coffee accident victim from the train.

Really? On my first day? Someone is having a bloody laugh.

There was no obvious sign of the incident now, thank goodness, although his coat had taken most of the drink and that was nowhere to be seen. He was frowning, his already stern features exaggerated by the act. Together with his greying hair and braces, he looked every bit the stereotypical stressed-out ageing lawyer.

‘Hang on, stay where you are, let me move my coffee out of your way before you have it all over my lap.’ He very deliberately picked up his foam cup and placed it to the far side of the desk. ‘Right, good. Have a seat.’ He nodded at the chair on the other side of the desk. Chloe sat down, not knowing whether to smile or apologise again. She decided on the latter.

‘I really am very sorry about that. It was so busy on the train and I’m sure someone pushed me. If you want me to pay for your coat to be cleaned I’d be happy to…’

‘Forget it. These things happen. The coat’s already at the dry cleaners. I’ve had it years to be honest and it’s seen much better days. Anyway, I’m Brian Drake, family law partner. You must be Chloe. I’ve heard a lot about you.’

‘All good I hope.’ She immediately wished she hadn’t said that.

Drake didn’t smile and Chloe wondered if he could. His face didn’t seem like the kind of face that smiled very often.

‘Some of it, yes. But I take people as I find them. Do a good job here and we’ll be fine. Now, your desk is on the end of that first row there.’ He pointed to a work station just outside his door. ‘I’ve put some files on it so you can get cracking on those. There’s a mobile there too, and some business cards. We like our people to be contactable.’

Chloe sat looking at him, expectantly. She couldn’t help notice the deep lines that, on their own, would probably form an accurate sketch of his face.

‘Well off you go then. Time is money and all that. If you need any help, grab someone out there or ask one of the secretaries.’

‘Oh, right, yes of course. Thank you.’

Chloe walked quickly out of his office and over to her desk. She sat down and reached for her bag. She sighed and kicked herself.

I don’t believe this.

Returning to the office, she knocked gently, edged open the door and whispered quietly, ‘Sorry, I left my bag…’

Drake rolled his eyes, picked up the phone and started to dial out. Chloe scampered over, grabbed the offending object and hurried out to her desk. This day was turning out to be very awkward and she wished it was over already. She pulled out her own mobile and keyed a quick text to her father.

Am here, all OK, nice people, it read. There was no point in worrying him unnecessarily, after all.

9

The Timer took a long drag on his cigarette as he lent against the cold concrete wall outside the shopping complex. From here he had a good view of the huge car park which stretched before him into the distance. He’d always been puzzled by the popularity of these places; he much preferred trudging around his local shops than forcing his way through the crowds amongst the plastic and glass of a characterless shopping centre.

He pulled again on the cigarette. He didn’t usually smoke, but it gave him a reason to stand here unnoticed, effectively invisible, and that’s just the way he liked it.

To the outside world he was just Mr Average, a happily married man with two lovely daughters, but there was so much more to know. Very few people were allowed into that part of his life, and the nature of his work meant it had to remain that way.

He watched the cars streaming into the car park, the occupants carefully locking their doors and disappearing into the centre, shoppers and workers alike. He wanted an Audi today. He’d always loved the mix of reliability, class and comfort, and the power would come in handy on the steep roads that wound up into the Pennine hills. Such was the advancement in modern security that gone were the days when he could simply steal a car using a bent piece of wire or some other basic tool. It was a little more problematic in this day and age. Not difficult, but certainly more of a challenge. Fortunately, it was a challenge he relished.

He saw it then. A black Audi TT purred into the car park and pulled into a space some way from the centre. The car looked new, and no doubt the owner was taking care to park well away from other potentially less careful drivers. She was the only occupant of the vehicle and she stepped out and locked the car with the remote key, the headlights flashing an acknowledgement in return.

As she walked away she turned round several times to check her vehicle. The Timer smiled to himself.

Definitely a new car. Don’t worry, I’ll look after her.

She came right past him, telephone to her ear, seemingly making arrangements to meet someone inside. Wearing a bright green jacket, he knew she would be easy enough to follow. He dropped his cigarette, extinguishing it with a twist of his foot, pulled his cap down to obscure his face and followed her into the centre.

Keeping his distance, he remained hidden in the crowd, looking into shop windows and pretending to be interested in what was displayed behind them. The woman browsed inside a few shops but, confident there was no other way out, he simply waited nearby for her to reappear. He checked his watch. 09:20. He had to be up in the Pennines by ten and that was a twenty minute drive from here. Still plenty of time, but he needed to make his move soon.

It wasn’t long before the woman met up with a man of similar age to herself. He was dressed casually and they embraced as friends or family rather than lovers and headed over to a nearby coffee shop, deep in conversation, laughing and joking, clearly comfortable in each other’s presence. They found a table against the wall and sat down facing one another, still engrossed in their discussion. The Timer bought a coffee from the counter and sat at the neighbouring table, back to back with the woman in the green jacket. She hooked the long strap of her handbag over the back of her chair next to the wall, no doubt believing it was safely tucked away out of sight. But it was certainly within his reach, and now it was all about the timing. And that was something he was very good at.

His opportunity presented itself a few minutes later when a young girl arrived to take their order. They were apparently here for breakfast, and as they were engaged with the waitress he hunkered down subtly in his chair, slipped his hand backwards and down into her bag and carefully lifted out her car keys, which were easy enough to find. As soon as he had them, he stood up casually, checked his watch, and left. His work here was done and there was no point in hanging around for any longer than was necessary. 09:35. Now for a leisurely trip up into the Pennine hills.

Perfect timing, as ever.

10

Chloe was making good progress with the files that Drake had left on her desk. There was nothing she couldn’t handle - some run-of-the-mill divorce cases and a few child related matters involving access rights and care proceedings. She’d seen all this before. One matter in particular did however catch her attention. The firm were representing the mother of a young boy who was in the process of being taken into care due to the treatment he had received at the hands of his mother’s boyfriend. Chloe shook her head as she read through the details. It seemed to be such a common situation now. There were photographs of the boy in the file and they didn’t make for pleasant viewing. This was the kind of case that Chloe hated, but she knew that everyone was entitled to legal representation, so she would do the best she could for the mother, as ever.

‘Hi, my name’s Ray Fuller. I’m an associate solicitor here. I guess you must be the new trainee. Your first day is it?’

Chloe turned in her chair to find a very plain looking man in his early thirties standing in her comfort zone. Although he was wearing the standard suit and tie, the cut was poor and it just didn’t hang right from his wiry frame. She also noticed that his face was too thin, making his attempt at stubble look ridiculous somehow, almost rodent-like. The air around her instantly became musty and close, making her feel nauseous.

‘Yes. Yes, hello. Erm, I’m Chloe. Chloe Webster. Pleased to meet you.’ She offered him her hand but he clearly wasn’t expecting it and didn’t seem to notice. ‘I’m not the new trainee though. I mean, I am new, but I’m a qualified solicitor, not a trainee.’

‘Really? My secretary told me you were a trainee.’ He seemed to be looking her up and down and Chloe felt a shiver run up her spine. ’Anyway, I’ve got a couple of files here I’d like you to deal with. I’ve got far too much on at the moment and I’ve been waiting for you to start so that you can take some of the load off me.’ He dropped a hefty pile of files on her desk with a thud, and Chloe was sure that a faint cloud of dust formed in the air around them.

‘Yes, of course. Thanks. I’ll look at them today.’

‘You’re welcome, I’m sure there will be plenty more where that came from. I assume you’ve run your own caseload before?’

‘Yes. I had a full load at my last firm. They let me have complete responsibility for them. It was great experience.’

‘Where was that?’ He seemed interested so Chloe was happy to oblige him.

‘Finch Harrison. It’s out in Derbyshire. It’s a lovely firm to work at, small and friendly.’ For the second time today she instantly regretted her words as soon as they were out.

‘I’ve never heard of it. Still, it takes all sorts I suppose. I dare say these small firms have a place in the system somewhere. The work you get to deal with here will be of the highest quality. We do some really important stuff.’

Chloe wanted to defend the firm that taught her all she knew, but thought better of it this time.

‘Yes, I’m sure you do. What’s your area of expertise?’

‘Well, family law generally of course; this whole floor is devoted to family law and related matters. But the child stuff is what interests me the most.’

‘It can get very emotional,’ agreed Chloe.

‘Oh that doesn’t bother me, I find it easy enough to detach myself from the human side of it. I just find it all so fascinating.’ And with that he wandered off back towards his desk on the next row. Chloe didn’t really know what to make of what he’d said, but before long she was deep in the files that he’d left for her. They were very uninteresting, and she made a mental note not to become an easy dumping ground for Ray Fuller’s unwanted cast-offs.

11

The Timer enjoyed his drive up into the hills of the Pennines. As soon as he set off he tuned the radio to his favourite classical music station.

Ah, The Piano Sonata Number Sixteen in C Major if I am not mistaken.

He certainly knew his classical music, and it helped him relax as he made his way along the Woodhead pass, a windy and often treacherous road connecting Sheffield and Manchester over the Pennine hills. He was clear of the top and beginning his descent of the western side of the hills, and he expected to encounter the truck coming in the opposite direction any time now. He gave the task his full concentration, as the mist which had enveloped Sheffield itself had transformed into a much denser fog during the drive up here. On-coming traffic ghosted into view and disappeared again at such a speed that checking number plates was far from easy.

This wasn’t the first time he’d done this of course. It was a standard method of operation for Drabble. After importation through Liverpool the goods would be smuggled onto a truck at the docks and carried by an unsuspecting driver. Once clear, removal of the goods would be arranged at a convenient point. That’s where he came into the picture. Not yet sure where that convenient point would be, he knew from experience that an opportunity would come his way before long.

A huge truck appeared over the brow of the hill and thundered passed the Audi. It wasn’t the one he was looking for. Close behind it was another truck which was gone before he had a chance to read its plate. Fortunately, the road was relatively straight here and a glance in his rear view mirror allowed him just enough time to make out the first four digits of the plate before it disappeared into the fog. The digits matched the plate he had been given and he considered it was too much of a coincidence for it not to be the one he was searching for. He needed to get after it, but finding somewhere to spin the Audi round wasn’t going to be easy on this road. Several cars passed him from the opposite direction before he saw a small road off to the left. There were many reservoirs along this stretch and this narrow lane probably provided access to one of them. He pulled into the side road which, due to the shallow angle it formed with the main road, left plenty of room for him to turn the car around. He set off in pursuit of the truck, glad of the additional power which the Audi provided as it pulled back up the hill towards the summit.

Pushing the car to a speed which was probably not safe on the windy road, especially in the appalling weather conditions, he came up close behind the rear lights of the last car to have passed him. He could make out another set of red lights beyond it, but further into the distance the thick fog blocked his view. He had little choice but to sit and wait behind the car, knowing that the truck would probably be near the front of this line of traffic; the road had few turnoffs suitable for a vehicle of that size, and in any case, he had been told it was on its way to Sheffield, so there was no need to panic.

A few miles on, a lay-by which was popular with truck drivers loomed out of the mist on the left. Touching his foot gently on the brake, he slowed the car down and examined the scene. Surrounded by tall, upright pine trees, a small wooden food hut that had seen better days stood next to several parked trucks and at the far end he saw what could be his target. Passing the line of parked vehicles, he checked the registration plate.

That’s my baby.

He quickly pulled the Audi into the lay-by beyond the truck and sat watching in his rear view mirror. There was no sign of the driver and he assumed he must have already set off to the café for his breakfast. The Timer opened his door and stepped out onto the tarmac, glad that the fog was still thick enough to give him some cover. He moved quickly down the side of the truck furthest from the roadside so as not to be unnecessarily observed by any passing vehicles. He looked down the row to the cabin of the next truck to ensure no one was watching him, but that was also empty. The Timer drew his knife and stuck it into the tarpaulin, slicing open a couple of yards of the fabric, amazed at how easy it split open. He pulled out a torch and climbed inside.

The truck was loaded with unmarked wooden crates and he had been lucky to enter at a point where he could squeeze through to the centre of the wagon, where a gangway had been deliberately left running down the middle of the cargo. He moved quickly up and down looking between the crates for the bag.

The engine grumbled into life and the truck jerked to a start almost instantaneously.

The Timer cursed but had no choice other than to stay on board until he located the bag. He continued to search the spaces between the boxes as the truck picked up speed, and eventually found it stuffed down between a crate and the back of the truck’s cabin. The lorry was in full motion now, and he could feel it swaying as the road turned this way and that. He pulled the bag out from its hiding place and looked inside. The drugs were wrapped in opaque blue plastic but he knew what they were. He zipped it up and made his way back to where he’d cut open the tarpaulin. The cold air rushed in through the hole as the vehicle travelled over the hills. He pulled his coat closer around him to keep out the chill. All he had to do now was to wait for an opportunity to escape this moving prison. He knew the truck was going to Sheffield, so he could afford to wait a while. He relaxed. Things had actually worked out quite well.

12

‘Hello, Chloe Webster speaking.’

‘Yes, there’s a client down here asking to see the solicitor dealing with her matter. Her name is Miss Swanson. The system has you down as the solicitor responsible.’

‘Oh. Does she have an appointment do you know?’

‘No idea.’

Very helpful. ‘Okay. I’ll be down in a minute. Tell her to take a seat.’

‘I’ve already done that,’ snapped the receptionist.

The phone went dead and Chloe rolled her eyes. She grabbed the files on her desk and started to flick through them. Swanson. She’d read the name somewhere.

‘Got it,’ she said to herself and opened the file. Her heart skipped a beat as she realised it was the child abuse case she had been reading earlier. Miss Swanson’s boyfriend had inflicted some nasty injuries on her six year old son. Not a meeting she would have chosen to have within a couple of hours of starting at a new firm, but at least it was something to get her teeth into. She noticed there was nothing on the file to suggest that the client was due to come in today.

Chelsie Swanson was twenty five, just a year older than Chloe, but looked nearer to forty. She couldn’t have weighed more than seven or eight stone and looked worn out and tired of the life she had been handed. Chloe was sure she could see grey amongst the mousey hair which hung lifelessly from the young girl’s head, and any sense of outrage that Chloe had felt as she’d read the file drained away at the sight of this helpless human being.

‘Hello Miss Swanson, I’m Chloe Webster. I’m the solicitor acting for you on this matter. I understand the Local Authority intend to apply for a care order for George?’

The girl opposite her looked embarrassed. She looked down at the desk between them and twisted a length of hair around her fingers like a child. ‘I don’t really understand what that means.’

Chloe smiled. ‘I’m sorry Chelsie. My name’s Chloe and I’m here to help you. The authorities want to take George away from you and it’s my job to see if we can stop that happening.’

‘They can’t do that can they? I mean, it wasn’t my fault. Mark was such a bastard. I couldn’t do anything to stop it. Do they really think I wanted this to happen?’

‘Is Mark your partner?’

‘He was.’

‘Where’s George now?’

‘He’s at my mum’s place.’ Her eyes looked watery.

‘Okay, good. Now, he’s six years old isn’t he, and how’s he doing?’

‘He’s all right. He’s a tough little thing. I’m so proud of him. I’d do anything to protect him, but Mark was so strong, I couldn’t stop him.’

‘I know. Don’t worry, there are things we can do. One possibility might be for George to remain with your mum for a short time until things are sorted out, until you show the authorities that you can provide a safe environment for George.’

Chelsie smiled for the first time.

‘Really? That would be great. He’d love that, and it would give me a chance to turn things round. I know I can look after him. I’ll do anything to keep him safe. That bastard won’t get anywhere near him again.’

‘Is he still in your life?’

‘No. He’s in police custody at the moment and I hope he stays there. We’re not together anymore. And we never will be again.’

‘Good. That’s the first thing we’ll need to show. I’ll get in touch with the local authority and work out what they want to do next. It’ll probably involve some kind of meeting with them, but I’ll let you know as soon as I know anything.’

‘Okay, thank you so much. You’ve really helped to put my mind at rest.’

‘I’m not making any promises here, Chelsie. If it goes to court they have a very strong case. George has been hurt, and the court’s main concern will be that it doesn’t happen again. We need to persuade them that you can keep George safe. Here’s my card with my contact details on. Get in touch if anything happens. The most important thing is to keep Mark away from George, but if he’s locked up, that shouldn’t be a problem.’

‘Oh don’t worry; I won’t let that monster anywhere near my boy. It won’t happen again.’

Chloe was drawn to something in her eyes that she hadn’t noticed before. A steely determination perhaps, or maybe a sense of purpose?

Or was it more sinister than that?

13

It was obvious to the Timer that the truck was now in the city. The regular stopping and starting could only be due to heavy traffic, road junctions and the like. He carefully pushed the tarpaulin open and peered out. The thick fog had eased now that they were out of the hills again, but a mist still lingered. He saw rows of stone-built terraced houses go by but nothing significant that he recognised. Further down the road a row of shops flashed by and he realised from the names on the frontages that he wasn’t in Sheffield at all, but that the truck had in fact come into Barnsley. This could be a problem; he was only a few miles north of Sheffield, but he had an appointment later that day. And although he had never been late for anything, this was certainly not the time to start.

The view through the hole suggested a fairly central location, and when the truck next stopped he took the chance to clamber out onto the pavement. Confident no one had noticed him, he clasped the bag close and hurried off back in the direction from which he had just travelled.

He checked his watch. 11:40. This was going to be a close call. The meeting was at one o’clock; just over an hour to get there. He needed another car, and quickly. There was no time to be choosey for this one; any car would have to do. He broke into a light jog and turned up the first side road he came across. Rows of terraced houses flanked the cobbled street as it ran steeply uphill before him. A few cars dotted the roadside but not many; most people would be at work at this time. As he moved past each car he tried the door discreetly, but they were all locked up securely. He had lost count of the number of times he had done this before and easily found an unlocked car just begging to be stolen. Now, when he needed to find one quickly they were all locked up like Fort Knox.

He checked his watch again. 11:50. He started to experience the first initial signs of panic. He couldn’t be late. He was never late. Late is what other people did, not him. He had a reputation to preserve, but also an intrinsic fear of lateness. More than a fear; it was like a phobia. He didn’t know what it was called. He’d tried to find a name for it but even Google couldn’t seem to help with that. Beads of sweat started to run down his back. Was it the steep hill or the fear? He wasn’t entirely sure, but he didn’t like it one bit.

He knew he needed to act quickly now. A Ford Focus was parked just ahead of him. A welcoming light streamed from the front window of the house next to it. He walked up the steps and rang the doorbell. He had no idea what was about to happen, and he hated being unprepared, but he had no other choice.

14

‘Oh I’m very well, thanks… Yeah, he’s all right… He’s out at the moment… Down the Fox and Hound with his mates… I know it’s early… Well things have been a bit difficult lately… I don’t really want to talk about it… I know it would… I know you will… Well all right, as you know we’ve been arguing about money again lately… No, he still hasn’t found a job. He says there’s nothing out there… Well he says he is… No, he hasn’t, but he has bought a new car… Yes, it’s parked outside now... No, not brand new, but new to us… I’ve no idea why… A Ford Focus, about three thousand I think… I know… I had a real go at him for it and when I mentioned it again this morning he stormed out. Hang on Sue, there’s someone at the door… Oh hello, you must be the plumber, thank God you’re here. It’s in there, under the stairs. We just can’t get it to flush. Can you let me know how much it will be before you do any work? I’ll just be in the kitchen if you want anything… Sorry about that Sue, we’ve had trouble with the downstairs toilet. The plumber’s here now. I’ll have to go in a minute. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, so he’s gone off down the pub and no doubt he’ll be back later all apologetic. But he’ll be in there all day now, drinking away yet more of my hard-earned cash. Why the hell he thinks we need a new car when we are struggling to get the loo fixed is beyond me… Yeah I know, that’s what I said to him. Hang on Sue, I’ll just check on the plumber... Is everything all right in there? How much do you think it’ll cost… Hello? Hello? Where the hell…? Oh shit.’

The Timer gunned the Ford Focus down the road, the newly acquired car keys hanging from the ignition. He looked in the mirror.

Do I look like a fucking plumber?

15

Chloe continued to uncover differences between her previous firm and this larger, strange place full of unfamiliar characters. One thing she did like was the in-house sandwich shop. She made her way down at lunchtime and sat at one of the few tables outside the snack bar in the firm’s atrium, watching her new colleagues come and go. It was a little expensive, but very convenient, and she could see herself making good use of it during her time here.

Enjoying her sandwich and looking around her, she saw a familiar face coming through the atrium towards her. It was the man with whom she’d shared an overly intimate moment in the revolving doors that morning. She wasn’t in the mood for more apologising, so she turned and looked the other way as he disappeared into the shop to buy a sandwich. A moment later he reappeared and headed over to the tables.

Damn.

‘Do you mind if I join you?’

Chloe looked up at him. His boyish good looks were accentuated by a huge smile and surrounded by a mop of dark brown hair.

‘Yes, of course,’ she said politely, ‘but I will have to get back to work in a minute.’

‘Oh that’s a shame. I’m Ben. Ben Howson. You’re new here aren’t you? We met this morning I think!’ He unwrapped his sandwich and took a bite.

Chloe smiled politely. She knew he was only being friendly but she really didn’t feel like making polite conversation.

Do we have to do this?

‘Hi Ben. I’m Chloe. Yes, it’s my first day here. And it’s been a testing one so far to be honest.’ She found it hard to disguise the weariness in her voice.

‘I bet it has. There are some real characters up in the family law department.’ He looked intently at her as he spoke. She liked the attention and found the experience far less irritating than she thought it would be.

‘How did you know I was a family lawyer?’

‘I’ve just seen Ray and he told me we had a new starter. I work up there too, but I’ve been in meetings all morning. Have you come across Ray yet?’ He grimaced and she smiled.

‘Yes. He made sure I had plenty to be getting on with. I thought it was very good of him to be so considerate.’

Ben grinned. ‘That’s him.’

‘So how long have you worked here?’ asked Chloe, and ate the last piece of her sandwich.

‘Well I trained here for two years and then stayed on when I qualified. That was three years ago now I think. Yes, three years. It’s not a bad place once you settle in. Assuming you do a good job of course.’ That smile again.

‘Oh dear, that sounds ominous,’ laughed Chloe. ‘Do I need to be worried?’

‘No, not at all, but we’ve had one or two people come and go recently. There was one lad in particular who was only here for six months or so. He was fine when he first started and seemed enthusiastic enough, but then he seemed to go downhill for some reason, lost his way a little I think.’ He looked around as if to check that the lad himself wasn’t listening. ‘Some days he just didn’t turn up for work. No explanation or anything. He’s hardly been in at all for the last couple of months and no one’s heard from him for a while. I think he’s finally realised it’s not for him. Drake reckons he’ll be formally dismissed next time he shows his face.’

Chloe found him very easy to listen to. His voice was warm and friendly, with just a hint of a northern accent which she thought added character to his voice.

‘Wow. Has anyone tried to contact him?’

‘Yeah, I think so. Well HR will have done anyway, but I guess there’s only so much you can do if he’s not bothered anymore.’

‘I suppose so,’ agreed Chloe. ‘What about…’

‘Hi folks,’ interrupted a voice. ‘I see you’ve found the new girl then? Getting to know each other are you? You wanna be careful, people will talk.’ It was Ray.

‘Oh, hello Ray. Very funny. I was just telling Chloe about Simon…’

‘What that loser? I wouldn’t waste your breath if I were you. I don’t think we’ll see him around here again.’

‘Why not?’ asked Chloe. ‘Do you know where he is? Maybe he needs help and support.’ Why am I fighting his corner?

Ben looked surprised at the hint of aggression in her voice.

‘No, of course not, but I’ve seen his type before. Not prepared to go the extra mile. I hope you’re not like that.’ Ray looked at Chloe and she didn’t like his expression.

‘I’m fully committed,’ she asserted, her resentment stirring quickly now.

‘To the firm?’

‘To my clients. And to justice.’

‘That’s very noble of you. Let’s hope you appreciate what’s most important.’

Ben interjected. ‘Right, we were just off back to work weren’t we Chloe?’

‘We were’, she said, not breaking her eye contact with Ray. ‘I have clients to look after.’

‘He’s an associate solicitor you know?’ advised Ben when they were a safe distance away. ‘Works very closely with Drake and not really someone you want to fall out with.’

Chloe stopped and looked at Ben. She didn’t have him down as a company man and she felt just a little disappointed in him.

‘He’s also an arsehole,’ said Chloe, and walked off towards the lifts.

16

‘Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.’ The tension caused cramps across his shoulders. The traffic was heavy now, and time was pressing hard. He checked his watch for the third time in quick succession. 12:35. He was never late. Twenty five minutes was not going to be enough to get him there on time.

‘What the hell? Go! Fucking go!’

The car in front had stalled at a green light and the Timer took a deep breath as the lights turned back to red.

Idiot.

He looked at the bag beside him. He’d never been late for a job before. He hated people being late. Reliable, dependable, accurate. His reputation had been built up over many years and he wasn’t going to let it slip easily. Hot flushes were coming regularly now and he could feel the damp of sweat under his clothes. Not having been in this situation for a long time, dark memories of his childhood began to surface as the phobia tightened its grip. He tried to shake them off, but that cloudless autumn day of twenty five years ago was as clear as if it was yesterday. Running through the streets as a nine year old, he knew he would be late for school. Detention was the standard punishment, but what happened during that detention would live with him forever. The teacher concerned was arrested and imprisoned a few years later when one of his victims eventually went to the police and made formal accusations against him, but the horrific events he experienced in that classroom would mean he could never, ever, risk being late again.

The traffic light turned back to green and rescued him from his thoughts. This time the car in front managed to set off without a hitch. The traffic, however, simply would not disperse, and the journey didn’t get any easier.

The meeting place was a disused warehouse on the outskirts of Sheffield. The grey building loomed above him as the Timer pulled up and checked his watch. 13:03. Shit. He stepped out into the mist and hurried towards a small door set into the wall next to a huge metal shutter.

‘I was starting to think you weren’t coming.’

The voice greeted him as he pushed through an inner door into a concrete room. Part of the ceiling had collapsed and the floor was littered with scraps of plaster, wood and metal, along with the cast-offs from drug users. What little light there was edged its way in through a small window set high up in the wall opposite him. The owner of the voice stood holding a bag and had pulled his hood up and over his head so as to obscure his face. In this light, the Timer would never be able to recognise him again, and he knew that was the intention.

‘Throw the bag over here,’ demanded the hoodie.

‘Have you got the cash?’ The Timer was beginning to feel calmer after his journey.

‘What do you think this is, a fucking handbag?’ The hoodie held up the plastic carrier bag he was carrying. ‘Just throw the bag over here and then I’ll do the same.’

‘Hundred grand?’ asked the Timer.

‘That’s what was agreed.’

‘Well why make it all so difficult then? Let’s just make the exchange and get out of here.’ The Timer didn’t like this kid. He was unprofessional, and he looked nervous. That was always a sign of danger.

‘Give me the fucking bag,’ screamed the hoodie. The weapon appeared from nowhere and the Timer sighed.

Give them a gun and they think they’re Clint fucking Eastwood.

‘Okay, okay. Here, take it.’ The bag landed a couple of paces to the gunman’s left and just behind him. It was a calculated move by the Timer. ‘Now you give me the money.’

‘Yeah, yeah, all in good time.’ The hoodie bent down to collect the bag and couldn’t resist a glance inside. As he focused his attention on the contents the Timer took a step back to the wall and grabbed hold of a piece of wood which had fallen with the collapsed ceiling. He clasped it behind his back, careful to keep it hidden from his assailant.

‘Good. Looks like the drugs are all here. I guess we can both now relax.’ The hoodie tucked the gun into his belt and made towards the door, passing near to where the Timer stood. He tossed the carrier bag of cash at the Timer’s feet. ‘Nice doing business with you.’

The Timer smiled. ‘The pleasure’s all mine, son.’ The makeshift weapon made a sickening crack, the thick material of the hood doing little to dampen the sound. Such was the force of the swing that the wooden baton broke in two. The Timer reached down to the body now lying next to the bag of drugs and checked for a pulse. He stooped to collect the cash and left.

Nobody would ever know he’d been late. At last he could relax.

17

As Chloe walked down the hill towards home she noticed that the mist had started to clear and a few stars were winking intermittently overhead in a clear sky. The cold of another February evening had taken its grip and occasional streetlights guided her home in the darkness. She had left at six o’clock, thinking that was reasonable for her first day. Tiredness had come upon her suddenly on the train home and she’d felt her eyelids falling with the lullaby rhythm of the train.

Opening the cottage gate and pacing up the flagstone path to the door, she could smell her favourite pasta dish in the air and it was very welcome after the day she’d just had. Her father really was a diamond when he wanted to be.

‘Hi Dad,’ she shouted as she pushed open the door.

‘In the kitchen love,’ came his strong, familiar tones. If it wasn’t obvious by his appearance that he was ex-military, then the sergeant-major’s voice certainly gave it away. ‘How’d it go today?’

‘Yeah it was all right. I’ll tell you about it over dinner. I’ll just get changed.’

Chloe headed up to her bedroom. Her only completely private space in the world served to relax her even more. She quickly changed out of her formal work clothes, washed her face and looked in the mirror.

‘That’s more like it,’ she said to the naturally pretty face staring back at her. She thought about the people she’d met today. Drake seemed okay; busy and impatient as you’d expect from a partner in a large law firm. Ben seemed nice enough, if a little irritating in a puppy dog kind of a way. And as for Ray Fuller well, he was best avoided if at all possible. She looked at her reflection again and stared deep into her own eyes. Maybe I need to give him more time. Perhaps I’m relying too much on first impressions.

‘There you go love, your favourite,’ said her father as Chloe sat down in the kitchen with a contented sigh.

‘That’s fantastic Dad, just what I need. I’m so hungry.’

‘So tell me about your day.’ He joined her at the table with his own plate.

‘Oh, you know, the usual Chloe Webster kind of thing. I managed to spill coffee on my boss before I even knew who he was, fall out catastrophically with one of my colleagues and probably ruin a potential friendship with another. And on top of all that I had to see a client who I’d rather not have dealt with on day one. So pretty good going really, all things considered.’

Her father smiled and looked proudly at his daughter across the table. ‘I’m sure it wasn’t that bad. You’ll soon settle in.’

‘Yeah I know. It’s just that everything is very different to the old place; so strange and new. I’ll get used to it. Dad, this pasta is great. And the bread too; homemade I’m guessing?’

‘It is. I thought you’d need a good fill when you got in. Any plans for tonight?’

‘No. I need a good night’s sleep. I’m getting an earlier train tomorrow to avoid my boss. I can’t stand the idea of having to go through all that again. Honestly dad, it was so embarrassing when I knocked his coffee all over him on the train. It was packed and everyone just stood staring at me like sheep. And imagine the shock when he turned out to be my boss! The thought of it still makes me cringe.’

Her father laughed and she joined in. There had only been the two of them for several years now, since her brother left home. Her father often encouraged her to think about getting a place of her own but part of her wanted to stay with him. He’d miss her terribly if she left, but she’d miss him too. For now she was in no rush to live on her own.

Chloe finished her meal and helped her father clean up.

‘There’s a good film on tonight love if you fancy it.’

‘Yes, okay, as long as it doesn’t go on too late. I really am whacked.’

She noticed her father limping a little more than usual. ‘Is your leg bothering you again, dad?’

‘Only a little. Comes and goes, you know. I’ll go back to the doctors if it doesn’t improve in the next day or two. There’s no point making a fuss, they’ve done all they can.’ Her father had suffered a career ending injury in the army. He could walk, but needed a stick to assist him over any distance. ‘I’ll take some painkillers.’

‘Okay, but don’t suffer with it unnecessarily. Come on, that film starts in a minute.’

18

The Timer woke to the sound of his alarm. 07:30. He was up and out of bed before his wife had even stirred. The hot, stinging water from the power shower was soon bouncing off his face, removing any lingering remnants of a good night’s sleep. After a time, he could hear his wife moving around in the bedroom and calling to the girls. His family was important to him, more than anything else. He smiled to himself and squeezed shampoo into his hand.

‘What are you up to today?’ asked his wife as he strolled into the large modern kitchen.

‘Oh nothing much. This and that, you know. I’ve got an appointment at the solicitors this morning for some business, but I won’t be long. Do you want me to pick the girls up later?’

‘Oh that would be really helpful if you could. I’m meeting Gill for lunch and you know how she likes to go on. It could be a long one!’

He smiled at her knowingly. The truth was he thought Gill was one of the most annoying people he had ever met, but he’d never say anything to his wife. The two were good friends and had been for many years, since they were at school together.

‘Which solicitors are you going to? Local, or in town?’ she asked.

‘In town. That one opposite the town hall. Anderson and something, I think it’s called. They’re reliable, we find. A bit stuffy, but reliable. They tend to do things the way we want them done.’

‘Oh right, okay.’ She lost interest in the conversation as her two daughters marched into the kitchen and instantly demanded her full attention. ‘What do you want for breakfast then you two? Cereal? Toast? Or I can do you some eggs if you want.’

The Timer checked his watch. 07:55. Time he wasn’t here. His appointment at the lawyers was at 09:30.

Mustn’t be late.

A shiver crept up his back as he recalled the events of yesterday, and the dark memory of his schooldays started to lurch into his thoughts again. He crushed it by turning his attention to his daughters.

‘Give daddy a big hug then.’ He spread his arms and his daughters jumped on him with squeals of joy.

He’d left the bag of cash hidden in the garage and he collected it on the way out. Time to clean some money, he thought to himself.

The word was that the new contact was more reliable than the last one. A girl this time he’d been told; surely easier to deal with than that idiot who was there before.

He hoped so, for her sake.

19

The earlier train served its purpose well and Chloe arrived at work without encountering Drake. She would have found it awkward to fish around for polite conversation on a crowded train, especially after the incident with the coffee. Maybe when she got to know him better she would make more of an effort, but in the meantime, she thought it wise to steer well clear. In any case, the earlier train was much less crowded and in her opinion that was worth the loss of an extra twenty minutes in bed.

She glanced over to the coffee machine and saw Ben pondering over his choice of morning refreshment. She decided that she had some bridges to repair from yesterday, so she scooted over to the machine herself to say hello.

‘Morning Ben. How are you today?’ She smiled in the hope that he didn’t harbour a grudge about their difference of opinion over Ray.

‘Oh hello Chloe. Not bad thanks. You?’ He removed his coffee from the machine and took a sip. She felt relieved and thankful for his friendly response.

‘Yeah I’m okay. Listen I’m sorry about yesterday. It was a testing day and I was a bit tense when we spoke at lunchtime. I’m sure Ray’s all right really. I’ll try to speak to him later and smooth things over. You’re right of course; I don’t want to fall out with him really. I just found him a bit creepy.’

Ben laughed. ‘I’ve heard that said before about Ray. God this coffee is awful. I really ought to stick to the hot chocolate; it’s the only thing that’s drinkable from this bloomin’ machine.’

Chloe decided there and then that she liked Ben. He seemed to be a genuinely nice guy, and rather handsome too she thought.

‘Chocolate it is then.’ She smiled again, and realised that he had brightened her day, even this early in the morning, and that was no mean achievement. ‘I’ll see you later.’

She spent the next hour or so reading back through the files she had been given by Drake and Ray. There wasn’t a great deal to do on any of them, but she dictated the odd letter and made some notes of her initial thoughts. There were also some calls to make but they’d have to wait until later. It was too early to ring clients and certainly too early for the local court.

‘I need you to see a client this morning.’ It was Ray. No hello or good morning, just straight in there. Chloe knew she had to make an effort.

‘Good morning Ray. No problem, what’s it about?’

‘It’s Mr Crawford. He’s a regular client so take good care of him. I think he wants some help on a new deal. Something about property if I recall correctly.’

That threw Chloe off a little and she couldn’t help but sound surprised.

‘Property? We don’t do that here do we?’

‘We do for this client. And I’ve heard that you did some property stuff at your old firm?’

She wondered where he’d heard it from exactly. ‘A bit yes, but only as a trainee. And I had close supervision…’

‘That’ll do. He only wants initial advice about some project he’s thinking of doing. He’ll be here at half nine.’ Ray started to walk away.

‘But what if I can’t handle it?’ insisted Chloe. ‘It’s a while since I took instructions on a…’

‘You’ll be fine. If it gets too complex we have a locum we can call on to help you out. We need to keep this client happy, so just go and see what he wants. And be nice to him.’

Chloe wondered why Ray couldn’t see the client himself if he was so important, but she tried to see the positive side. Having been effectively made redundant from her last firm, the busier she was the better in her opinion. And if she became the firm’s main contact for any property work that did come their way, then that was no bad thing in her view.

She checked her watch. It was quarter past nine. She finished the note she was dictating and drank what remained of her hot chocolate, which wasn’t much better than the coffee, and then headed off down to reception. She approached the reception desk and caught the eye of the woman behind it.

‘Hi, is Mr Crawford waiting down here somewhere?’

‘Meeting room three,’ came the usual stern reply.

‘Thank you so much,’ Chloe said in an overly-friendly voice accompanied by a sickly sweet smile. She was determined not to sink to the level of the receptionist.

Meeting room three was a small room for no more than four people. Like all the firm’s public areas, it was adorned with a safe blue carpet, grey painted walls and light oak effect furniture. Indistinct pictures of modern art completed the bland corporate image.

‘Good morning Mr Crawford. Chloe Webster. I understand that you want some advice on a property transaction?’

‘Ah, hello, yes. I’m very pleased to see that you’re here on time. That gives me a great deal of confidence.’ The Timer smiled broadly. ‘We should get along just fine.’

20

The Timer was indeed impressed. Youngsters these days were so often ignorant of the importance of timing. This girl couldn’t be twenty five yet but she knew the importance all right. In fact her all round immaculate presentation and professional manner told him all he needed to know. She was good. And that might actually make this more difficult than he’d hoped it would be.

Chloe returned his smile. ‘I’m sure we will, Mr Crawford. Now, what can I do for you exactly?’

‘Straight down to business, eh? Well, time is money I suppose, and the clock will be ticking, no doubt.’

Chloe smiled again. She wasn’t sure what she made of this guy yet. He looked like a property developer, or at least, what she always assumed a property developer would look like. Smart jeans, black polo-neck shirt under a grey sports jacket, designer stubble and an air of confidence, tinged with a hint of cockiness. He was yet to remove his dark glasses.

Indoors, in February, thought Chloe. How ridiculous does he look?

‘Well, I assumed you’d want to get things done as quickly as possible. Why don’t you just tell me what the project is and we’ll take it from there?’ Chloe opened her notepad as if to emphasise that she was ready.

‘The project, yes, good idea,’ said the Timer slowly. ‘It’s an investment opportunity down by the canal, just outside the city centre. An old warehouse has come onto the market for a bargain price and I think I can convert it into apartments and sell on for a healthy profit. I need a good lawyer to make sure I get the best deal, and that’s where you come in.’

‘Okay, I see. Well obviously I can’t advise you on whether it’s a good deal or not, but you seem confident enough about that anyway. I assume you’ve had specialist advice on the financials?’

The Timer grinned again. Chloe thought he grinned too much, and it was starting to make her feel a little uneasy. It wasn’t a smile exactly; nothing in the eyes, just a movement of the mouth.

‘I’m confident about the financial side of things,’ he said, not really answering her question.

‘So you want me to act for you in purchasing the warehouse? Legal advice, I mean?’

‘I guess that’s the long and short of it.’ Another grin. He pulled out a carrier bag and placed it on the table next to him. ‘Ray said you were good.’

‘That’s very kind of him.’ How the hell does he know? We only met yesterday. ‘I’ll need full details of the property.’

‘No problem.’

Chloe ran through what she could remember of the procedure for taking instructions for a property purchase, although she was a little rusty. It was a few months since she’d done anything like this, and even then not on a project of this size. Never once did her client check anything against any written information, and she didn’t know whether to be impressed or concerned. He was conversant with all the details of the project, and for some reason she formed the impression that he was making it up as he went along.

‘There is just one final thing Mr Crawford. I will need some identification from you before you leave if that’s okay?’ said Chloe as the interview came to an end. ‘It’s standard procedure.’

‘That might be a problem. You see I don’t have anything on me at the moment. I’ve instructed this firm many times before. Why don’t you check with Ray, I’m sure he’ll vouch for me?’

‘I’ll see what he says. Right, Mr Crawford, I think that’s everything…’

‘Well there is just one last thing to deal with isn’t there?’

‘What’s that?’ asked Chloe, a little puzzled.

‘The money side of things. The financials as you call it.’

‘Oh don’t worry, I’ll let you know when we need anything from you. The deposit won’t be payable until we exchange contracts and that could be some weeks away yet. Our charges will be set out in the letter I send after this…’ She stopped abruptly as the Timer opened the carrier bag that had been sitting on the desk and tipped out a pile of paper bundles which bounced and settled on the table in front of her. It took a moment for her to realise they were tightly bound blocks of banknotes.

21

Chloe sat there in silence staring at the cash. Her heart began to race. Was that because she was unsure about what was happening here or because she was looking at more cash than she had ever seen in her life before? She didn’t know, it was probably both, but she could instantly hear her tutor’s voice, back in law school, lecturing her about the danger signs of money laundering. And there was no denying that this pile of cash in front of her was a danger sign. People didn’t deal in cash these days, at least, not in this amount of cash. She began to pray there was an innocent explanation for it. As she became aware of the silence in the room, she lifted her eyes from the cash to the face of the client sitting opposite her. Of course, he was grinning back at her.

‘One hundred thousand pounds,’ he confirmed calmly and relaxed back into his chair, ‘towards the purchase price of the warehouse. I expect you’ll want to count it. I’m happy to wait.’

Chloe really didn’t know what to say. If this were some confused elderly client sat before her, she would know exactly how to handle the situation. But this wasn’t like that at all. This guy knew exactly what he was doing, and his confidence worried her.

‘I… erm… we don’t accept cash payments on that scale,’ she managed to say at last. ‘I mean, we aren’t allowed to.’

‘Oh I think you’ll be okay with this one. Check with Ray, I’m sure it’ll be fine.’ His grin was unrelenting.

Anger suddenly stirred within Chloe. She had trained hard to become a solicitor and she was starting to see exactly where this was going. And she’d heard enough about Ray bloody Fuller already. If he would be so obliging with all of this, why the hell wasn’t he here now dealing with it? She felt like she was being used, although she wasn’t entirely sure how, or by whom.

‘I’m sorry Mr Crawford, we don’t accept cash payments like this. You’ll have to take the cash back and arrange a bank transfer in due course. Besides, we don’t need the cash yet, we’re a long way from that stage. As I say, exchange of contracts could be weeks or even months away yet.’

‘Why don’t you just give Ray a call, Miss Webster?’

‘I’m not going to call Ray. We don’t accept cash payments.’ Chloe surprised herself with her own assertiveness. For the first time the grin disappeared from the face of the man opposite her. And for the first time she felt a little afraid.

‘If I take this cash away now things might become a little, how shall I put it, a little unsettling.’

Chloe wanted to leave. She stood up and opened the meeting room door.

‘We’ll be in touch in due course Mr Crawford,’ she said in a loud voice. It had the desired effect as the receptionist looked up and scowled at her from across the lobby.

The Timer knew he was getting nowhere here. She was anything but the soft touch he had been promised, but he liked her even more for it. She was brave, and had standards; he respected her for that. He collected together the cash and returned it to the carrier bag. Heading out to the reception area, he stopped a little too close to Chloe and grinned.

‘No, we’ll be in touch. Good day Miss Webster.’ He walked out of the building having received a warm smile from the receptionist. Chloe saw the interaction and marched over to the reception desk, adrenaline still pumping through her. As she approached, the woman looked down and scowled again. She must have been in her late fifties, neat but greying hair, and rather more petite than Chloe had thought. The chair in which she sat seemed much too large for her.

‘Hello, you probably don’t remember me but I’m Chloe Webster, a new member of staff, a solicitor, I started yesterday?’

‘No not really. What do you want?’ came the reply.

‘I’ve just finished with a client and thought I’d pop over and formally introduce myself…’

‘I’m Gloria. But I’m also rather busy at the moment, so if this could wait until another time…’

‘I wanted to ask about the client who just left Gloria. Mr Crawford. What do you know about him?’

‘He’s a regular client, that’s all I know. Now if you’ll excuse me I really must get on.’ She never once looked up from the pieces of paper she was shuffling around behind the counter.

Chloe walked away and headed towards the stairs. She wanted some time to clear her head. She couldn’t quite believe what had just happened, and she needed to plan her next move carefully. Should she speak to Ray as Crawford had insisted, or would Drake be a better option? Perhaps she’d run it past Ben and see what he thought.

Shit. Why did that have to happen to me? And on my second bloody day.

22

The Timer pulled up outside the club in a south-eastern suburb of Sheffield. The façade was clean, fresh and painted green. One of the most popular snooker clubs in Sheffield, it had been the front for Drabble’s operation for years. Most of the customers were oblivious. Others knew the background of the place. An unlucky few had caused trouble and found out the hard way. The Timer wasn’t exactly one of the gang, but he had done plenty of work for Drabble over the last few years, mostly consisting of fetching and carrying. The offer of something more serious was always there but the Timer was reluctant to get too involved. His own family meant a lot to him, and he could never let another family become more important, even if they did pay well. It was a difficult balancing act sometimes, but the quality of his work had meant Drabble was okay with how things were.

The club was quiet inside, triangles of light streaming down through the darkness on just a couple of snooker tables at the far end. Along with the clicking of snooker balls, the low, inaudible murmur of voices made their way down the otherwise silent hall. The Timer headed over to the bar.

‘All right Mickey? Is the boss in?’

‘Hey, Mr T, I haven’t seen you around for a while. How’s it going?’ The gang only knew him as the Timer; he would never disclose any personal details to them, for his own safety and that of his family.

‘Yeah, yeah, good thanks Mickey. Is he in?’

‘No, he’s out I’m afraid. Won’t be back ‘til tomorrow. Jez is here, shall I give him a shout?’

‘Is it all right if I just go through? It’s a bit delicate. You know how things are.’

‘Yeah, sure. Be my guest mate.’

‘Thanks Mickey. See you later, yeah? Maybe we’ll have a game?’

‘Yeah, great.’

The strengthened wooden door behind the bar led to an office which was where Drabble would usually be found. The Timer knocked once and went straight in.

‘Mr T, you looking for Drabble?’ The man sat behind the desk was slim and smart and had an air of confidence about him; much more professional looking than Mickey, who tended to look scruffy regardless of what he wore. The Timer knew them both pretty well. He certainly knew that Jez was reliable and had some authority in the family. Mickey, on the other hand, was treated like the village idiot.

‘Yeah. Mickey says he’s out. I wanted to talk about the new contact at that law firm he sent me to this morning. I was under the impression she was a sure thing.’

‘She’d better be. That’s what I was told,’ said Jez with a sigh and a look of annoyance on his face. He pushed the papers he had been working on to one side and sat back in his chair.

‘I took the money in this morning…’ began the Timer.

‘Oh yeah, I heard you’d got it. Why the fuck did you kill the delivery boy?’

‘He had it coming. The little shit pulled a gun on me. Can you believe that? I had no choice but to teach him a lesson or two.’

‘A lesson or two? I heard you cracked his skull wide open. Drabble’s not happy about it; he’s trying to get in with the Kirklands and you go and kill one of their lackeys. Luckily they weren’t too bothered – seems they thought he was a pain in the arse too.’

‘Well I’ve saved them a job then haven’t I? I guess they found the drugs I left behind?’

‘They did.’

‘Good. Anyway, about the money, the girl at the lawyers wouldn’t take it. She said they had rules about that kind of thing and she seemed very keen to stay within those rules.’

‘Oh sweet Jesus, not another one.’ Jez puffed his cheeks with irritation again. ‘What the fuck are they doing down there? I’ll give my contact a call. It sounds like this bitch hasn’t got the full picture yet.’

‘Okay Jez. The cash is safe; let me know what to do with it. I’ll expect full payment for the work I’ve done so far of course.’

Jez looked at him for a moment and the Timer started to think there was going to be a row.

‘Yeah, yeah, I’m sure Drabble’ll be fine with that. You got the drugs and all that, didn’t you? I’ll have a word with him.’

‘And the girl?’

‘Leave her to me. She’ll come round to our way of thinking, one way or another.’

23

Chloe had been back at her desk for a while as lunchtime approached. She tried to work on a couple of other files but found it hard to concentrate and knew that it was essential that she should speak to someone. She looked over at Drake’s office and through the glass she could see him at his desk, working but alone and not on the phone either. She took a deep breath and hurried over, knocking just a little too hard on the door, which she put down to nerves.

‘Yes?’ came the rather weary reply.

Chloe walked in somewhat more confidently than she felt and didn’t sit down.

‘Mr Drake, have you got a minute?’

‘What is it Chloe?’

‘There’s something I need to talk to you about. It follows on from a meeting I had this morning with Mr Crawford. He’s a client of ours…’

‘Yes I’m aware of Mr Crawford thank you Chloe. He’s been a client here for some time now. What is it?’

‘Well, he tried to give me a large sum of cash and I refused to take it…’

‘Oh he’s done that before. I’m not keen on it but we’ve known him a long time. I suggest you have a word with Ray about it. He tends to deal with Mr Crawford.’

‘It was one hundred thousand pounds.’ She expected this to get his full attention.

‘That sounds about right.’ He really didn’t sound that bothered at all.

‘Mr Drake, I’m sure you know the rules as well as I…’

‘Chloe, please, I’ve got a stack of calls to get through here. Talk to Ray, he’ll be able to put your mind at rest I’m sure.’

Talk to Ray, that’s all I ever hear.

She had no option but to leave his office and once outside she looked around for Ray, catching sight of him over the far side of the office where he was chatting to a secretary. As she approached she could see the secretary laughing and flicking her hair in what Chloe thought was a rather obvious manner.

Really? Ray Fuller?

‘Ray, can I have a word please? It’s urgent.’ Chloe wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries and gave Ray a look which left him in no doubt of that fact.

‘Sounds important,’ said Ray and pulled a face at the secretary as if he was in trouble. He looked back at Chloe but she had already marched off to the side of the office out of earshot of those working in the area. Ray strolled over as if he had all the time on the world.

‘Listen, Ray, I saw that client of yours this morning, Mr Crawford. I have to say, he gave me the creeps. But more importantly he tried to give me a bundle of cash - one hundred thousand pounds, according to him. Now as far as I’m concerned that screams money laundering and I’m not prepared to take that kind of risk with my career…’

‘So what have you done with the cash?’ interrupted Ray.

‘What do you mean, what have I done with the cash? I didn’t accept it of course. He took it away with him.’

‘He did what?’ Ray’s voice was louder than before, and he seemed agitated all of a sudden. His face turned noticeably pale.

‘He took it away with him. I refused to take it, in accordance with all the guidance, training and advice I’ve ever received on the issue.’

Ray loosened his collar as if he needed more air. ‘Mr Crawford’s an important client. He and his colleagues provide many thousands of pounds of work to the trust department downstairs. He’s involved with a lot of overseas business.’

‘I bet he is…’

‘Chloe, you’ve possibly just lost us one of our best clients. I suggest you go and get on with some work. I’ll give him a call and try to smooth things over.’

‘I’m amazed at how relaxed everyone seems to be with this. Are you not the slightest bit concerned by how he conducts his business?’

Ray broke eye contact with her for the first time. For a moment, he seemed lost for words.

‘Just leave it Chloe.’

‘But...’

‘I said, leave it.’ Again his voice was louder than it needed to be and several people looked up from desks nearby.

‘Well just don’t ask me to see him again.’

Chloe walked off back to her desk. She sat down and tried to put things out of her mind.

Leave it to Ray. Let him take responsibility, and the blame.

24

The ringtone from the mobile phone that the firm had provided was still unfamiliar to her, and it took a few seconds for Chloe to realise it was her phone that was ringing. She checked the screen - it was an external call displaying an unknown caller. Her heart skipped a beat as she pressed the green button and placed it to her ear.

‘Hello, Chloe Webster speaking.’ She knew she sounded less sure of herself than she would like.

‘Chloe, it’s Chelsie.’

She breathed a small sigh of relief.

‘Oh hello Chelsie, what can I do for you? Is everything okay?’

‘No it’s not. It couldn’t be much worse. They’ve only let him out.’

‘Who, Mark? When?’

‘This morning. Apparently the court granted bail and so he’s back at home. Can you believe that?’

‘Has he been in contact with you?’ Chloe grabbed a pen and started to make a note of their conversation for the file.

‘No, not yet. I won’t let him in if he comes round. Anyway, George is still at mum’s house. He doesn’t know that.’ Chelsie sounded scared, but also assertive and determined.

‘Okay. Thanks for letting me know Chelsie. I’ll give the local authority a call and also try to speak to the police officer dealing with it to see what went wrong.’

‘Thanks Chloe.’

‘No problem. I’ll be in touch soon.’

Chloe hung up. She couldn’t believe that bail had been granted. There must have been a complication somewhere along the line. There’s no way the court would let him out knowing what he had done to George.

‘Hi Chloe.’ It was Ben, smiling widely. ‘How’re things?’

‘They’ve been better to be honest, Ben. I’ve had a bit of an issue with one of Ray’s clients this morning and I’ve got a worrying child abuse case on my hands too. Plenty to think about shall we say.’

‘Which of Ray’s clients is it?’ He seemed genuinely interested.

‘Mr Crawford. I assume you’ve heard of him?’

Ben winced. ‘Oh dear, he’s important. I know Ray has been advising him for a while now on various matters. What happened?’

‘He tried to give me a hundred thousand pounds in cash and I refused to take it for obvious reasons.’

‘Sounds reasonable.’ He straightened his tie and fiddled with his cuff.

‘I can feel a but coming on…’

‘I guess he’s a regular client who we know well. I think we’ve let him do it before. It’s a tricky one I suppose.’

Chloe sighed. ‘Especially on your second day. I wish Ray had just come to the meeting with me.’

‘Don’t worry; I’m sure he’ll sort it out. Listen, do you like the theatre?’

‘I do yes. Not that I go that often, but if something good comes along…’ It suddenly occurred to her what he was about to ask and she was surprised that her heart seemed to trip over itself for a moment.

‘I’ve got a couple of tickets for tonight. There’s a great comedy on at the Crucible if you fancy it? No strings, I just thought it might cheer you up.’

Chloe hadn’t expected this and she was lost for words for what seemed like an age. Ben sensed her hesitation and he spoke again.

‘No problem if you don’t want to. As I say, no strings…’

‘Sorry Ben, you took me by surprise that’s all. Yes, of course, why not? That’d be fun. I could do with getting my mind off of this place for a while. Shall I meet you in town?’

‘No, I’ll pick you up,’ offered Ben, enthusiastically. ‘I live out on the west side so it’s no trouble for me to drive out to Derbyshire. Just text me the post code and I’ll find it. About seven?’

‘That’s very kind of you, Ben. See you later.’

Ben walked back to his desk, his grin not visible from where Chloe was sitting.

25

Nathan held on to his daughter’s hand tightly as they made their way through the busy, unfamiliar streets of Amsterdam. Although he’d been here once before, he was just a child himself at the time, and so far nothing he had seen of the place brought back any clear memories. Of course, he remembered the water, and the bridges and the tall narrow houses that looked like they should be in a jigsaw puzzle vista, but nothing specific jogged his memory.

‘I wish mummy could’ve come with us,’ said the girl who skipped along by his side, her blonde hair streaming out behind her in the breeze.

He looked down at her and a pair of blue eyes glinted back at him in the sunlight. He never ceased to be amazed at the startling brightness of his daughter’s eyes. Even strangers had been known to comment on their mesmerising beauty. He knew one day they would serve her well in this world.

‘Daddy wishes that too Francesca, but she’s busy. We know mummy has to work whilst we’re here, but it’s still better than being back at school in London isn’t it?’

‘Yes!’

He smiled and knelt down in front of her, pulling her red duffle coat back up onto her shoulders and buttoning it securely against the cool air. He loved spending time with his daughter, and cherished the opportunity to have her to himself for a few hours. His wife worked for an international marketing company which had its head office in Amsterdam. She was on a business trip and they’d come with her. And why not? An all-expenses paid trip to a great city, staying in a top hotel with plenty of time on their hands. What could be better than that?

‘Can we go on a boat daddy?’ asked Francesca looking out over the canal which was now running alongside them.

‘Maybe at the weekend, when mummy’s with us. I think she’d really like to do that too don’t you?’

‘Yes, she would. Can we get an ice cream?’

‘Good idea.’

They wandered over to a café and came out with two huge cones piled high with double chocolate ice cream. They were probably too large in all honesty but his inability to speak the native language meant that the café owner had taken the chance to serve him the most expensive ice cream they had. But nothing was too good for his little angel and he didn’t feel cheated at all.

Nathan breathed in the fresh afternoon air and took a mouthful of the creamy chocolate.

‘Now this really is better than being at school. Right?’

‘Right!’ she agreed, and grabbed his hand again as they set off down the street. Leaving a row of shops behind them they approached the river Amstel which ran through the heart of the city. The river was busy, and they sat on a bench and finished their ice creams, whilst Francesca pointed out all the different kinds of boats which glided gently by.

‘I’d like to go on one like that,’ she said, as an impressive pleasure cruiser slipped by, leaving a wide V-shaped wave behind it.

‘We’ll see what we can do. You and mummy can decide which boat you want to go on.’

They continued on down the path next to the river and as it wound away to the right, they parted with the water’s edge, crossing a road that ran alongside it. Nathan hoped they were heading towards the town centre, but he wasn’t convinced this was the right way. He’d forgotten to bring a map with him, but he wasn’t concerned. He knew they could jump in a taxi at any point and head back to the hotel if necessary.

‘Look, daddy, there’s a park over there. And it’s got a great big slide in it. Can we go in daddy? Please!’ Francesca was hopping up and down and she started to pull him towards the gate which led into the park.

‘Yes of course we can. Let’s go and have some fun in the park.’

It turned out to be a really bad idea.

26

Nathan sat down on a bench and smiled to himself as his daughter ran off to play on the slide. Before long she was making new friends despite the language barrier. No one could ever accuse Francesca of lacking in self-confidence; she was one of those children who would talk to anyone at any time.  And in his opinion that was no bad thing.

He closed his eyes as the late afternoon sun began to sink towards the horizon. Not exactly warm, but certainly not cold, he felt himself relax to the cheerful sound of children enjoying themselves. He wondered what his wife was doing. No doubt she was in some high-powered meeting or other, planning the latest marketing strategies.

A sudden scream caused him to open his eyes in alarm. He saw that a boy had fallen over and a pang of guilt accompanied the relief that he felt at seeing his own daughter happily climbing back up the steps to the slide. The boy’s mother was already dashing over to provide the necessary reassurance. He closed his eyes again with contentment.

‘Weet u misschien hoe laat het is?’ A large man appeared in front of him, dressed in a long black coat with a scarf pulled up over the bottom half of his face. Nathan was sure he had asked for the time, but certainly wasn’t well enough versed in Dutch to reply.

‘I’m sorry I’m English,’ said Nathan. ‘Do you speak English?’

The man seemed taken aback at his reply. He turned away and stared across at the busy play area as if he was looking for someone, then turned back to Nathan.

‘You’re from England?’ He sounded English himself, and he had what Nathan recognised as a northern accent. He loomed over Nathan, who was still sat on the low wooden bench. Nathan didn’t really want to chat but he also wasn’t the type to be unnecessarily rude. The bright red of his daughter’s coat flashed into view and then disappeared behind the frame of the man standing before him.

‘Yeah, London. What about you?’

‘Oh you know, up north, as they say. I don’t suppose you’re overly familiar with that part of the country.’

‘No, I have to admit, I’ve never really ventured up there. I’ve been to north Wales though. Beautiful place.’ Nathan shuffled along the bench in order to get a better view of the play area. Francesca had moved to the swings which were beyond the slide, but he could still see her red coat darting around in the distance, despite the busy scene before him.

‘I’ve never had much time for the place myself, to be honest.’ The man stepped across in front of Nathan again. ‘You here on holiday?’

Beginning to feel the first spikes of irritation, Nathan wanted to cut the conversation short. ‘Sort of. Anyway, I should be getting on, so if you’ll excuse me.’ He stood up to leave, but the man persevered.

‘I don’t suppose you know of any decent hotels around here do you?’

‘I don’t I’m afraid. This is my first time here for many years. I’m sure you’ll be able to find one back up towards the river. I think there are a few overlooking the water.’

‘Sounds perfect, thanks.’ The man checked his watch, looked around and then hurried off towards the park gate. Only then it occurred to Nathan that the man was wearing a watch. He’d started the conversation by asking the time. Something didn’t feel quite right and his first instinct was to check on his daughter. Not for the first time he was thankful for the bright red coat they’d bought her at the beginning of the winter. The splash of colour moved back and forth as she enjoyed the swings.

Nathan began to stroll over towards the climbing frame. The sun was just beginning to touch the skyline and it was time to make their way back to the hotel to meet up with his wife for dinner. Now he just needed to persuade Francesca to get off the swings.

As soon as he passed the slide the doubts began to surface in his mind. Francesca looked different somehow. She was sat facing away from him, pulling on the chains as she swung higher, blonde hair blowing in the wind, bright red coat glowing like a beacon.

But the hair was longer and the coat was cheap.

My God, it’s not her.

The realisation struck him in an instant. This girl with blonde hair and a red coat that he’d been watching so carefully wasn’t Francesca. The panic was intense and immediate. His heart pounded and the pressure in his head was already clouding his thoughts.

‘Francesca!’ he shouted, and then again as loudly as he could. People stopped and stared at him; children looked at their parents with uncertainty.

‘Francesca! Where are you?’

Desperation took hold so quickly. He knew she wasn’t here. There was nowhere to hide; only the slide and swings stood in the playground. An expanse of grass surrounded that and railings enclosed the whole space.

She must be here. There’s no way out.

Then he noticed another small gate in the metal fence and his heart sank to depths he didn’t know existed.

27

Chloe was relieved to see the lights of home welcoming her as she closed the garden gate and made her way up to the cottage door. It had been another trying day and she really hoped things would settle down soon. The smell of fish and chips hit her as she entered the hallway and began to remove her heavy winter coat.

‘Dad, you really are spoiling me. I’m still trying to shift these extra Christmas pounds you know.’ She said the words loudly without knowing where her father was exactly, but knowing that he would hear her wherever he was in the compact, cosy cottage.

‘Don’t be daft; you haven’t got a spare ounce on you.’ He appeared at the kitchen door. Come on, it was a real effort fetching these with this leg of mine playing up. And yes, before you say anything, I did call the doctor today. I’m seeing her next week.’

‘Good, glad to hear it. Right, you sit down and I’ll get some plates and a couple of drinks.’

She had to admit that it was a good idea as she tucked into the meal. It was a treat for both of them as they hardly ever had takeaway food, and it was all the more tasty because of it.

‘Any better today?’ asked her father.

‘Worse,’ she sighed. ‘Don’t ask. It’s nothing to worry about.’

But he did worry about her. They ate in silence for a minute or two before he spoke again.

‘You know you don’t have to stay there if you really don’t like it. The most important thing is that you’re happy. You can always find somewhere else, somewhere more like the old place.’

‘I know dad, but I can’t just jack it in after two days. Anyway, it’s not that bad. I’ve just got a few tricky matters to deal with and no doubt some misunderstandings along the way. Really, dad, I’m fine.’

‘Well if you say so.’ Her father knew to drop it then. His daughter had worked hard to get this far and her career was important to her. There was only so much he could say to influence her. ‘Any plans for tonight?’

She grinned at him. ‘Actually I have. I’m going to the theatre.’

‘Oh yeah, anyone I know?’

‘No, just a friend from work. I won’t be late.’

‘You go and enjoy yourself. You’ve earned it and you probably need it. Let your hair down a little.’

‘It’s just the theatre, dad.’

‘I know, but try to relax and enjoy it. It’s no good for you all this stress, even at your age.’

‘I’ll be fine. I’d better go and get ready. Thanks for the fish and chips.’

Chloe skipped off upstairs and her father carried the plates over to the sink. He longed to see his daughter happy and the move she had made to this new firm worried him. It sounded to him like she was working with a bunch of arrogant, self-centred idiots. He wondered if all civilian jobs were like that. In the army he had worked with people who would probably give their own lives to save his, people with whom he had shared everything and anything; true comradery and he missed it. He placed the clean plates on the side board to dry, and then winced as the angry pain in his leg fired again.

A car hooted outside.

‘Chloe love, is that for you?’ he called.

28

Nathan sat in the police station interview room, head in hands. He felt helpless. Hollow. He’d left the park and searched the nearby roads and shops, calling his daughter’s name. After an hour or so a police car had pulled up and offered assistance. Someone must have called them. He collapsed into the car, relieved that help had arrived, but also distraught that he had to stop searching and accompany them to the police station. They assured him that they were doing everything they could to find Francesca, but isn’t that what they always said? He felt so useless sat here when he should be out looking.

‘Mr Whitehurst, can we just go through this one more time please?’ The officer spoke very good English, albeit with a heavy Dutch accent.

‘Yes, but why aren’t you out looking for her?’

‘We are, Mr Whitehurst, we are, but it is important that we know all the facts. I have officers searching the streets all around the area, but we need to know as much as possible about what happened and what you saw.’

Nathan ran his hands over his face and back through his thinning hair. ‘She was playing on the slide, and then I got talking to this guy who wanted to know about hotels or something. I was sure I could see Francesca playing, but when I approached her it wasn’t her. And that’s when I realised…’

His voice broke and the police officer reached over and refilled his glass with water from a jug.

‘I know it’s hard Mr Whitehurst. This man, what did he look like?’

‘He was big, really big, but not fat. Tall and thick-set, and he was wearing a long black coat.’

‘Leather?’

‘No, more like a raincoat I think.’

‘And his face?’

‘I don’t recall. He was standing over me and I think his scarf was covering some of it, and to be honest I was too busy looking at Francesca to pay much attention to him.’

The police officer picked up the telephone on the desk and spoke quickly in Dutch. He replaced the receiver and looked at Nathan.

‘Okay Mr Whitehurst. My officers have the description and they are looking out for him as we speak. We’ll find your daughter sir, I promise.’

But Nathan wasn’t reassured by the words. It was obvious that the police thought she had been abducted. Had he really been the victim of a targeted operation? Was the big man deliberately distracting him whilst someone else snatched her?

Where is she? What’s happening to her?

But he knew he had to stay focused and not think about such things for Francesca’s sake as well as his own. The thoughts trying to force their way into his mind would only send him over the edge. The stress that had flooded his body was overwhelming and he prayed he would wake up from this nightmare and that his daughter would be safely back by his side.

The interview room door was flung open and his wife staggered in, her eyes surrounded by streaks of make-up. He stood up and took hold of her as she fell into his arms.

‘I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.’ It was all he could say. His wife didn’t reply, and her body racked as she sobbed into his chest.

29

‘What time is it?’ called Chloe from the top of the stairs.

‘Ten to seven,’ replied her father.

‘Bloody hell he’s early. Hang on, I’ll be down in a minute.’

Her father opened the front door and could immediately see why his daughter had agreed to go out with the man standing before him. He had an engaging smile that reminded him of a Hollywood movie star, his dark hair neatly parted to one side and a complexion so clear that he might just have come from a session with a makeup artist. He realised he was staring.

‘I’m sorry, hello, you’ve come for Chloe of course. She won’t be long. I’m her father, Jack.’

‘Ben. I’m pleased to meet you. You have a lovely home. It’s beautiful round here isn’t it?’

‘Yeah it’s quiet; we certainly like it. Won’t you come in? I’m sure she’ll be down…’

‘Hi Ben.’ Chloe came thundering down the stairs. ‘Sorry to keep you waiting, the time just flew by.’

‘Not a problem, I’m a few minutes early I think. I was just saying to your father how lovely it is around here.’

‘Yes, right, well, shall we make a move? It starts at half past doesn’t it?’ Chloe felt like an awkward fourteen year old, standing there between her father and her date.

My date? Is that what he is?

‘Yes, we’d better get going. Nice to meet you Jack.’

‘And you Ben. Look after her for me won’t you?’ He couldn’t help himself. He’d looked after her all his life and there was nothing he could do to stop the protective instinct from surfacing.

‘Don’t worry, you can count on me sir.’

Chloe followed Ben down to the car and he opened the door for her. She glanced back at her father who gave her a discreet thumbs-up. She rolled her eyes at him and then turned and sank into the warm leather seat of Ben’s BMW, waving to her father as the car pulled away into the night.

‘Sorry about that,’ she said.

‘Oh it’s my fault. As I say, I was a little early. The traffic was much lighter than I thought it would be.’

‘No, I mean about my dad. I really should find a place of my own. He’s always nagging me to get somewhere. It’s a bit embarrassing me still living at home at twenty four.’

‘I think it’s rather sweet. He’s clearly very fond of you. But then why wouldn’t he be, he’s your father after all?’

Chloe laughed. She looked out into the night as they made the journey into Sheffield through open countryside. There was still a stubborn mist which, together with the dark sky, meant there wasn’t much to appreciate out there.

‘So, tell me something about Ben.’

‘Well, there isn’t much to tell really. I’m your typical twenty seven year old lawyer. Trained and bred by Anderson, Gormley and Drake.’

‘I was thinking more of the real Ben; the person not the lawyer.’

‘Ah, I see. Well, I like going to the theatre…’

‘Well, duh, obviously.’

‘Ha, yes. You could have guessed that. Oh I don’t know, I like going out and socialising, the usual twenty-something stuff. What about you?’

‘Yeah, the same kind of things I suppose. You have a nice car.’

‘Thanks, my pride and joy.’

The drive into Sheffield was trouble free and they chatted effortlessly about their families and previous holidays and experiences. He was definitely easy to talk to and Chloe felt very comfortable in his presence. Ben parked up on a side street about a five minute walk away from the Crucible Theatre. Rain was beginning to fall as they climbed out of the car and Ben instantly appeared next to her with a huge golfing umbrella.

‘Why thank you kind sir!’

‘It’s a pleasure, my lady.’

She linked his arm and they walked slowly through the town. People hurried around them in the rain, but Chloe was enjoying the walk too much to be tempted to rush.

‘What do you think of Ray?’ she asked. It was the first time either of them had mentioned work.

‘Oh he’s okay, really. Certainly looks after his clients well. Has a reputation for it and they seem to be very loyal to him.’

‘I don’t like him. He lacks people skills.’

He laughed. ‘I know what you mean, but as I say, he gets the job done and is well respected for it. Maybe you just need to give him a chance. Maybe try doing as he asks?’ He raised his voice as if it were a question. Chloe didn’t know quite what to make of this last comment, but she didn’t want to spoil what had been an enjoyable evening so far, so she changed the subject.

‘I can see the lights of the theatre, we’re nearly there. Have you seen this play before?’

‘No, I just liked the look of it to be honest. You never really know with comedies, they can be a bit hit and miss, so let’s hope it’s funny.’

‘Well even if it’s not, I’m having a good time,’ said Chloe, coyly.

She looked across and he smiled back at her.

‘Me too.’

30

Nathan sat clutching his wife’s hand. The clock on the wall taunted him that it was five thirty in the morning, more than twelve hours since Francesca had disappeared. There was no chance of either of them sleeping, and he wondered if they would ever be able to sleep peacefully again.

Of course we will. They’ll find her. They have to find her.

His wife rested her head on his shoulder. They were both exhausted but despite the insistence of the police to go back to the hotel, they couldn’t face leaving without their daughter. They longed for news, a development, a glimmer of hope - something, anything to cling on to.

The officer came back into the room and sat down opposite them.

‘I think we have something…’

‘You’ve found her?’ They both said it at the same time, and it might even have been funny in different circumstances.

‘I’m afraid not. But we do have a possible sighting.’

‘Where? Can we come with you?’ Nathan wasn’t even thinking as he spoke, it was just a reaction.

The officer raised his hands as if to try to calm them.

‘Please, Mr Whitehurst, let me explain. It’s not as straightforward as that. I wish it was, believe me, but we have to follow procedures. Now listen, we have received a call from Humberside police in England. Someone called them from the ferry terminal. They saw a young girl with two men and thought she looked out of place. Now don’t worry when I say this but it seems she was distressed. I’m sorry Mrs Whitehurst, I know this is difficult. Here, have another tissue. Now, the person was suspicious enough to get a closer look and decided in the end to call the police. They contacted us to see if we had any reports of missing children.’

‘She’s in England?’ Nathan felt a strange sense of comfort in thinking his daughter was back in her home country. This was the something they’d been waiting for. Not the happy ending yet, but definitely progress.

‘She might be, yes. We fully briefed the English police, obviously. The ferry docked at Hull about an hour ago. Do you know Hull?’

‘I’ve heard of it, yes, but I’ve never been there. It’s up on the north east coast somewhere I think.’ Nathan squeezed his wife’s hand even tighter.

‘That’s right. Now, the caller said he saw a girl with blonde hair wearing a red coat, and as I say, he thought she looked distressed. I know this is not the end of it Mr Whitehurst, but if it was her, this is good news, believe me.’

Nathan nodded. ‘Did the caller say anything else?’

‘He said the girl walked off the boat with two men. He tried to follow them but apparently lost them in the crowds.’ The police officer was reading the words from a piece of paper in front of him. ‘It doesn’t seem that he said anything else and unfortunately he didn’t leave his name or contact details. Oh, wait a minute, there is one other thing. Apparently he said the girl had remarkable eyes.’

‘That’s her!’

31

Thankfully, the rest of her first week passed without incident and Chloe was beginning to feel like she was part of the team. She assisted Drake with a few matters and he seemed to be quite impressed with her. She discovered that he had a daughter around the same age as her and that had at least given her something in common with him; they had shared the odd joke or two about ‘today’s youngsters’ and how he couldn’t keep up with them.

She’d also made more of an effort with Ray and became used to looking beyond his rather pitiful manners to the lawyer that Ben had claimed he was. And she had to agree, Ray was actually quite an impressive solicitor, often going out of his way to help his clients and ensure they were pleased with his work. Perhaps she had misjudged him, although she wondered if he knew where to draw the line in terms of carrying out his clients’ instructions to the letter.

She hadn’t seen a great deal of Ben. They met up for lunch towards the end of the week but it was a rushed affair as they were both so busy. He suggested that they might go out again the following week and they agreed to try to arrange something soon. Chloe didn’t mind. If they were actually dating, and she wasn’t sure that they were, then she was happy to take things slowly. She had appreciated his invitation to the theatre the other night, and although the play was mediocre, they had both enjoyed each other’s company.

Now, after a restful weekend spent doing very little she was ready for the challenges of a new week. She was in early and the office was still quite empty, although she noticed Ray was already at his desk and having an animated conversation with someone. The computer screen in front of her said it was twenty to eight. She assumed he must be speaking to a friend at this time on a Monday morning.

As she had hoped, a quiet couple of hours allowed her to catch up with some outstanding matters. Letters and file notes were all dispatched into the Dictaphone with efficiency and by ten o’clock Chloe was ready for a coffee. Then her mobile phone rang and the screen told her it was Chelsie Swanson.

‘Hello Chelsie. What can I do for you?’ She hoped everything was okay. It soon became apparent that it wasn’t.

‘Mark’s been round again, Chloe, last night, kicking the door and threatening all kinds of things. Why doesn’t he just leave me alone, the bastard?’ Chloe wasn’t sure if it was anger or fear she could hear, maybe a bit of both.

‘Because he knows he’s scaring you. He’s a bully and he should still be locked up for what he did to George. I assume you called the police?’

‘I did, yes, but he’d gone by the time they arrived. Of course, the neighbours saw nothing; they’re all too scared to speak against him.’

‘All right Chelsie, I’ll talk to the police myself but there’s probably not much I can do. George is still at your mum’s isn’t he?’

‘Yeah, he’s safe. I wish I could go and stay with him for a while.’ She sounded beyond miserable.

‘I know, but for now it’s better that you stay at home and leave George at your mum’s. We need to convince the authorities that he’s safe, and they’re likely to agree that he is safe as long as he’s being looked after by his grandmother. Listen Chelsie, thanks for the call, you did the right thing. Call the police if he comes back, and don’t let him in.’

‘I won’t. Thanks Chloe.’

‘I’ll speak to you soon Chelsie.’

Chloe hung up and thought about recent events. She really didn’t like the sound of it, but there was little she could do to speed things along. She reassured herself that George was safe, because he was the most important, the most vulnerable, and the most innocent person in all of this.

32

‘I spy with my little eye something beginning with C.’

‘Car.’

‘Clouds.’

‘You’re both wrong.’ The Timer turned round from the passenger seat and looked at his girls. He winked and they grinned back at him.

‘Crowd.’

‘Clown.’ Both girls broke into fits of laughter.

‘Clown? Where is there a clown Molly? Remember you must be able to see it.’ He slowly held up two Mars Bars in a V shape.

‘Chocolate!’ came the excited reply from the two girls and they each grabbed one of the bars. ‘Thanks daddy!’

‘You both be good for mummy today, okay? Daddy has some work to do, but I’ll see you later.’ He turned to his wife sat in the driver’s seat next to him. ‘Thanks for the lift darling. I won’t be late. Drive carefully.’

‘Bye love.’ She kissed him and watched him get out and walk off into the crowded Monday morning streets of Sheffield city centre. She didn’t really know what he did for a living and was happy to keep it that way. He’d told her right from the start that he would never have an ordinary job, and that she would never know the details of what he did, but also that it would never affect her or the children in any way. And to be fair, in the ten years they’d been married it never had. She told herself that he was probably some bigwig with a sensitive role in the city, or something to do with the security forces, a spy perhaps. But in her heart she knew that wasn’t the case. Whatever it was, it paid well; she and the girls had never wanted for anything. The house, the cars, the holidays, they had it all. And most importantly, he was a great father to his daughters, not just in terms of materialistic things, but because he gave them the most important thing that any father can give to their children. His time.

The car pulled away and she looked around at all the people going about their daily routines - ordinary, plain, boring people with ordinary plain boring lives.

How she envied them.

33

‘Chloe Webster speaking.’

‘Hello Miss Webster, it’s Gloria. I have Mr Crawford down here. I’ve put him in meeting room two.’

‘Thank you Gloria, I’ll be right down.’

Although she hung up without another word, progress was slowly being made. Chloe had been making an effort to stop and say hello to Gloria now and again and it seemed that the ice was melting. She was at least civil to her now, and she knew that was more than some people had achieved despite having been at the firm for much longer than Chloe.

She gathered her papers on the Crawford file and began to make her way across the office to the stairs.

‘Mr Crawford is it?’ It was Ray, standing by the coffee machine with a smug grin on his face. ‘Be good to him please.’

I’d love to slap that stupid face of yours, she thought. She just couldn’t help it. He still wound her up so easily and she hated herself for letting him do it. She took a breath and controlled her irritation.

‘I will, don’t worry, Ray. I know he’s important to you.’ Chloe continued off through the door before she said anything she regretted.

‘Good girl.’

She heard it and almost snapped back a riposte but thought better of it. She headed off down the stairs and approached meeting room two, smiling across to Gloria as she went. She was sure she saw a half-smile before the receptionist looked away.

‘Ah Miss Webster, how nice to see you again.’ The Timer knew he had won this battle before it even started. Chloe knew it too. She had made her point, presented her case to everyone she could think of, and yet no one seemed to agree that there was anything wrong with what was happening here. Or at least, no one was prepared to take a stance. The bag was already on the table, glaring at her, taunting her with its presence. She was in no mood for pleasantries, and made sure that her client was aware of the fact.

‘One hundred thousand pounds wasn’t it?’ she said abruptly.

‘Yes, that’s correct. If you could just pop that into your firm’s client account and I’ll get further instructions to you as soon as I can. Everything is going smoothly I take it?’

Chloe had received a sale contract for the warehouse from the seller’s solicitor together with relevant information about the property. She was in the process of checking it all through, still a little disappointed to be doing property work when she was now a qualified family lawyer. Still, work was work and it kept her hand in at least.

‘Yes, so far so good.’ Polite, but not at all friendly.

‘Good, good. And I’m glad we’ve resolved our little differences about how to proceed in this matter. It’s important for me to have a lawyer who understands how I work.’

Chloe looked at him. The Timer still liked her. She had a determination and a fight in her that he hoped his own daughters would have. The feeling wasn’t mutual and Chloe ignored his comments.

‘Well if there’s nothing else?’ asked Chloe.

‘No, just the money.’

‘Right, in that case, I’ll say goodbye. Can you find your own way out?’ She couldn’t believe she’d just said that to a client. The Timer grinned back at her, impressed.

‘I can find anything if I put my mind to it.’

He got up and left the room. Chloe peeked inside the bag. Her heart began to race again at the sight of the banknotes bundled into neat blocks. For a moment she imagined herself taking the bag and walking out of the office, straight to the nearest airport and away on an aeroplane to who knows where? How different life could be with a little money in the bank.

She closed the bag and hurried off back to her desk.

34

‘PC Hutchings,’ said a female voice, a little wearily.

‘Yes, hello, my name’s Chloe Webster. I’m a solicitor at Anderson Gormley and Drake and I’m acting for a Miss Chelsie Swanson. Her son George has been abused by Chelsie’s ex-boyfriend and I understand that you let him out on bail last week…’

‘Well, the court did actually,’ interrupted the policewoman, ‘but yes, you’re right. Has there been a problem?’ She was very matter of fact, no doubt angered by the not-very-well-hidden accusation.

‘Yes, there has. He’s still bothering my client. Is there really nothing you can do about him or do I have to get a court order? I’m really concerned that he’ll hurt her if he gets the chance. You know he’s been round there don’t you, kicking off in the middle of the night?’ Chloe was already speaking louder than she had meant to.

‘Oh I think Miss Swanson can look after herself. You must have met her, she’s no shrinking violet. She might be small, but I wouldn’t want to come face to face with her in a dark alley.’ PC Hutchings was calm, almost jovial, and to Chloe that translated as uncaring. She knew she was being unfair but she had seen this situation many times before and it rarely ended well.

‘Can someone at least go round and have a word with him. One of his bail conditions is to stay away from my client.’

‘Our problem is that it’s her word against his.’

‘And you believe him…’ Chloe was trying hard to control her anger.

‘The trouble is, no one is prepared to speak against him. None of Miss Swanson’s neighbours will talk to us. It’s the same old story. Miss Webster, you know how these domestic situations are. It doesn’t take much to ignite things and before you know it accusations are flying everywhere. It’s always difficult to determine who is telling the truth. My understanding is that the child is safe. As I say, I’m sure Miss Swanson can take good care of herself.’

Chloe knew she wasn’t going to get anywhere here. She had some sympathy with the police; domestic disputes were always problematic and evidence was hard to come by. She was about to end the call but changed her mind.

‘Whilst you’re on…’ Chloe paused. She thought about Crawford and the money. ‘Forget it, it’s nothing.’

‘Is there something else you want to say Miss Webster?’

‘No, it’s fine. Thanks for your time.’ She hung up and breathed a sigh. Things were getting a little on top of her and she felt like she had nowhere to turn. Drake, Ray, Crawford, Chelsie, the police, the local authority. Perhaps she could talk to Ben and see what he thought, at least in relation to Chelsie’s case. She already knew what he thought about Crawford – he didn’t seem to think there was a problem, as long as Ray approved it, which he did. She went to find Ben, who was seemingly busy dictating a letter at his desk.

‘Hi Ben, can I talk to you at some point about a case I’m working on?’ She spoke quietly, not really wanting the whole office to know that she was seeking his advice.

‘Sure, fire away,’ he said loudly, and sat back in his chair, locking his hands behind his head.

‘Not here. I mean perhaps we could go for a drink after work sometime so I can run it past you?’

‘Now that’s not a very romantic way of asking me out is it?’ He looked around as he said it, clearly impressed with himself. She blushed as one or two other people in the office turned to listen.

‘Yeah sure,’ he continued, ‘later in the week if that’s okay? I’ve got plans tonight. And tomorrow in fact.’ She was sure he flashed a wink over the privacy partition to the girl sitting opposite him.

‘Yes, well, whenever. Thanks Ben.’ She walked away a little too quickly, puzzled and hurt by his response, catching her thigh on the corner of a desk and then pretending not to have noticed. She returned to her own desk and stared at the computer screen whose screensaver displayed a colourful set of interlocking pipes. She rubbed her thigh which would no doubt erupt into a very attractive bruise before too long. She hadn’t felt so humiliated since she was at school.

Yeah, later in the week would be lovely, as long as I don’t have any sodding plans. Bastard.

35

‘Hi T, it’s Jez.’ The Timer didn’t like unannounced calls, especially when he was at home. He glanced across at his wife, who smiled back from the other side of the spacious lounge, mouthed an apology and left the room. He checked his watch. 19:20. This was family time.

‘I’ve told you before not to call me out of the blue. What do you want?’ His voice was hushed but angry. He had no qualms about letting these guys know when he was unhappy.

‘Yeah, sorry mate, you know I wouldn’t call unless it was urgent. There’s a package coming from Hull as we speak and I need you to collect it. It was all done on a need to know basis to be honest so I couldn’t let you in on it any sooner.’

‘Hull?’ The Timer was immediately on edge. It had always been Liverpool. ‘Why Hull?’

‘Yeah, yeah, don’t worry, it’s the same operation. Just find the truck and get the goods out the back. I’ll text you the plate.’ Silence. The Timer waited. ‘There is one small complication. The package is a little, shall we say, bigger than normal, so make sure you’ve got a decent set of wheels. You’ll probably want a boot, you know, a saloon. Something you can hide the goods in. At least it’ll be nice and dark out there so you’ll have plenty of cover.’

This was doing nothing to quell the uneasiness that the Timer was feeling. He appreciated the regularity of the work he received from Drabble, and he was well paid for it, but he didn’t like risk or uncertainty.

‘Is there something you’re not telling me Jez?’ he said at last.

‘Don’t be daft, T, you’ll be fine. Same old routine.’

‘How about a little extra to compensate for my nerves?’

Jez laughed. ‘I’ve never seen you nervous about anything. Go on then, how about an extra ten per cent to calm you down.’

‘Thirty, or you find someone else.’ He didn’t like this one bit, and Jez was being overly friendly and confident about the whole thing, which just added to his doubts.

‘Christ T, Drabble will have my balls off. Twenty per cent is the most I can do.’

‘Done. Text me the plate. M62, I assume?’

‘Yeah. Nice one.’

The Timer hung up. Six grand for a night’s work, not too shabby at all.

‘Everything all right dear?’ asked his wife as he poked his head round the door of the lounge.

‘Yeah, it’s all good. I need to go out for a while, but I should be back by midnight. Don’t worry about me, just get yourself off to bed. I’ll see you later. Say goodnight to the girls for me.’

He collected his usual equipment and made his way up to the main road to catch a bus towards town. He needed a car but he would never consider taking one from near where he lived.

Don’t shit where you eat, his father had always told him.

36

Chloe stood looking out over the garden as she tidied the kitchen after their evening meal. The dark night and the bright kitchen light meant that she could only see vague outlines of the small, neat garden beyond her own reflection. She was finding it difficult to clear her mind of all the things that had happened at work, something she never used to have a problem with. She knew that her chosen career would always include a substantial amount of stress, and the best coping mechanism was to try to forget about it all when she wasn’t there, but for some reason she couldn’t seem to do that. It was probably the fact that she was in a new job, coupled with the rather testing matters she had been dealing with. But she knew one thing – she didn’t like it at all. The pressure and the strain nagged at her consistently, undermining her self-confidence and making her doubt her next move.

‘Penny for your thoughts?’ enquired her father, who was still sitting at the kitchen table.

‘Oh, I’ve got a lot on my mind at the moment. Work stuff, you know? I just can’t shift it. Underlying stress I guess they’d call it. I’d call it bloody annoying.’

‘Why don’t you have a glass of wine? That’ll help you to relax I’m sure.’ Her father smiled at her. ‘Works for me every time.’

‘That’s not a bad idea, dad.’ She pulled a bottle of white from the fridge and poured them both a large glass. ‘I’m dealing with this case involving a boy who’s been separated from his mother and it’s really not her fault. I’m sure she’ll get him back soon, but it’s making me think about mum. Sometimes I really miss her you know dad? I mean, I miss her all the time of course, but sometimes I really miss her. I think I’ll go up to the grave at the weekend and tidy it up; it’s bound to be a bit messy after the winter we’ve had. I’ll get some fresh flowers and tell her about my new job.’

‘Okay love. I’ll try to get up there myself soon but it’s not easy with this useless leg of mine.’

‘I know dad. I don’t suppose you need to be there to think about her, but it makes me feel close to her.’ She took a large mouthful of wine and the instant hit certainly seemed to do the trick. She immediately took another.

‘Whatever makes you feel better, love. So when will this boy get back to his mum then?’

‘Well hopefully very soon. I have a meeting with the local authority in a few days and I’m going to try to persuade them to let him come home. He’s at his grandma’s house, so it’s not the end of the world, but I bet he misses his mum. Or he will do if he doesn’t get back to her soon. Her ex-boyfriend will hopefully be behind bars shortly, so that should help. It’s a mess to be honest.’

‘Well there’s nothing you can do from here, so why don’t you try to relax and forget about it for a while. It’ll do you good in the long run.’

‘Thanks dad. This is why I don’t want to move out you see? I need our little chats to keep me sane. And a drinking buddy of course.’

‘You know this will always be your home. Now then, pour me another glass of that wine, it’s going down really well. Probably too well - I might need another bottle at this rate.’

They both laughed.

And as the two of them enjoyed each other’s company and their relationship continued to grow, many miles away a desperate father sat with his head in his hands. Nathan prayed for the safe return of his own child. His wife was beyond emotion, physically incapable of shedding any more tears, and was now a shell, unable to live the life of a high-powered marketing executive that she had been living so successfully only days before. His own life had fallen apart too, blown to pieces by the events in Amsterdam the week before. There had been no news about Francesca from the police since the sighting in Hull. Thoughts drifted into his head of what they would do if Francesca was never found. What would it do to them? How would they cope? Would they cope? He shut them out as best he could.

She will be found. She has to be found.

37

It was still well before eight, but the dark evening ensured that very few people were out and about. Of course, it wasn’t people he wanted, it was cars, and cars lined every road, covered every driveway, and were hiding in every garage. The Timer felt like a child in a sweetshop, and he took his time, savouring the moment as he browsed the selection. This was an affluent neighbourhood and a wide variety of top of the range models littered the tree-lined streets. He needed to be careful, though, and couldn’t risk an alarm going off at this time; people would appear very quickly if that happened. He needed keys, and over the years he’d developed many ways of getting hold of them.

He sauntered along the edge of the road beneath the streetlights, looking for an opportunity, passing huge houses which loomed up over gates and hedges as he passed. He could probably have chosen a more accessible area but he did like a nice car. The properties here were large with tight security. Gates were high, hedges were thick and most cars were tucked away safely in garages or protected by lights and on-board security systems. He kept moving in the February night air, not least to fend off the encroaching cold. Passing the odd car parked out on the road he tried their doors to see if anything had been left open for him. The occasional house was obviously empty and he made his way up the driveways, turning back the moment a security light blazed down from above.

As he continued his search, the houses became noticeably smaller and less grand, and therefore generally less secure. He started to think he might have some success in this area. Still he tried car doors but nothing was giving tonight, despite his perseverance.

Come on someone, I only want to borrow it.

A car drifted past and pulled into the side of the road some way in front of him, at the end of a row of parked cars. A woman climbed out gingerly and headed back towards him on the pavement. As she approached he could see that she was limping quite heavily, and it was seemingly a real effort for her to move. She wasn’t a young woman, and was well wrapped in a thick winter coat, her hat pulled down against the hard cold of the night. The Timer moved his hand across his forehead as they passed so as to obscure his face, not that there was much chance of her recognising him later; it was dark, and he was passed her in a flash. But he noticed her, and in particular he noticed the letter she was carrying. She’d left her car engine running and he knew this was his opportunity.

It wouldn’t have been his first choice, an ageing Volkswagen Golf, in a nondescript dark colour with noticeable dents in the rear panel. Nothing glamorous about that, but it would be reliable, and fairly comfortable no doubt. Something Jez had said to him came back into his head – you’ll probably want a boot, you know a saloon. Well he’d found a hatchback, and that would have to do. Why would he need a boot? If it was about the size of the shipment, then surely a hatchback would be more suitable. Besides, he’d spent enough time out here in the cold and with the car’s engine running it would at least be warm. He certainly wasn’t going to come across an easier opportunity. In fact, he couldn’t really think of a more inviting scenario than this one.

He settled into the driver’s seat and looked in the mirror, closing the door gently next to him.

Poor old dear, she’s not even reached the post box yet.

A slight pang of guilt nagged at him as the woman staggered up to the bright red structure and leaned on it while she caught her breath. She slid the letter inside and waited there, no doubt preparing herself for the walk back to the car. The Timer decided not to wait around to see her take in the realisation of what was happening, and he pushed the accelerator hard against the floor. A few wheel spins later he was on his way.

He’d been lucky there, but his timing, as ever, was immaculate. 20:05. He had plenty of time to get to the M62 motorway and find that truck.

38

The drive out of Sheffield was relaxing, helped by the calm classical music which gently filled the car, and drowned out the monotonous sound of the engine. The roads were clear now, the great rush home from work having finished a couple of hours ago for most people. He thought about the job in hand. It would certainly not be easy to pick a truck’s number plate out of the darkness on the other side of a motorway, especially when moving at speed in the opposite direction. There must be a more effective way of doing it.

He let the music fill his mind as he planned his approach. This part of the motorway network was familiar to him and he knew there must be a better way. He considered the police car speed checkpoints along the edge of the motorway. He could park up on one of the ramps and wait for the truck to come past. But he discounted that idea quickly; he’d have some explaining to do if the police caught him on one of those checkpoints. They may even be covered by cameras.

Then it came to him. He would find a junction with a roundabout above the motorway and park up there. That would give him a clear view down onto the road and he would be able to check the lorries as they went by. There shouldn’t be too many at this time of night in any case.

He soon came to the end of the M18 and pulled onto the M62 towards Hull. The traffic was even lighter now, and a few junctions later he found what he was looking for. Pulling the car up the slip road and onto the roundabout he stopped over the motorway, facing the traffic coming from Hull and turned off the engine. Having reminded himself of the number plate he was looking for, he sat back and looked down at the road below. A car sped by and he could just make out the plate. Not clearly, but it was certainly visible and he hoped that the plates on the slower moving trucks would be more obvious.

A pair of headlights approached in the distance as his mobile rang. He checked the screen; it was unusual for him to get calls from home when he was working.

‘Hello darling. Everything okay?’

‘Hello daddy. Get off, Molly, I’m talking to daddy… hello daddy, where are you? Molly, get off…’

The distant lights continued their approach and as they came closer he could see it was a large truck.

‘Oh hello Daisy, I thought it was mummy. Have you borrowed mummy’s phone again? Is she there?’

‘Daddy, daddy, daddy.’

The truck thundered under the bridge but not before he’d managed to confirm that it wasn’t the truck he was after.

‘Hello little Molly. Are you being a good girl?’

‘Yes daddy. Bye bye daddy…’ A thud down the line followed by a brief silence told him she had dropped the phone.

More headlights appeared over the horizon.

‘…the phone to me, Molly. Thank you. Now let me talk to daddy. Are you coming home soon daddy? We’re going to bed now.’

‘Yes Daisy, I won’t be long I promise, but you’ll be asleep by the time I get home. I’ll come and give you a kiss when I get there. Night night.’

This time it was a line of three vehicles at least.

‘Night night daddy.’

‘Sorry about that love. They’re missing you and I knew you wouldn’t answer if it was a problem.’ His wife’s voice relaxed him further.

‘That’s okay. Give them both a cuddle for me. I’ll be home by twelve.’

He hung up and breathed deeply. He loved to be there at bedtime and they loved their stories from daddy. It was precious time, time spent in a very different world to the one he worked in on jobs like this.

It’s all a means to an end, he told himself. Just keep the money coming in for a while longer and then leave it all behind you.

The line of vehicles approached the bridge which held the roundabout he was parked on. The first was a large box-van but not the vehicle he was looking for. It was followed by a car which seemed happy to trundle along between the bigger vehicles, and then came a truck. Bingo. The plate matched, time to get to work.

39

‘Get in there! What’s that now? It must be over thirty.’ As scruffy as ever, Mickey punched the air in jubilation, the pitch of his voice reaching new heights with the excitement. ‘I can’t remember the last time I knocked in a break of thirty.’

He wasn’t a great player, but working at the snooker club meant he wasted many an hour on the tables, so he had learned to string a decent score together from time to time.

‘It’s thirty two Mickey. And that last red is on too. You should be able to get a few more here.’ Jez was the better player but he found less time for it these days, only managing to sneak the odd game when Drabble was out.

Mickey aimed his cue carefully and struck the white ball towards the final red ball.

‘Oh shit, too bloody nervous me, I tell you. I need some of them beta blockers like the pros have, you know, to keep me calm.’

‘Don’t be such a wanker Mickey. You just need to relax a bit more.’ Jez looked round as the door to the club opened and Drabble came striding in, heading for the bar.

‘Jez, I need a word. In the office,’ he shouted as he disappeared through the thick wooden door behind the bar.

‘I’ve gotta go Mickey. You keep practising yeah? You’re definitely not as useless as you were.’

Jez hurried down the centre of the snooker hall towards the bar. Drabble looked in no mood to be kept waiting. He knocked once and entered. Drabble was stood with his back to the door, looking at a large framed photograph on the wall. It was a picture of himself smiling next to a couple of ex-professional snooker players, taken in the club some years ago.

‘I have another task for our Timer friend.’

‘He’s out on a job as we speak, that one up near Hull.’

Drabble turned to face Jez. ‘I know he is, and it’s a very important one too. I hope you briefed him properly? I don’t want any fuck-ups with this. You know it’s the first of a new line we’re getting into, right? The Kirklands won’t want any problems, and nor do I.’

‘Yeah I know boss. Don’t worry, it’ll be fine, he’s never let us down before.’ Jez began to feel hot.

‘Oh I’m not worried, Jez, I’m not worried at all. I know I can trust you.’ He didn’t for one moment divert his stare from Jez. Neither did he change his facial expression, which remained blank.

Jez cleared his throat. He had full confidence in the Timer. He’d known him for years and he was always reliable. But still it was hard not to feel just a little apprehensive with Drabble staring at him in that way. Eventually Drabble broke the silence.

‘This new job, we need to use that solicitor again, the new one. She did what she was told last time didn’t she?’

Jez cleared his throat again. He needed a drink. ‘She did, but it took a couple of visits to persuade her. We had to get some help from inside the firm in the end, you know, just to smooth things along a bit.’

‘She’s not going to be a problem I hope? Not this early on. We can always bung her a few quid if necessary.’ Drabble lit a thick, expensive cigar and took a long drag. The sweet smell instantly filled the room.

‘I think that’s a good idea, boss. Shall I get it sorted?’

‘Yeah, ten grand should do it. And do it soon, we need her on side. Get Mr T to go and see her. We need some systems putting in place for this new line we’re getting into. Let’s call it groundwork. You know what to do.’

‘Yeah, okay. I’ll give him a call tomorrow, once he’s finished what he’s doing now.’

Drabble took another drag on his cigar, eyes still fixed on Jez.

‘Well go on then, go and finish your game with that idiot out there. God knows why I keep him on the payroll, the useless toe-rag.’

‘Ah, Mickey’s all right really.’

‘Jez, he’s a moron. I know it and you know it. He’s only here because I made a daft promise to his mother.’

Jez left the room, closing the door firmly behind him. He leaned back against it and breathed a long sigh of relief.

How long do I have to put up with this shit?

40

Drops of rain began to appear on the glass in front of the Timer as he gunned the Golf down the slip road in pursuit of the truck. He didn’t want to push it too hard as the last thing he wanted was to draw any unwanted attention to himself. But he did need to catch the truck before he lost it. The motorway was still clear and he could just make out a pair of red lights in the distance. Sure that nothing else had come along the motorway as he came round the roundabout and down the slip road, he figured those lights must belong to the truck he was after. He pushed the car into top gear and ramped it up to around eighty. That truck must have been going sixty five tops; it was only a matter of time before he caught it. And at this time of night, he knew the driver would stop somewhere for a rest. Then he’d make his move.

The distant lights gradually eased their way towards him as the rain became heavier on the windscreen. He nudged the radio up a little to drown out the pattering spots on the glass, the car’s wipers wearily bending this way and that, dutifully clearing his view. He was right behind it now, and despite the spray being tossed up by the truck’s wheels, the plate was clear to see. It was definitely a match.

Right mate, come on, you must be getting tired in this weather. Time to take a break.

He glanced at his watch. 21:25. This was taking longer than he’d hoped. He’d been following the truck for some miles now and they’d already passed one set of motorway services without stopping. The Timer cursed. Although he had no time limit here, he didn’t want to be out all night. His instructions were to pick up the drugs and get them to Drabble’s club. No imminent deadline, no rush, no stress. Jez wasn’t expecting him until ten o’clock the next morning. He checked the petrol gauge which confirmed that he had as long as he needed. But all the same, he’d be glad to get it over with and collect his money. He tried to relax and focus on the music but for some reason his mind kept jumping around. Was it something Jez had said on the phone? He couldn’t recall the exact words but he remembered feeling a little edgy about this job. It had always been Liverpool. Had they changed supplier? Were they dealing with east Europeans now? He decided it didn’t really matter to him, as long as the drugs were easily accessible.

It’s simple - get the job done, collect your money, and go home.

He flicked the wiper-speed up a notch as the rain became heavier. But it was as he reached for the radio’s volume control that the blue flashing lights appeared almost directly behind him.

41

Fuck me I wish they wouldn’t do that.

He puffed out a sigh of relief as the ambulance flashed by him and disappeared down the side of the truck in front, a cloud of spray lashing across his windscreen. It must have come off a slip road; he’d been lost in his thoughts and he warned himself to stay focused. Tiredness could kill, but it could also ruin his work, and he couldn’t let that happen.

The truck started to indicate left. Was it coming off the motorway or pulling into a service station? He’d seen a sign some way back advertising the next set of services, but was under the impression that it was a few miles ahead yet. Could they be there already?

It was soon obvious that this was a slip road leading off the motorway. And it wasn’t a major road either. Where on earth was he heading? Perhaps he knew a cheap place to fill up. The Timer had no option but to follow, but he decided to pull back a little way so as not to raise the suspicions of the driver, not that he was likely to have any. He knew from experience that people didn’t expect to be followed and very rarely noticed if they were. But a little caution was never a bad thing in his book, so he touched the brake and opened a gap between himself and the lorry.

He continued to follow the truck, maintaining a steady distance, until it turned off the small local road onto an even narrower country lane. After about half a mile the winding road straightened and ran into a small hamlet. Brake lights came on and the truck stopped outside a small stone-built house. The driver pulled the lorry right up onto the verge in order to avoid blocking the road entirely and the unmistakeable sound of hydraulic brakes filled the air.

What the fuck is he doing?

The Timer slowed to a halt some way down the road and turned off his headlights. After a minute or two the driver’s door opened and a short overweight man who looked to be in his mid-fifties climbed down from the cab. He looked around as he stretched his back, pulled out his phone and keyed what must have been a brief text. The Timer watched as the man made his way down the short path towards the house. Before he reached it the front door opened and a woman appeared in a dressing gown. She looked younger than him, although her thick dark hair meant he couldn’t see for sure. He took her in his arms and they kissed, seemingly confident that no one was watching.

You naughty boy, thought the Timer, and he felt contempt for the man. He didn’t know what was going on here of course, but he imagined the man having a family just like his own, sat waiting for him to come home safely. He would never do such a thing. Family was everything, and trust was the foundation on which all strong families were based.

Eventually the couple seemed to become more aware of the cold, or at least of the fact that they were stood outside on a February night, and they pulled away from each other. The woman kept hold of his hand, led him back into the house and shut the door. After a minute or two a light came on upstairs, and the woman appeared at the window, drawing the curtains across.

The Timer checked his watch. 21:45. An opportunity had presented itself.

42

He knew he had to make sure no one was around before getting out of the car. The quiet country lane was deserted, and as far as the Timer could see there was little reason for anyone to be down here at this time of night. A solitary light shone in the distance but the Timer couldn’t ascertain whether it was coming from another property or whether it was a street light. Behind him the road snaked into the darkness back towards the motorway, lined on both sides with trees and hedges. The scene was now dominated by the huge truck parked on the grass verge in front of the house.

The Timer moved quickly along the edge of the road, keeping low and watching the house for any signs of life. The upstairs light was still visible from behind the curtains, and he suspected that he had plenty of time to find the drugs.

Approaching the truck he could see the trailer was covered with tarpaulin, as he expected. Whoever loaded the drugs onto the truck knew that someone else had to get them off during the truck’s journey. A fully secured metal trailer would make that job much more difficult. An increase in the number of thefts from lorries had resulted in many haulage companies ditching the use of tarpaulin, but there were still plenty to be found.

He moved down the side of the trailer which was facing the road, safely out of sight of anyone who might check from the house window. Pulling a knife, he sliced a hole several feet wide and climbed in. He reached for his torch and flicked it on, shadows immediately looming up around the inside of the tarpaulin. He knew the light was a risk, but he would never find the drugs at this time of night without it.

The truck was very well stocked. Metal shelving ran up and down the length of the trailer and small packages were stacked very efficiently all along them. Access gaps every few yards meant that he would be able to search every part of the trailer without much fuss. He started his hunt for the drugs, flashing his torch-light around as he went. It concerned him that the light might be visible from outside on such a dark night, but he had little choice.

The sheer size of the truck meant that it took a few minutes to search. More often than not the drugs were left in a bag which made them easy to carry. The cargo in this trailer seemed to be parcels, maybe some kind of courier truck. He had hoped the drugs would be obvious to him when he found them, but having been around the whole truck once he found nothing. There had been a few larger packages on the floor, however, so he decided to go back and check them individually.

The first one he opened contained a dozen or so heavy continental quilts. The next one was far too light so he didn’t bother with it. When the third package revealed four large beanbags, he began to think he must have the wrong truck. But the plate was definitely right. Jez said the package was larger than normal, but nothing was standing out to him.

As he approached the next package stretched out on the floor he noticed that it was wrapped in a different way to the others. It looked like a dark coloured sheet had been taped around it. Approximately three feet long and a foot or so wide, it was tucked in a corner, with its far end out of sight behind some shelving. He could just about reach the nearest part of the package and managed to get a good grip with both hands. Getting a feel for the weight of it, he pulled it free with one quick motion and it slid across the floor towards him. It was heavy, but then a package of this size packed tightly with drugs would be heavy.

This is a bit weird, what have they done here?

He noticed that the sheet was not taped at the top end, so he crouched down and shuffled up to it to look inside. He moved the sheet down to search for the drugs, and then reeled backwards with shock.

Staring out at him from within the package were two of the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen.

43

Chloe set her alarm for the morning and slipped between the clean white sheets of her bed. It wasn’t even ten o’clock yet but the wine she’d enjoyed with her father was now seeking its revenge, and the yawns were coming thick and fast. She also had a good book on the go and always found that reading helped her to relax and take her mind off things. Her mobile shook as it received a call. She looked at the screen. It was Ben. What the hell did he want at this time?

‘Hello Ben. It’s a bit late to be calling now isn’t it? What do you want?’ She didn’t ty to hide her irritation. The last time she spoke to him he acted like an idiot, and she was too old to be messed around like a schoolgirl. As far as she was concerned they’d got on really well that evening at the theatre. There hadn’t been any romantic connotations on the night, but the conversation had been warm and friendly with a hint of flirting on both sides, and she’d definitely felt some kind of connection between them. Maybe she’d read too much into it, but even so, there was no need to be openly hostile with her.

‘Hi Chloe, I know it’s late. Listen, I’m really sorry about earlier. You caught me off guard and I acted like an arsehole. I didn’t mean to upset you.’

‘Oh you didn’t upset me, don’t worry. You can make plans with anyone you want; it’s nothing to do with me.’ The words didn’t come out quite as she had intended and she wondered if it was the effects of the wine.

‘I didn’t realise we were at that stage. I really enjoyed it, but we only went to the theatre.’ He actually sounded quite reasonable and she felt awkward about her clumsy choice of words.

‘Yes. I mean no, we aren’t at that stage. I’m sorry Ben, I’m not stalking you or anything, I just don’t like to be humiliated like that, especially in front of other people. It’s not about you and me, it’s about common decency. I thought we were friends, you know, not just work colleagues. That’s all it was.’ She stood up and walked over to the window. Parting the bright, flowery curtains, she looked out into the darkness.

‘Let me make it up to you. Come out with me tomorrow night. We’ll go anywhere you want; just name it and I promise you’ll have a good time. Come on, let’s forget this and move on.’

Chloe thought about it for a moment. She’d liked him from the minute she bumped into him in the revolving doors on that first morning. He’d also been very supportive at work, and surely everyone deserved a second chance. She closed the curtain and sat on the edge of her bed.

‘Okay, why not? I tell you what, let me show you the sights of Bradmill. Come over at eight and we’ll go and get something to eat in the village. There’s a great pub down there.’

‘I’d love too,’ said Ben, sounding surprisingly excited. ‘See you at eight. And I really am sorry, it won’t happen again.’

‘It had better not. There’ll be no third chance you know,’ she said in a stern voice, only half-jokingly.

They chatted a while longer and then said goodnight. Chloe settled back down into bed and turned out the light. Had she done the right thing? She hoped it wasn’t just the wine talking and that she wasn’t going to wake up in the morning regretting what she’d just agreed to. She really did like Ben, and if the incident at work was the worst he had to offer then he wasn’t so bad. And besides, her dad had liked him too and he was generally a very good judge of character. She smiled to herself as she shuffled down under the sheets. It was some time before her racing mind slowed down and allowed her to fall asleep.

44

The Timer took a step back.

What the fuck is this? It should be drugs, it’s always drugs.

He directed the torch down onto the package and located the eyes again. They blinked in the torchlight. Big, blue eyes, undoubtedly those of a child, stared back, the terror within them all too obvious to see.

What have they set me up with here? Jez never said a word about this.

It was then that he remembered what Jez had said. The package is bigger than normal, so make sure you’ve got a decent set of wheels. The package was not what you would call large. The Timer reckoned the child to be around the same age as his own girls, based on size alone, making her around five or six years old.

He bent over and pulled the sheet further down. The girl lying on the floor of the trailer stared back up at him, unable to make a sound through the thick tape which had been secured tightly over her mouth. He pulled the sheet away completely and saw that she was dressed in a thick red duffle coat. Her hands and feet were also bound by the same tape, and it was clear to him why she was lying so still and why she looked so scared.

It’s just a job, the same as any other. Deliver the goods and collect the cash. Six grand for this remember.

But he already knew he couldn’t go through with it. The child reminded him too much of his own girls at home. Daisy and Molly would be safely tucked up in bed, their mother close by, warm and happy. The contrast to this girl was stark, and she should be in a similar place, in her own bed, with her own family. He was a bad guy, he knew that. He’d done bad things, and yes, he had enjoyed the thrill of it. But this was something else. This was a child, a young girl who didn’t belong in this world, not this ugly world of greed and violence. He couldn’t do it, and he already knew that this was a turning point, not only for this young vulnerable child laying in the back of this truck on her way to God knows where, but also for himself.

Putting his face close to the girl’s, he smiled widely. Not a grin, but a warm, genuine smile, and he was sure he saw a twinkle in the child’s eyes.

‘I’m gonna get you somewhere safe, sweetheart,’ he said, and those eyes blinked back at him. ‘I promise I’ll take this tape off you in a minute, but we need to get to my car first. I’m going to carry you out of here.’

‘What the hell are you doing in here you thieving bastard?’ The driver had apparently noticed the light in the truck and had come out to investigate. ‘I’m warning you, the police are on their way. You’d better run whilst you can.’ The driver looked even smaller close up. Balding, with a stomach which hung low over the top of his belt, and possibly the least threatening man the Timer had ever seen. He shone the torch directly at the man’s face to make sure he couldn’t see the child lying at his feet.

‘Listen to me carefully. I have a knife on me and I don’t want to use it. Go back into the house and wait for the police to arrive. I’m not stealing anything, and I’ll be on my way in just a minute.’ The Timer really did not want to hurt the man. After all, he was just an innocent pawn in all of this. He had no idea that he had been carrying an extra package, never mind that it was a child.

The man stood there trying to make out what was going on, his hand forming a peek over his eyes as if he was looking into strong sunlight. He obviously didn’t fancy his chances and seemed reluctant to fight, but his pride clearly wouldn’t let him give in easily. He shuffled on his feet and ruffled what little hair he had.

‘I don’t want any trouble, mate, but you’re in my truck. I can’t let you just take stuff out of it.’

The Timer pulled his knife and held it out in front of him, making sure the blade flashed in the torchlight. His victim took a step back and reached for the opening in the tarpaulin, ready to make his escape if necessary.

‘Go back into the house, or I will use this. It’ll hurt like nothing you’ve ever felt and you’ll die a slow and painful death.’ The Timer spoke calmly and didn’t once break his stare, confident that the man would back down.

‘Oh Jesus, okay, okay. Just don’t take anything. I’ll lose my job if you do. Please, don’t take anything. The police are coming.’ He turned and disappeared through the hole in the tarpaulin.

45

The Timer bent down and scooped the small, weightless child up into his arms, clasping her close to his chest.

‘Come on, babe, we’ll have you out of here and back to safety as soon as we can.’ The blue eyes continued to stare up at him.

He returned to the hole in the truck’s tarpaulin and clambered down with the child still clutching to him. Snow was now falling from the dark sky and it felt sharp on his face as he looked up at the house. The curtains twitched as the truck driver and his girlfriend looked out, their silhouettes clear against the light behind them. There was no sign of the police arriving, and he was confident that the threat had been a lie. The last thing the driver needed was to have to explain why he was here, and more particularly, who he was with.

The Timer placed the child in the front passenger seat and jumped in the driver’s side, already pulling his knife. The child saw the blade and flinched.

‘Don’t worry little angel, I’m just gonna take these horrible tapes off you, okay?’

She nodded, still looking at him intently. And as the tape came away she cried again, and hugged the Timer as she sobbed. It broke his heart, and he let her cry until he felt the sobs subside and thought she would be able to speak.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Francesca.’ She sounded English, home counties perhaps.

‘Where are you from, Francesca? Where’s home?’

‘London.’ Her voice was quiet and uncertain. The Timer wasn’t even sure she knew where home was. Why was she in a truck from Hull? Had she been kept there? Or had she been taken abroad and then smuggled back into the country?

‘And is that where mummy is?’

‘I don’t know.’ The tears came again.

‘Why don’t you know?’ He spoke as gently as he could so as not to upset her any more than he had to.

‘We were on holiday.’

‘Can you remember where that was?’

‘Amster… Amsterdam. With mummy and daddy.’

‘Okay, now listen to me. I need you to be a brave girl. I’m gonna get you somewhere safe so you can go home to mummy and daddy? Would that be good?’

She hugged him tighter and sobbed uncontrollably.

What the hell is Jez doing messing about with kids?

The Timer eased the child gently back into her seat and fastened the seatbelt across her. She needed a booster seat really but it would have to do. He set off down the lane in search of help, driving carefully in the light covering of snow that had already developed. It wasn’t long before he approached a small village where several stone houses lined both sides of the road. He pulled the car over and clambered out.

‘Come on Francesca, I need to get you safe,’ he said gently as he helped her out of the car. He picked her up and hurried to the sturdy-looking door of a house where lights were shining from the front windows. He banged on the wood several times and waited.

‘Hello?’ It was a pleasant looking woman in her thirties. She’d opened the door seemingly without any great concern for own safety. The Timer guessed that she’d lived in this rural community for many years; a place where serious crime just didn’t happen.

‘Hello love. Do you live here alone?’ The Timer knew the question would unease her, and he could see that he was right by her change of expression, but he had to be sure this was a safe place.

‘Can I help you with something?’ asked the woman, stepping back and subconsciously closing the door a little.

‘Yes, I think you can. I…’

‘Who is it mummy?’ A small boy appeared from behind the woman’s legs and peered up at the Timer.

‘Go back inside dear, it’s just a man looking for some help with his daughter.’ Her words were full of warmth and love despite her concern about the stranger at the door. The Timer knew instantly that this was a good place.

‘Please, I need you to take this child and get her to safety. Call the police and tell them that she is missing. Her name is Francesca.’

‘I don’t understand. Is she your daughter?’

‘No, but she needs help. She needs to get back to her family. I think they live in London. I don’t have time to explain it all now.’

‘But who are you? Where have you come from?’

‘I can’t tell you any more than I have. I’m sorry, I know this is a big ask, but I have no alternative.’

The woman looked back into the house and he thought she was about to call to someone else, but she didn’t.

‘Okay,’ she said simply. ‘I’ll do it.’

The Timer shaped to pass Francesca to the woman but the girl held on to his coat as tightly as she could. He knelt down and placed her on the ground so that she was standing in front of him, her eyes gleaming in the light coming from the hallway. He knew he would never see this little girl again, but he also knew he would never forget those eyes.

‘Francesca, this nice lady is going to get you back to mummy and daddy. I promise you that she will do that. I have to leave now. You’re safe now, I promise. You’re safe.’

She nodded and hugged him again, then took hold of the hand being held out to her by the woman at the door.

‘Thank you,’ said the Timer, and the woman nodded. He turned to leave as the door closed behind him. It was only then that the anger, which he’d necessarily restrained, came to the surface. He’d been tricked into this, tricked into doing something he never would have agreed to, and they knew it. He felt used. Used and betrayed by the people for whom he had worked for many years. There was only one thing that came to mind, one thing that he knew would put things right, especially if he wanted to save face in this business of his.

Revenge.

46

‘Nathan please don’t. I just want to be left alone.’

He stepped away and sat on the edge of the bed, unable to divert his eyes from the woman he loved as she stood staring out of the bedroom window. They’d travelled back to London a couple of days after they had received the news that Francesca was almost certainly in England. There seemed little point in staying in Amsterdam after that. The centre of the investigation had been transferred to Humberside police and they waited for news, but as every hour passed they knew that the chance of finding their daughter faded, and their hearts were slowly breaking.

They found themselves stuck in a routine of doing nothing. No work, no socialising, no shopping, nothing. Most of their time was spent in this room, with its neutral painted walls and modern furniture contrasting with the original Victorian features. The high ceilings and huge sash windows couldn’t take away the feelings of claustrophobia that crushed them both until they struggled for breath. Hardly sleeping, every time the phone rang they both jumped expectantly, but it was invariably a concerned friend or family member. When the police did call, they had nothing new to report. The hours dragged and the pain intensified.

Nathan returned to his wife’s side but respected her wish to be left alone. He gazed out across the small park opposite their house, and it reminded him again of the park in Amsterdam. A few children played happily as their parents looked on. If only he could go back. Why did he let her play so far away from where he was?

He cleared the thoughts from his mind as best he could. He wasn’t to blame. The police were sure he’d been targeted, the victim of a well-executed plan. What more could he have done? Children had to be given some kind of freedom after all.

But it didn’t help to remove the guilt. He blamed himself and he was frightened that his wife blamed him too. She’d said nothing to make him believe that was the case, but she’d become more distant in recent days.

‘Shall I get us something to eat?’ he offered.

Silence. She stood staring out of the window, and he wondered if he should try to find more support for her. They’d been allocated a police liaison officer who’d been very helpful, and his wife had spoken to a counsellor, but after one session she’d refused to go back. Her behaviour worried him. He’d lost his daughter and now he was terrified that he was losing his wife too. She was the strong one in their partnership, and now she was falling, and he knew he would go down with her.

‘I trusted you.’

There it was. Barely audible, but those three words confirmed all his worst fears. She did blame him and there was little he could say or do to repair things.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said softly. ‘I’d do anything to get her back here safely.’

She turned and looked him in the eye, her face expressionless.

‘I trusted you,’ she repeated.

‘I had her. She was safe. I had her.’

‘I trusted you!’ she yelled, her voice full of hurt and anger. He didn’t respond, what could he say? The look in her eyes scared him. Could they ever recover from this? Did they even have a future together?

He held his arms out wide and continued to hold her stare, not really sure what to expect. The redness around her eyes gave away the fact that she’d been crying too often lately. But there were no tears now, just emptiness.

His mobile phone rang and he placed it to his ear. As he listened to the words of the police officer, tears cupped in the bottom of his eyes and then broke free, escaping down his face.

‘Thank you so much.’ His voice was weak with relief. Still looking into the eyes of the woman he had loved since he was sixteen, he spoke the words that he hoped would start to fix them. ‘They’ve found her. They’ve found her. She’s safe.’

His wife collapsed onto the carpet in front of him.

47

Chloe was already flustered when she arrived at work. Overnight snow had caused chaos on the railway lines and her usual train never arrived. With only fifteen minutes until her meeting at the local authority, she had no time to grab a coffee or deal with e-mails. Not that she was expecting anything important, but she did like to clear the decks first thing in the morning before she started her day’s work.

She picked up Chelsie’s file and stuffed it into her shoulder bag, grabbed a notepad and pen and headed off to the stairs. As she hurried out into the corridor she ran straight into Ben.

‘Oh, sorry Ben, I can’t talk, I’m late for a meeting.’

‘That’s quite all right. I’m glad we managed to sort a few things out last night.’

She smiled. ‘Me too, but I really do have to dash. I’ll see you tonight.’

‘Yes, looking forward to it,’ he called as she disappeared through the door to the stairwell.

After taking the stairs two at a time, she thundered across the marble tiles in reception and outside into the chilly morning air. There wasn’t a great deal of snow on the ground in the city centre, and it had largely turned to slush, the cold moisture splashing up her legs as she half ran, half walked towards the local authority building.

On arrival she saw Chelsie standing in the ornate surroundings of the reception area. As she headed over, she noticed that Chelsie had obviously made a real effort to look her best.

‘Hi Chelsie, I’m glad you could make it. How’re you feeling?’

‘A bit nervous, but I’ll be okay.’ She sounded pretty miserable and Chloe could appreciate how hard she was finding this. She smiled at her warmly.

‘I think our aim here is just to agree that George will stay at your mum’s for the time being. They won’t let him come home until Mark is safely out of the way, and until you can show that you can provide a safe environment for George on a permanent basis.’

‘I wish he could just come home now. I feel like a bit of me is missing, you know?’

‘I know. And I appreciate it’s difficult Chelsie, but we do need to think about what is best for George in the long run, and that’s to be with you. We have to play by the rules for now, but he’ll be home soon. We just need to persuade this lot in here.’ Chloe nodded her head towards the main doors that led from the reception into the rest of the building.

‘Yeah, I know. I just miss him so much.’ Her eyes glistened as she spoke.

‘Come on then, let’s get things moving. I’ll be doing most of the talking, but if they ask you anything, just tell them the truth. We’ve got nothing to hide. Ready? Deep breath…’

In fact the meeting went as well as they could expect. The local authority was satisfied that George was safe at his grandmother’s house, and agreed to review the matter in another month.

‘Thank you Chloe,’ said Chelsie as they walked out into the cold. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

‘Oh, you’re welcome Chelsie, it’s what I’m here for. Now listen, remember that we’re in this for the long haul. You will get George back, but you must look after yourself. I know it’s hard, but keep thinking about the future. And you know he’s happy at your mum’s house. At least you get to see him regularly.’

As they said goodbye and went their separate ways, the man across the street smiled to himself. Did Chelsie really think she could just walk away? Did she think she could just move on with her life and leave him behind? She was his girl, and if he couldn’t have her, no one would have her. And no posh solicitor bitch could do a damned thing about it.

48

‘Have you heard from Mr T today Mickey?’ Jez was starting to feel the first pangs of anxiety. The Timer was never late. The agreement was that he’d be at the club with the package by ten. That was fifteen minutes ago and still no sign. It did occur to him that the Timer had been unaware of the exact nature of the package. After all, it had always been drugs before. He still hadn’t convinced himself of the real reason why he didn’t give the Timer the full story before he set off. Maybe it was a nagging concern that he wouldn’t have agreed to it? Jez had been confident that once he’d started the job, the Timer would have been honour bound to complete it. But now that confidence was draining fast.

‘Nope. Were we expecting him then?’ Mickey was cleaning up the bar area from the night before, arranging clean glasses onto shelves above the bar.

‘Yeah, fifteen minutes ago. He was out on a job last night and said he’d be here by now.’

‘Drugs is it? He doesn’t usually bring them here…’

‘I know Mickey. But this one’s a bit different. You don’t need the details. Give me a shout as soon as he gets here.’ Jez wandered down to the far end of the club, pulling out his phone and redialling the Timer’s number again. Still no answer. He’d already left several messages.

Shit, where the fuck is he?

‘Jez, I need a word.’ Drabble’s voice almost echoed down the empty club. Jez looked up only to see the door of Drabble’s office closing behind him. Instantly concerned, he hurried back up to the bar and followed his boss into the office.

Drabble was sat behind the desk, immaculately dressed in his usual dark suit. ‘I seem to have confused myself here Jez. I thought you said that Mr T was coming at ten with the package.’

Jez felt the pit of his stomach lurch.

‘You aren’t confused Mr Drabble. He said ten and he’s never late. I’m not sure what’s happening.’

‘Of course I’m not fucking confused. I know he’s fucking late. But I do expect you to know what’s happening; that’s what I fucking pay you for.’ His temper was instant and terrifying. Jez was sure he felt one of his legs give way but somehow managed to regain his composure.

‘He’s not answering his phone boss.’

Drabble closed his eyes and placed a finger on his own temple, rubbing it slowly in a small circle. Opening his eyes, he spoke again, much more calmly.

‘Jez, the Kirklands are coming here tomorrow to collect the package. They aren’t going to be pleased if we can’t deliver it. Just find the Timer.’ He paused. ‘And Jez?’

‘Yes boss?’

‘Get the shooters out in the morning. Make sure you and Mickey are tooled up when they arrive if we haven’t got the package by then. I’m not taking any chances with the Kirklands, especially with that maniac Stevie in charge now.’

‘Okay boss.’ Jez spoke confidently, trying to sound as if he was relishing the prospect of a tussle with the Kirklands, but nothing could have been further from the truth. ‘You wanted Mr T to go to the solicitors again tomorrow to set a few things up. Do you want me to go instead?’

‘Yes, yes. You do that. Go in the morning before the Kirklands get here. And try not to fuck it up. Don’t take any shit from that girl we’re using. Have you sorted her cash yet?’

‘Not yet boss. I’ll do it on the way in.’

Drabble waved his hand and Jez scurried out of the room, hearing a crash behind him as Drabble thumped his fist down hard on the desk.

49

It was like a scene from the front of a greeting card as they strolled down the hill to the village pub. The snow still covered the ground here and Chloe had to admit to herself that she was impressed by Ben’s determination to come and see her as planned. Although the covering was only a couple of inches deep, he could easily have called it off due to the weather. Lights shone brightly from every window and although the car park was virtually empty, moving silhouettes told them that it was reasonably busy for a midweek evening.

Ben opened the door and let Chloe go in first. The low murmur of conversation and gentle music filled their ears and the warmth and the aroma of freshly cooked food welcomed them in like a home from home. The solid oak bar was set directly in front of them and Ben could see there was a good range of ales to choose from.

‘I understand why you like it in here; it’s very cosy isn’t it? What can I get you to drink?’

‘No, this round is on me,’ declared Chloe. ‘You bought the theatre tickets so I owe you at least one drink.’

‘At least one.’ Ben smiled down at her and she returned the gesture.

‘So what do you fancy then?’

‘I’ll have a pint of that one, I think,’ he said, pointing out a locally brewed golden ale. ‘But that’ll have to be it if I want to drive home.’

Chloe ordered the drinks, which included a glass of red wine for herself, and chatted to the barman like an old friend. She led Ben over to a small mahogany corner table and sat down. A fire raged nearby underneath a huge stone fireplace, decorated with traditional farming bric-a-brac.

‘Cheers,’ said Ben.

‘Cheers.’ They clinked glasses and each took a mouthful.

‘That’s a lovely pint. Very tasty.’ Ben was impressed with the place and now he’d tasted the beer his assessment was complete. ‘Right, didn’t you want to talk about something at work? Let’s get it out the way shall we?’

‘I did. I mean I do.’ Chloe took another sip of wine. ‘I just need to talk things through with someone. I find Ray really difficult to work with. I know he’s good at what he does, I can see that, but why does he have to be so odious?’

Ben laughed. ‘I know he’s difficult, but the thing is, he really is good at his job. He goes out of his way to look after his clients, and they love him for it.’

‘He seems to have dumped most of them on me.’ Chloe took another mouthful of wine.

‘To be fair, the vast majority of those were Simon’s files. You know, the guy I was telling you about last week who was here before you? The one that seemed to lose his way?’

‘Oh yes, I suppose I never really thought about that. I just assumed Ray had seen me as an easy target and dumped all his unwanted files on me.’ She drank some more wine, feeling a gentle head rush which served to relax her even more. ‘Ray was quite nasty about him, I thought. And he does seem to have some clients who appear to be a bit dodgy, if that’s the right word. Don’t you think that?’

‘I know what you mean, but they’re clients that have been around for quite some time. They provide us with plenty of work. And as for Simon, well he was a pain in the arse to be quite honest. He caused a lot of problems for a lot of people in the firm. He just wasn’t reliable enough.’

‘Well things seem to have settled down a bit now. Anyway, let’s not talk about work anymore. What do you think of this place?’ Chloe waved her hand as if introducing something new to him.

‘Yeah, it’s great. I love traditional pubs. The atmosphere’s really nice. Is it always so busy?’

‘More or less. I guess the snow’s probably kept a few people here who might otherwise have travelled further afield, but it’s never quiet. Perhaps you’ll want to come again one day?’ Chloe looked down at her wine shyly.

‘I think I might, yes.’ Ben looked at her as she looked up slowly and they held their gaze for a few moments.

Gotcha, he thought.

50

It had been an efficient and productive morning so far. Chloe had cleared a few urgent matters, and that included a call to the local authority to finalise the arrangements for George to stay at his grandmother’s. It was now late morning and the office staff had gathered around the desk of a colleague to congratulate her on reaching her fiftieth birthday, and as the singsong died down and people made their way back to their own desks, Ray slinked over, standing a little too close as usual. The smell of cheap aftershave stuck in the back of her throat.

‘I thought she was pushing sixty to be honest.’

‘Ray, don’t you ever say anything nice about anyone?’ Chloe had learned that it was okay to speak her mind where Ray was concerned. He might get angry if she crossed the line, but he always forgot about their arguments just as quickly as they started; she’d actually found something about him that she liked.

‘Well, just look at her. She’s hardly been looking after herself has she?’ He kept his eyes on the subject of his criticism a little too long before he turned to Chloe. He didn’t seem to notice her frown. ‘Anyway, I’d like you to see one of my clients. It would have been Mr Crawford, but one of his colleagues is coming instead for some reason. I have dealt with him before on the phone, and you can safely carry out any instructions he gives you, so let’s have none of that nonsense that we had before okay?’

‘Ray, is this going to be another of your dodgy deals?’ She stopped, and could tell by the look on his face that the line had been well and truly crossed.

‘Chloe, just do it please. I don’t need to hear this crap every time I ask you to do something.’ He threw a file on her desk and walked off.

Chloe picked it up and looked at the name on the top – Mr Peters. She headed down to reception and approached Gloria without the kind of trepidation she had felt when she first arrived at the firm.

‘Hi Gloria. I’m looking for Mr Peters.’

‘Hello Chloe. I’ve put him in meeting room two.’

‘Thank you.’

Chloe knew not to push the conversation any further, if it could be called a conversation. She was still working on Gloria, and the fact that she no longer received a scowl told her she was making progress.

Mr Peters was a smart, lean-looking man in his thirties, clean shaven but for a well-manicured moustache which travelled just a little too far down each side of his chin for Chloe’s liking. She introduced herself and offered her hand, which he squeezed just a little too hard as he told her how pleased he was to meet her.

What is that on your face?

‘Now then, Miss Webster, I want you to listen very carefully to what I am about to say. Very carefully, do you understand?’ He was well spoken with a hint of a Sheffield accent.

‘Yes, of course, what can I do…?’ She stopped as he put his finger to his lips in the way that a school teacher might to quieten a five year old.

‘Please, don’t speak Miss Webster, just listen. Over the next few weeks I am going to give you instructions to carry out some transactions for me. There are some houses that I want you to buy, and some overseas companies which I want you to set up. There will also be some trusts to create. Money will need to be moved around and other things too, when the time comes.’

Chloe sat there looking across the table in silence. The calm and control in his voice simply added to the menace that was quickly filling the room and surrounding her. The man smiled and continued.

‘I will give you all the details soon. Now you won’t like the nature of some of the things I’m going to ask you to do. You’ll probably think they are the kind of transactions you should report to some authority or other. I’m here to tell you now that you must not do that. I’m not asking you, I’m telling you. If you report these matters, there will be very grave consequences for you and your father.’

Chloe wondered if she’d misheard that last part.

Did he just threaten me? Did he just threaten my father?

Peters seemed to notice the look on her face as the realisation of what was happening sunk in. He was clearly expecting a reaction and continued speaking before she had chance to respond.

‘You will of course be shocked by this. I need to know that you understand what I have just said? You are to do what I say, when I say it. Do you understand?’

Chloe had already started to panic. Her heart was racing and she felt like she had to get out of the room. She glanced at the door next to her. How did they know so much about her? They mentioned her father. Not her mother or her family, just her father. How did they know that?

‘Try to relax Miss Webster. Do not move and do not call for help. Just stay where you are.’ Mr Peters remained as calm as he had been since he started talking. His voice was steady and ice cold. Emotion was clearly not his thing,

Chloe had little choice but to sit still. Fear meant that her legs would probably not do as she commanded in any case, and she sat staring at the man across the table. All she could think about was her father. Was he okay?

‘I repeat, Miss Webster, do you understand what I have been saying to you?’

She managed to calm herself down enough to speak. ‘I understand. Is my father safe?’

‘Yes. He’s at home. We can find you whenever we need to, so don’t tell him about any of this. Don’t tell anyone about this. Do you understand?’

‘Yes.’ The word only just came out.

He smiled. ‘Good. Now, we are not unreasonable people. You will be well paid for your work, but we do expect absolute loyalty in return. Welcome to the business, Miss Webster.’ He stood up and took a few steps towards the door. Stopping next to where Chloe was sat, he formed a gun shape with his fingers. She looked up at him and he pushed the figurative weapon against her forehead. She was numb with fear.

‘Be under no illusions about what will happen if you don’t comply.’ He removed his hand and left the room.

Chloe stared at the door as it swung slowly shut under its own weight, and then burst into tears.

51

Chloe couldn’t move. She sat in silence staring at the door, with only the gentle ticking of the wall clock for company. How had this happened? Her world had just been devastated by a man she had never even met before. Images of Crawford and Peters, but also of Ray came to mind. How did he fit into all this? Was he the one who had orchestrated these events? Did he set her up with these people? How could she have left herself so open to this? Feelings of guilt and worry were now gnawing away at her as the questions spun around inside her head. Tears pricked her eyes again as she thought of her father.

Have I really put his life in danger?

She folded her arms on the table and rested her head on top of the makeshift pillow. As she took a deep breath her body shivered. She felt cold despite the room being maintained at a comfortable temperature by the automatic heating system. She closed her eyes and tried to get things clear in her thoughts, but she felt exhausted, and drifted into the deep blackness of sleep.

A gentle tapping at the meeting room door woke her.

‘Hello?’ she said softly, a little confused and wondering how long she had slept.

The door was pushed ajar and Gloria’s face appeared in the gap.

‘You’ve been in here for quite a while. I saw Mr Peters leave and wondered if everything was okay?’ She sounded genuinely concerned.

‘Oh Gloria, thank you so much. I don’t know what to do.’ The tears came again and Gloria stepped inside the room and pulled the door shut behind her. She passed a tissue over to Chloe.

‘Are you okay Chloe? Is there someone I should tell? Shall I go and get Mr Drake?’

‘No! No… thank you Gloria. Not Mr Drake. Could you try and find Ben Howson for me and tell him where I am? I really need to speak to him.’ She saw a look of surprise in Gloria’s eyes, but the receptionist simply nodded and left the room.

Please come, Ben. Please come.

The door opened again before she had chance to think about things any further. Ben knelt down beside her and put his arm around her shoulders.

‘Chloe, what’s the matter? What’s happened? Gloria seemed really worried about you. I was just on my way out when she ran into me.’ The concern on his face made her feel instantly better.

‘I’ve just seen a client. Mr Peters? Do you know him?’

Ben shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. One of Ray’s is he?’

‘Yes, and he threatened me. Said he’d kill me and my dad if I didn’t do what he said.’

‘And what did he want you to do?’

Chloe was taken aback that he thought this was more important than the threat made on her life.

‘Well, nothing yet, but he said he would do over the next few weeks. Property deals, new companies, things like that. Some trust work I think too.’

‘Hardly sounds like master criminals at work,’ he said with a gentle snort.

‘Ben, it’s not funny, he threatened to kill me.’

Ben stood up and pulled his arm away from her. He walked across the room and leaned on the back of a chair.

‘Are you sure? You know what Ray’s clients are like. They think they’re something they’re not. Like that Mr Crawford you saw. Why don’t you wait and see if anything actually comes of all this? What else can you do? There’s no point running off to the police now, it’s just your word against his. And imagine what Drake would say?’

Chloe didn’t like what she was hearing but her mind was muddled and she liked Ben and trusted him to help her. He must be giving her good advice. And he’s right, nothing had actually happened yet. Maybe she had misunderstood a very sick joke. She needed time to think.

‘I’m going home, Ben. I don’t feel very well and I need to think things over. Can you let people upstairs know? I’ll be back in tomorrow if anyone is looking for me.’

‘Yes, of course. Will you be okay getting home? Do you want me to run you?’

‘No, I’ll be fine. Thanks anyway. I need to clear my head.’

‘Okay, as long as you’re sure. I really think you might be blowing this out of all proportion you know? Ray’s an idiot, and some of his clients like to bend the rules a bit, but I don’t think it’s anything more sinister than that.’

She didn’t reply. Confusion was making it difficult to decipher the reality from the imagery. Ben placed his hand on her shoulder as he left the room and she shivered. Was it the cold, or something else?

52

Jez knelt down behind the bar and unlocked the sturdy metal cabinet. The thick steel door scraped open to reveal a small selection of hand guns. The thought of using these against the Kirklands caused him to pause for longer than he might have done. There was little choice. Drabble was right of course; they’d be stupid to go into this meeting unarmed. The Timer had failed to deliver the package, and the Kirklands would be here any minute to collect it. Drabble had shot down any suggestion of calling them and telling them there had been a problem, and he was probably right on that count too; it would be better to look them in the eye and tell them the truth.

But he still felt very uneasy about the whole situation. They’d vouched for the Timer and for good reason; he’d never let them down before. Jez couldn’t help but think he must have run into trouble on the job somewhere. Either that or he didn’t like what he’d found in the truck. And if that was the case they really were in trouble.

He removed two guns from the safe and stood up, admiring the weight of the two pieces. They only had a small stock but what they did have was quality. Drabble never carried himself of course, leaving the dirty work for others to complete as usual.

‘Mickey,’ he shouted, and threw one of the guns over to where Mickey was standing. The younger man caught it in one hand.

‘Fucking hell, Jez. Take a bit of care will you?’

‘Don’t worry, it’s not loaded. Here.’ He threw a clip over and Mickey loaded it in as if it were second nature to him. He brandished the revolver out in front of him, as if pointing it an assailant.

‘I’d like to see them fucking Kirklands try something today. I’ll waste the fucking lot of them.’

‘All right, all right, Mickey. Remember, these are just for back up, in case things get a bit feisty.’ Jez loaded his own gun and pushed it into the back of his jeans.

Mickey tucked his gun in the waistband of his tracksuit out of sight. Never having met the Kirklands, he didn’t really know what to expect, but if their reputation was anything to go on, things could indeed get very tasty.

The door to the club swung open and a huge man strolled in, looking around casually as if he was sizing the place up for something. Mickey couldn’t keep his eyes off the scar which ran the entire length of the man’s face, down across his left eye and back round towards his ear. Bloodthirsty thoughts entered his head as he tried to imagine what had caused it. Four other men came in behind him and took up positions around the snooker hall. One started to knock a few balls about on the nearest snooker table.

‘Good afternoon gentlemen. Is Mr Drabble in?’ said the leader. Like the other men, he was dressed in a dark suit and wearing dark glasses.

Stereotypical, but very effective, thought Jez.

‘And who the fuck are you lot?’ Mickey blurted out before he caught Jez’s glare.

‘What my friend here means is, welcome to the club Mr Kirkland. And yes, Mr Drabble is here, I’ll give him a shout.’ Jez gave Mickey another look to make sure he knew to behave and retreated behind the bar. He knocked on the office door and opened it a few inches.

‘Stevie Kirkland’s here, boss.’

Drabble had never been scared of anything in his life and he didn’t plan to start now. Having dealt with the Kirklands for many years now, he was confident of smooth-talking his way out of this one. He walked assuredly across to the largest Kirkland and offered his hand. The huge paw that gripped it felt like a vice.

‘Nice to see you Stevie. How’s your old man? I haven’t seen him for a few months. Keeping well is he?’

‘He’s doing all right thank you Mr Drabble. Leaves most of the work to me now. Me and my cousins you know? Have you met them? He nodded towards the four men standing guard around the place, as if Drabble might have missed them.

‘Ah yes, keep it in the family. That’s a very good idea. But then your father always was a shrewd man. Shall we talk in the office?’ He turned as if to lead the way into the back room.

‘No thanks, I’d rather do it out here. In the open, if it’s all the same to you.’

‘Yes, well, whatever. Now listen Stevie, I’m not sure exactly what’s happened, but we don’t have the package yet. The guy who went to fetch it is as reliable as they come, so there’s no need for panic. He’ll be here in the next couple of days I’m sure. He’s probably just lying low for a bit, but we’ll find him.’

Stevie stood there in silence, the slightest smirk developing across his face. He took in the surroundings of the club, pausing to look at Mickey and Jez, making both men feel instantly uneasy. Eventually returning his gaze to Drabble, he spoke very matter-of-factly, which only served to make his words more menacing.

‘You know you’d be dead by now if you weren’t a friend of my father’s don’t you?’

Mickey moved his hand around the back of his trousers and felt for the gun.

‘Don’t bother son,’ said Stevie, as his four cousins all pulled out sawn-off shotguns from their suits and pointed them at Drabble. ‘You’ve got one week, Mr Drabble. Then we’ll be back for the package. Please make sure you have it by then.’

Drabble knew to show no sign of fear. ‘Come on Stevie son, why the threats? Why don’t I give your old man a call and sort this out?’

‘Like I said, he leaves it to me now. He’s retired, so leave him out of this. One week, and that’s generous.’

As they made their way out of the hall, Jez was sure he heard Drabble breathe a sigh of relief.

It was over, at least for now.

53

The intense rage inside him festered and gnawed at him like a disease. He’d been betrayed by those he trusted, and trust was the basis on which he operated. Loyalty was everything in this game and if you didn’t have that, you were no one. The anger reared up within him once again, and the only thing that would curtail that feeling was revenge.

By now Drabble would have worked out that he wasn’t coming. He guessed that the plan was to move this child on to somewhere else, or more likely to someone else. And presumably in return for a large pay packet. He still found it hard to believe that Drabble had got himself mixed up in this mess; he’d never shown any interest in children before, not in any way. The rewards must have been huge to tempt him into it and if there was one thing that Drabble did care about, it was money.

The Timer reached down and picked up his hunting knife. With a serrated edge and a polished mahogany handle, it was an impressive looking weapon. Measuring around ten inches in length, the mirror-like blade was sharpened to ensure nothing would prevent it from finding its target. He clipped its sheath on his belt and slid the knife into its home. Drabble needed to pay for what he’d done, and Jez too. They had deliberately misled him and that is not something he would forgive easily.

But there was still a nagging doubt that he couldn’t shift. Had there been some kind of misunderstanding? Had the wrong package been sent? Perhaps Drabble and Jez didn’t know anything about the child either. Maybe they were being duped too. He needed to find the truth and the only way to do that was to speak to Drabble, face to face. Talk it out, see what he had to say, and then take whatever revenge was necessary.

At least the child was safe. He thought about those beautiful eyes again and wondered if they were back with the people who were missing them the most.

The distant bang of a door being closed too hard and excited chattering told him that his wife and children had arrived home. He removed the knife and placed it in a drawer, then hurried inside the house.

‘Daddy!’ cried his girls as he swept them both up into his arms. ‘Can we have ice cream for tea? Mummy said we had to ask you.’

‘Of course you can my little angels. You can have anything you like.’

And he held them closer and for longer than he had for a long time.

54

Chloe stood up as the train trundled into Bradmill station. She waited as it slowed to a stop and then pressed the button to open the doors. They slid apart and she stepped down onto the platform. It was mid-afternoon and there was still a sharp chill in the air. The fields around the village remained lightly covered in snow from the day before, and although the sun was bright, it was already low in the sky and the warmth from its rays was negligible.

The shock from what had happened earlier in the day still accompanied her. The chat with Ben had helped reassure her, and she was glad that she’d shared it with him, but real doubts remained in her mind about not reporting the events to the police.

The familiar surroundings of the village helped to settle her nerves as she walked down the hill towards home. Faces she knew said hello and enquired about her wellbeing and about her father. She smiled back and acknowledged their concern and good wishes. It certainly made her feel better, and she felt herself relax as she approached home.

On passing the village shop, she remembered that they needed milk at home and one or two other bits and pieces. She headed over towards the bright orange sign fixed above the doorway which read Village Store. She also needed some cash and stopped to draw some from the machine outside. She fumbled in her purse for her card and inserted it into the slot. The usual messages appeared and then it asked for her number. She keyed it in and waited as the card was processed. A moment later it presented her with a series of options. She pressed the button for cash with a receipt and then keyed in the amount. Fifty pounds should see her through the next few days. Again she waited while the machine churned and rattled and then her cash appeared before her. She wondered if she had been paid by her new firm yet and requested a balance.

What she saw next made her heart race again as it had been earlier in the day. She pressed the cancel button and removed her card. She looked around her to check no one was watching, and then pushed her card back into the machine, keyed her number in and waited.

There it was again. She pressed the button for another service and then tapped on the request for a printout of recent transactions. She looked around anxiously once more. An elderly woman was now standing behind her waiting to draw her pension.

‘Hello Chloe love. How’s your dad?’

‘Oh he’s fine thanks Mrs Hoggard. I won’t be a minute.’ Usually she would stop and chat but that was now the furthest thing from her mind.

‘Take your time love, I’m in no rush.’

The machine stirred again and printed a mini-statement of the last ten transactions through her account. Without looking, she folded it up and stuffed it into her purse. Then she took her card, smiled at Mrs Hoggard and hurried off towards home.

‘Hi dad,’ she shouted as she opened the front door and stepped inside.

‘Hello love. You’re early.’

‘Yeah, I didn’t feel that well to be honest so I came home. I’ll go in early tomorrow to catch up.’

Her father appeared in the frame of the kitchen doorway. He looked concerned.

‘What’s up?’

‘Nothing.’ She could see that he was worried. ‘Honestly dad, I think I’m just over-tired. My head’s banging. I think I’ll go and lay down for an hour or two.’

‘Good idea. I’ll give you a shout later when dinner’s ready. I thought we’d have a curry tonight.’

‘Great, that’ll cheer me up.’

‘And there’re some new painkillers in the bathroom if you need them.’

‘Thanks dad.’

She ran upstairs and closed her bedroom door. She knew her father wouldn’t disturb her now until dinner. She reached into her bag and pulled out her purse. Unclasping it, she took out the cashpoint statement and unfolded it as quickly as her trembling hands would allow her to.

And there it was, staring her in the face. It was just a tiny row of print on a small scrap of paper, but she knew what it was, and she knew what it meant. Mr Peters’ words came flooding back into her head.

You will be well paid for your work.

Someone had paid ten thousand pounds into her account.

55

Chelsie had always been a light sleeper and the fact that something had woken her in the night didn’t worry her unduly. Only last week she’d been disturbed by a wheelie bin being blown over outside. It wasn’t windy tonight but she knew it could have been anything. She wasn’t even entirely sure it had been a noise that woke her, although she did think she’d heard the culmination of a sound as she woke. A glance at the clock told her it was just after three in the morning. Pitch black outside of course, but for the orange glow from a streetlight which crept in around the edge of her bedroom curtains. She turned over and retreated under the warmth of the covers. Images of George ran through her mind and refused to allow her back to asleep. She smiled to herself as tears welled behind her closed eyelids.

Another noise and this time it sounded like it was coming from inside the house. A bang, or a rattle perhaps? A door being forced?

Don’t be silly, you’re safe here. But the doubts remained. Surely Mark wouldn’t be that stupid?

She instinctively reached for her mobile and then cursed as she realised it was downstairs. She lay still for a few moments. Silence, but she had to investigate, although the thought of stepping out into the cold bedroom and finding her way downstairs did nothing to tempt her into action. Surely he wouldn’t come round here at night? Would he?

She’d read somewhere that noise is usually enough to scare off a night time intruder, so she flicked her bedside radio on, turned up the volume and stomped across her bedroom floor. She took her dressing gown off the hook and wrapped it tightly around herself. Then she opened the door and peered out at the landing.

Everything certainly looked like it had when she’d come to bed. She flicked the light on and, craning her neck over the white painted bannister, she could see that the front door remained closed and there was no sign of a break-in. She started to walk downstairs past family photographs which decorated the wall. George and her mother watched her take each step as she went, and she made sure that her feet made plenty of noise, the sound of the radio following in her wake.

‘Hello? Is there anyone there? I’ve already called the police so you should go now whilst you can.’

She felt self-conscious as she spoke. The voices on the radio behind her and the light from the landing reassured her that she was safe. As she stepped off the bottom of the stairs she switched on the hallway light. The door to the lounge was closed, as was the kitchen door.

She filled the lounge with light and began to feel safer still. Everything looked fine, and it was clear there had been no burglary; surely this is the first place they would have come? She didn’t have much to steal, but what she did have was in this room. But her television was still here, as was her mobile phone, lying on the black leather settee where she’d left it the night before.

Finally, she opened the kitchen door. Its location at the back of the house meant it was dark, and there was no street light filtering in here to help her. She wondered if this was the first time she had ever had every light in the house on at the same time, and pressed the switch next to her.

‘Hello Chelsie,’ slurred a voice.

It was Mark, her ex.

56

Chelsie didn’t scream. Maybe it was the familiarity of seeing him back in her kitchen, a place he’d been many times before. Perhaps part of her had expected this to happen. She stood by the kitchen door and looked across at him, her face expressionless.

‘George isn’t here.’ It was the first thing that came to mind. His safety had always been her main concern and it was almost as if she was reassuring herself that he was out of harm’s way.

‘It’s not George I want, it’s you. It’s always been you. Why did you have to go and ruin it all? We had a good thing going, didn’t we?’

He sounded drunk, and pathetic, and she wanted to tell him to get out and never come back. She also wanted to scream at him and hurt him for what he’d done to George, but she knew she was in danger. There was only one way she would get out of this alive, and that would be if she could keep him calm and reasonable. He wasn’t a big man, but he was certainly strong enough to hurt her. Unshaven and dishevelled, the darkness under his eyes told her that he hadn’t been sleeping. It also made him look terrifying, and it chilled her to the core.

‘We did have a good thing going Mark. Maybe we could again.’ She was lying but desperately wanted him to stay calm. ‘But you need to understand that George is the most important person to me and always will be.’

He pushed his chin up into the air and stretched his neck, causing a bone inside to crack. He was clearly trying to decide what to do; he’d arrived full of anger but her reaction seemed to puzzle him. He started to pace the length of the modest kitchen like a wild animal kept in an undersized compound.

‘That fucking child,’ he muttered, and Chelsie knew he was struggling with his emotions. She started to have doubts that she was playing him the right way, but she knew there was no right way to play him, just different ways, and his unpredictability had always scared her.

‘Why don’t I make us a cup of tea and we can talk about this?’ She didn’t know what else to say.

‘I don’t want a cup of tea. Why haven’t you been returning my texts? Why didn’t you answer the door when I came round last time? I knew you were in, I could see the curtains moving.’ He wasn’t looking at her as he spoke. His head was down and he looked only at the floor. Still pacing, Chelsie flinched a little every time he came towards her.

‘I was scared. You were shouting and swearing. Even the neighbours were scared. You’re lucky they didn’t call the police Mark.’

He breathed deeply.

‘Those fucking nosey wankers. I’ll kill that bitch next door if I see her again.’

Chelsie tried to stay calm. She reached into her dressing gown pocket but she remembered her phone was on the settee in the next room.

It was then that he started smashing things. He swept a tray onto the floor that she had used last night when she’d had a cup of coffee in the lounge. The tray clattered across the floor and the mug smashed into several large pieces. Next went a line of wine glasses from a shelf on the wall, leaving broken glass scattered across the floor.

‘Stop it, please!’ cried Chelsie. ‘What do you want?’

He grabbed a chopping knife from a wooden block on the kitchen worktop and held it out in front of him. Her blood ran cold as she realised her tactic had failed.

‘Mark, please. Think about George!’ As soon as the words were out she knew they were wrong. His eyes narrowed and he started towards her.

Chelsie screamed and ran down the hallway to the front door, fumbling with the lock. Before she could open it he slammed into the back of her, crushing her against the solid structure. Blood spurted from her nose and she cried out in pain, sure that she had felt the bone crack. He pulled her back and threw her to the floor, then sat on top of her. Holding her arms out wide, he leaned over so that his face was uncomfortably close to hers.

‘I loved you,’ he shouted, so ferociously that his spittle showered her face.

She was visibly shaking as she looked into his eyes, regretting that she had ever let him into their lives. She knew this was her last chance to get out of the situation unharmed.

‘I know you did,’ she whispered back. ‘I loved you too. I still do.’

He pulled her wrists together onto her chest and held on to both her hands and the knife. He let out a sob and she felt him relax his grip just a little. Using the additional strength she acquired from the adrenaline pumping round her body, she heaved her arms apart and broke his grip. The knife flicked out of his grasp and landed on the carpet next to her head. Without thinking she took hold of it and thrust it deep into his upper body, just under his left armpit, all her anger and frustration surfacing in an instant. George flashed through her mind and gave her the strength to pull the knife out and ram it in again. He shouted in agony as he wriggled on top of her. Fresh red blood dribbled from the side of his mouth and a look of shock appeared in his eyes. But he was still strong. He gripped her hand and managed to pry the knife from her fingers. She covered her face with her arms and braced herself.

‘I loved you,’ he repeated, choking on blood as he spoke.

Then he sank the knife into her chest before collapsing on top of her.

57

Chloe sat there staring at Drake. The lines on his face drew a picture of absolute concern. Whether that was for her or for his precious law firm she didn’t know, but it was certainly genuine. She hadn’t really got to know him very well in the couple of weeks she’d been there. If she was honest, she could have made more of an effort, but he was always so busy and distant. They’d found some brief connection when she discovered he had a daughter her age, but there was never any time for chat, or niceties; it was all business, and then only important business. He seemed like a decent bloke, but she couldn’t put her hand on her heart and say she knew that for sure.

‘Chloe, are you okay? Did you hear what I just said?’ He ran his fingers through his hair, stood up and walked over to the window. ‘It’s not your fault, you know that don’t you?’

Chloe looked at the framed picture of Drake and his wife that sat on the desk. They were dressed for skiing, stood on the top of a snow-capped mountain and smiling widely into the camera. It was a picture of normality which seemed a million miles away from where she was now. Drake’s relaxed face grinning out at her from the photograph bore stark contrast to the anxiety he was displaying now.

‘What…’ Her voice was trembling and she cleared her throat. ‘What happened?’

‘They don’t really know. There were signs of a struggle in the kitchen, and they were both found in the hallway. He was declared dead at the scene, and she’s now in an induced coma at the hospital, lucky to be alive by all accounts. Very serious internal injuries, apparently. Fortunately a neighbour heard screams and called the police. They broke the front door down and found them both lying just inside.’ He walked back to the desk and sat down again.

‘I only saw her a couple of days ago. We went to a meeting in town together. She seemed really optimistic about things.’ She took a sip of the tea in front of her. ‘Oh God, what about George? That poor little boy. What will he do if she dies?’ She was crying now. How much had she cried in the last few days? Drake passed her a tissue.

‘Well let’s hope for all our sakes that she doesn’t…’

‘For all our sakes? You mean for your own bloody sake. For the sake of this bloody firm…’ She had so many emotions surfacing at once she just couldn’t control them all.

‘The firm that pays your wages young lady, don’t forget that. And yes, we really could do without the publicity that comes with this kind of thing. But it’s happened now, and we’ll deal with it. As I say, it’s not your fault, but it would be better for everyone, obviously, if she pulls through.’ He was assertive but not angry, aware that the girl sat before him was battling with her conscience.

‘I feel so guilty. I should have applied for a non-molestation order to restrain him before it went too far. I knew he was violent, I knew that he’d already hurt George and I knew he’d been harassing her. What more did I bloody well need, a sodding dead body?’

‘Chloe, go home. I’ll pass the file on to Ray…’

‘No!’ she barked. ‘Not Ray. I mean, don’t pass it on. I want to deal with it. I need to make sure that George’s interests are protected. I know more about this case than anyone else.’

Drake stood up again and paced across the room again, thinking. He seemed genuinely unsure as to the best thing to do.

‘Okay,’ he agreed at last. ‘You keep the file, but I still want you to go home now. Come back tomorrow and we’ll have a chat about it in the morning.’

She stood up and walked to the door, still dabbing her eyes with the tissue.

‘And Chloe?’

She turned to look at him.

‘It really wasn’t your fault.’

She nodded, giving him the best half-smile she could muster, and then left the room.

Maybe not, but I’ll make damned sure that George is well looked after now.

58

Chloe turned the key in the front door and pushed it open. She was home early for the second day in succession and she knew her father was going to have a lot of questions. She loved living with him, but just very now and again she longed for the privacy and independence that would come with having her own place.

‘I know I know, please don’t go on dad,’ she begged as he looked up from his chair in the lounge. ‘I’ve had another shit day and I just need some space. I’ve got another cracking headache. I’ll be going back in tomorrow and things will settle down soon, I promise.’

She continued on to the kitchen before he had chance to reply. She knew his injured leg would prevent him following her immediately and she felt guilty that she was using it in that way. There was a pot of tea on the side and she poured herself a mug full. As she sipped at it she took in the view from the kitchen window. Her eyes wandered off into the distant fields and she wished for a moment that she could do the same. Grateful that her father had allowed her a few minutes to herself, she returned to the lounge and sat down opposite him.

‘Dad, I’m sorry. I just don’t want to have to explain everything to you. It’s just work and it will improve.’

‘Okay love, as long as you’re sure. Here, do you want a biscuit with that?’ He offered her a packet of custard creams and she took one.

‘Thanks.’ She smiled. ‘Dad, I’ve been thinking about what you were saying the other day. About me not having to stay at this firm. I know I’ve only been there a couple of weeks but I really don’t think it’s going to work out in the long run. I’ve had a particularly awful start, and things will get better, but I reckon it’s always going to be very different to where I was before.’

Her father smiled. ‘I think that’s the right choice, love.’

‘I can’t hand my notice in yet. I’ll have to stick it out for a few months, but I’m going to start looking around and getting some ideas about what I want to do next. I think I still want to do family law, but a smaller firm would suit me better. It’s just a little bit too business-like for me there, a bit cold, if you know what I mean?’

‘If you’re really unhappy there, why not just tell them to stick it now? What are they gonna do if you don’t go back, come and find you?’ It occurred to her that she didn’t know the answer to that question. Would they just let her leave? What about Crawford and Peters, what would they do if she left the firm? She felt guilty for the second time as she thought about all the things that she hadn’t told her father, not least the cash that was sitting in her account. It was the main reason she hadn’t been to the police, but she also knew that was exactly why it had been deposited in the first place.

‘That is tempting dad, but I think it’s easier to get a job if I already have a job and anyway, I might need a reference from them, so I don’t want to burn too many bridges.’

‘Well keep thinking about it. You know we can manage on my pension if you do decide that you’ve had enough. Anyway, what are you going to do now? Get some rest?’

‘No, I’m feeling okay actually; my headache’s gone off a little. I think I’ll pop down to the hospital and see one of my clients who’s had a bit of an accident. I’ll take the car if that’s okay, so I won’t be long.’

‘Be my guest.’

Chloe had no idea whether she’d be allowed to see Chelsie or not, but she thought she’d take a chance. She grabbed the car keys and headed off back into the city.

59

The Timer stopped and looked up at the front of the club. He’d been here many times before but this felt like a watershed moment. He wasn’t entirely sure what was going to happen inside, or even what he wanted to happen. The best case scenario would probably be an apology from Drabble and an explanation that the whole thing had been some kind of terrible mistake. But did Drabble ever apologise, had he ever bothered to explain anything to anybody? The Timer knew the answer to that question, and he briefly touched the outline of his hunting knife inside his jacket for reassurance.

He paced up to the main door of the club and pushed it open. As he walked inside, Mickey looked up from the bar, his usual grin replaced by a puzzled frown.

‘You’re a wanted man, you know. Drabble’s fucking livid. I’d do one if I were you before he sees you.’

‘Hi Mickey. Yeah, thanks for the warning, but I need to ask Mr Drabble a few questions. Is he in?’

‘Yeah, he’s in the office. Are you sure you know what you’re doing mate?’ Mickey’s face showed real concern for his friend. Most people treated him like dirt but the Timer had always shown him respect, always stopped to chat, had the odd game of snooker. He appreciated that, and it meant far more than the few hundred quid that Drabble threw his way from time to time.

‘I’ll be fine, Mickey. It’s just a chat I want. Just a few answers, that’s all. I’m not looking for trouble.’

He approached the sturdy wooden door behind the bar and banged his fist once in the centre, entering before anyone could reply. Drabble was sat behind his desk, and Jez was hovering in the corner. Whatever they had been discussing, the conversation ended abruptly. Drabble gawped as if he’d seen a ghost.

‘Well, well, well. What the fucking hell do we have here then? I have to say, Mr T, you’ve got some balls, turning up here like this. Where’s my fucking package?’ He stared in such a way that his eyes seemed to grow too large for his face.

‘Yeah T,’ added Jez, ‘what the fuck is going on?’

The Timer grinned and held his hands out in front of him, trying hard to stay composed, but also determined to keep everyone else calm.

‘Gentlemen, please. I’ve come to ask you exactly the same question. You sent me out to retrieve some drugs, like I’ve done many times for you before, and what do I find in the truck? Not drugs, but a child. A fucking child! What the hell do you want with a child? I never had you lot down as paedophiles.’

Drabble stood up. ‘We’re not. I’d castrate the fucking lot of ‘em and you know it. This isn’t about that, it’s some kind of adoption racket. I don’t know the details; we were just passing the kid on to the Kirklands. They’re the ones who are organising this whole thing.’

The Timer couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘Adoption? You mean rich wankers buying kids for their own satisfaction? How the fuck is that ever gonna work? This girl I picked up must have been at least five, maybe even six years old. How do they expect to stop her telling someone? There’s no way this thing can work.’

Drabble looked surprised. ‘Six? She was meant to be younger - two or three. Those bloody idiots, all they had to do was pick up a young Dutch girl and…’

‘Dutch? This girl was definitely not Dutch. As English as they come in fact. Looks like your boys messed up big style.’ The Timer started to realise that Drabble and his gang were not as organised nor as professional as he’d thought. They were clearly out of their league with this latest arrangement, and the Kirklands would ride roughshod over the lot of them when the truth came out.

Drabble tried harder to hide his surprise this time, but the anger was clear to see. ‘I’ll deal with those two later. How the hell did they manage to go all the way to Amsterdam and come back with an English child? For fuck’s sake, how did that happen?’

He looked at Jez but wasn’t expecting an answer. Pacing up and down now, the lines on his face told the story of a very agitated man.

‘Fuck it, there’s nothing we can do about all that now. I don’t really care as long as we get paid. Now listen to me, the Kirklands are coming back in a few days, so we need to get the child here before then. Where is she now?’

And there it was; the question that was destined to be the turning point of the meeting. The Timer looked down at his feet to avoid Drabble’s stare and to buy himself some time, and only then realised that he was stood on a sheet of plastic. They must have laid this out on the off-chance that he’d come round. He’d seen them use it before. Levelling his eyes back to Drabble’s face, the sneer he saw confirmed to him what was about to happen.

60

Chloe pulled up outside the Northern General Hospital in the north of Sheffield. A sprawling complex of traditional brick-built buildings and modern glass structures, it was a huge, maze-like place to navigate. Having parked her car, Chloe headed into the first building she came across and enquired at the reception desk about Chelsie. After a quick search on the computer she was directed to the appropriate building.

On arrival at the correct department Chloe headed to the ward. As she walked the long white corridor a shiver travelled up her back. It might have been the cold, but she had always had a dislike of these places. She was just seven when her mother first became ill and then received her devastating diagnosis. They quickly learned that the cancer had spread and that her mother would be unlikely to live beyond a year or so. And time proved them right. Chloe said her last goodnight to her mother when she was eight years old, and her father brought her the news the next day that she was gone.

There had been many trips to the hospital; this hospital at first, and then to the specialist cancer hospital in Sheffield. They were lucky to have such expertise on their doorstep, and it made the hospital visits easier, but still fruitless in the end. And those visits had scarred her, instilled into her a dislike of hospitals. Of course she knew they did good things, and the people who worked inside them deserved all the plaudits they received. But for Chloe, a hospital would only ever mean one thing. Death.

She continued down the corridor until she found the intensive treatment unit. She stopped and took a deep breath before pushing open the door and heading over to the reception.

‘Can I help you?’ the voice belonged to a woman in her fifties who reminded her visually of Gloria on the firm’s own reception, but who was apparently far more pleasant.

‘Hi, yes, I’m here to see Chelsie Swanson please.’

‘Are you a relative madam?’

That caught Chloe by surprise, but she considered that a little white lie was nothing in the scheme of things, especially when she reminded herself of what she’d been involved in over the last couple of weeks.

‘Erm, yes, of course, I’m her sister Chloe. Chloe Swanson.’

‘Oh, right. Well I’m afraid she’s in an induced coma at the moment and can’t have any visitors. But you’re welcome to go down the corridor there and look through the glass. Let me just warn you that there are lots of wires and tubes, but it always looks worse than it is.’

Chloe didn’t agree; she remembered her mother looking beautiful until the night she died. In her case it certainly didn’t look worse than it was.

‘Thank you.’ She entered the corridor which the receptionist had pointed out to her. On the left there was a glass panel and Chloe braced herself as she walked out in front of it and looked into the room.

Even the receptionist’s warning could not have prepared her for what she saw. A ventilator handled the breathing and there were other tubes and wires all around the young girl, like something from a science fiction film. Chelsie looked so small and frail on the huge hospital bed surrounded by overwhelming machinery. Chloe steadied herself on the small ledge that ran under the window. She rested her forehead on the glass and stared.

How could anyone do this to such a defenceless young girl?

Thoughts of George entered her head and tears pricked her eyes. Surely he wasn’t going to lose his mother as she had lost hers all those years ago; she would never wish that on anyone. And he had no father to provide support as her own father had done. Chelsie had to pull through, she had to.

‘Excuse me, miss, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.’

Chloe looked up to see a hospital security guard heading towards her with a doctor by his side. She knew she’d been rumbled and didn’t want to make a fuss.

‘I’m sorry, I’m just a friend of Chelsie’s and I had to see her. I’ll go now. I’m sorry.’ She hurried down the corridor and past the burly security guard, who made no effort to stop her.

61

The Timer placed his hand on the lower front part of his jacket and felt the reassuring shape of the hunting knife hiding in the sheath on his belt. He knew Drabble kept guns on the premises but he also knew they were routinely locked away out of harm’s way. Only Mickey was out in the bar and he was confident that the young lad wasn’t about to burst in and start shooting.

‘Well? Where the fuck is she?’ repeated Drabble. ‘What have you done with her?’

‘I wasn’t expecting a child, Drabble. Jez never mentioned a child. I don’t want to be mixed up in anything to do with kids.’ The Timer glanced over towards Jez who was just out of his line of sight. He thought he saw him reach for something in the corner of the room.

‘Yeah, yeah, you said. So where is she? I won’t ask again.’

The Timer knew he had no choice but to come clean. He suspected that Drabble already knew he didn’t have the child.

‘She’s safe,’ he said, simply.

‘Safe? You mean you’ve got her somewhere safe?’

‘No, I mean she’s safe from you wankers.’

Drabble shook his head in resignation. He picked up the phone and waited.

‘Mickey? Lock up will you? We’re closed for the day.’

The Timer wasn’t aware that Jez had stalked round behind him, but he was certainly aware of the pain that shot up his leg as Jez smashed his knee with a baseball bat.

Drabble looked down at him as he lay on the plastic sheet. ‘You were good Mr T. I’m sorry it has to end this way, I really am.’ He sat down and nodded to Jez.

Mickey heard the screams from the bar. He tried to ignore it and carried on washing some glasses he’d just collected from the snooker hall. After a minute or two there was silence, then he could hear raised voices coming through the door.

Fuck it, I need to know what’s going on.

He didn’t even bother to knock as he stumbled through into the office.

‘Ah Mickey, late for the fight as usual I see? Well, at least you’re here now. As you can see, we need a hand with this,’ ordered Drabble, motioning towards the body lying on the sheet.

Mickey looked down at the Timer. There was no sign of life and blood was spattered across the plastic. He’d have struggled to recognise the man on the floor if he hadn’t seen him arrive. Jez had done a thorough job on him.

‘I guess he had it coming,’ he said, his voice shaking with the words, unable to take his eyes off the body on the floor.

‘Too fucking right he did. Messed up big time, and for the last time. Get rid of the body Mickey.’

‘Yes, boss. Usual place Jez?’

Jez looked a little crazed. He was still breathing heavily and a few splatters of blood had been smeared across his face. Slowly he raised his eyes from the body and looked at Mickey.

‘Yeah, whatever. Just make sure he isn’t found,’ said Jez at last.

‘Check he’s dead before you go, Mickey.’ Drabble turned and stared out the window. There seemed to be a sense of regret lingering in the air.

Mickey placed his fingers on the Timer’s neck and felt for a pulse. He was never any good at this. He couldn’t feel anything and moved his fingers around a little to double check.

And there it was. Faint, and slow, but he’d found the sign of life he was hoping for.

‘Yep, he’s dead,’ he said. ‘I’ll get him out of here.’

Hold on in there my friend. Just hold on in there.

62

Drabble continued to stare out the window of his office, but saw nothing. His mind was elsewhere, disturbed only by the rustling of the plastic being folded over and then a shuffle as it was dragged across the floor and out into the bar. Jez closed the door and sat down in front of the desk, and only then did Drabble turn round and take his own seat.

‘What a fucking mess,’ he said, looking at Jez. ‘We need to find a replacement child. Did you call that contact you have at the council? Didn’t you say he had some waifs and strays hanging around? He could probably lose one without anyone noticing couldn’t he?’

Jez sighed. ‘I did, yeah. He seemed to think he could help us, at the right price of course.’

‘I can understand that. How much does he want?’

‘Five grand.’

‘Sounds reasonable. There’s five in the safe. Get it over to him as soon as you can. We need to get moving on this. If the Kirklands arrive here and we haven’t got a child for them we’re all fucked.’

‘Yeah. Right, I’ll get on it. He’s a good lad this contact of mine. He’s already got a kid lined up for us, but there is a slight problem.’

‘Jez, I don’t want to know about problems. It’s all I fucking hear at the moment.’ Drabble’s voice began to rise again.

‘I know, I know,’ said Jez trying to keep his boss calm. ‘It’s just this kid - it’s a boy, not a girl like the one we lost.’

Drabble sat back in his chair thinking. He rubbed his chin and looked across at Jez.

‘Christ, we’ll look like a right load of Muppets. Well there’s not much we can do about it now. They never mentioned a girl to me when we were sorting this thing out. They only ever spoke about a kid.’

‘And obviously he’s not Dutch.’

‘I guessed as much. The buyers might be a bit upset, but I don’t suppose Stevie Kirkland will give a fuck about that. No, it’ll be fine. Give your contact the cash and make arrangements to get this new kid over here. Nice one Jez.’

‘No problem boss.’

‘And Jez? Keep Mickey out of it will you? I can’t risk anything going wrong this time.’

‘Okay boss.’

Jez made his way into the bar and looked around for Mickey. There was no sign of him.

He’s keen, thought Jez. He’s probably already dumped the body in the reservoir.

63

Chloe arrived at work determined to put the events of the last few days out of her mind. She had files that needed her attention and she knew she’d been neglecting some of her other clients recently. For now, there was nothing she could do for Chelsie or George, so there was little point thinking about them.

Of course, this proved more difficult than it sounded, and although she cleared some outstanding matters, the morning was not as productive as she’d hoped, and her mind kept drifting to Chelsie lying in hospital with all those tubes and wires.

‘Well hello there.’ It was Ben, and his smile made her feel instantly better.

‘Hi Ben, how are you?’

‘Oh I’m fine, but how are you?’ He pulled up a chair from the empty desk next to Chloe’s and sat down. ‘I heard about your client Chelsie Swanson. Sounds like a right mess. I thought you might not have been in today.’

‘Well, there’s no point dwelling on it at home. I went to see her last night at the hospital. She looks awful. I honestly can’t see her getting through it. I just keep thinking about poor George.’

‘That’s her son, right?’

‘Yes, he’s safely at his grandmother’s house but I do worry about what will happen if she doesn’t pull through.’ Chloe pulled a tissue out of her pocket and dabbed her eyes.

‘I know it’s hard, but it’s best not to let it get to you. You can’t become emotionally involved in all your cases, or you’ll be a wreck by the time you’re thirty.’

She knew he was right, but she found it impossible not to care about these people. She’d always been protective of vulnerable people. She’d faced up to bullies at school and had made friends with kids who no one else wanted to know. It was part of who she was, and also the main reason she’d become a lawyer.

‘Let’s just hope she’s okay,’ she said simply.

‘Fancy going out tonight? How about a nice quiet meal? Or I could just come over to your place for a bit if you’re not up to it?’ He looked concerned as he stared at her, and she liked that he looked concerned.

‘Yeah, okay. Come over about seven. I’ll cook something, and my dad keeps going on about wanting to meet you properly.’

‘Ah, the protective father thing is it? Great, I’ll see you about seven then…’

Her phone rang and as she answered she waved at Ben. He returned the gesture and headed off back to his desk.

‘Hello, Chloe Webster speaking.’

‘Yes, hello, my name is Mr Lightbody and I’m calling from the local authority. I understand you act for Chelsie Swanson?’ The voice sounded distant and casual.

‘Yes, I do.’ Chloe wondered what this was all about. They’d only agreed recently to leave George in his grandmother’s care for a while.

‘It’s about the child… erm… George I think. Yes, George. In the light of the fact that his mother is unlikely to be able to care for him for some time the decision has been taken to place him into foster care sooner than had been anticipated. Tomorrow in fact. Parents have been found and the paperwork will be sorted down here at these offices. We’d like you to attend on his behalf.’ Chloe couldn’t believe how little emotion there was in the voice that was saying these words.

‘But he’s safe at his grandmother’s house, and happy too. He’s familiar with the surroundings and she’s only too pleased to have him there for as long as it takes for his mother to get better.’ Nothing sounded right about this to Chloe.

‘Hmm, if she gets better. Anyway, as I say, Miss Webster, the decision has been made. We’ll see you at eleven tomorrow.’

‘But this isn’t right; it’s not the best thing for George. Surely you can…’

Shit.

The line went dead. He’d hung up on her. Chloe took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down. She’d have to sort it all out tomorrow when she went to the meeting. There must have been some kind of mistake.

64

A sharp splintering pain ran through his head and down his left leg. The Timer attempted to open his eyes but his left eye refused point blank to co-operate. He looked around as best he could and saw immediately that he was in a bedroom, but not one he recognised. The walls were painted a pale, neutral colour and the few pieces of furniture dotted around the place were tatty and mismatched. Although the curtains were drawn he could see daylight creeping in around the edges.

Memories of the attack came back to him easily. He hadn’t seen it coming, but he knew it was Jez, on Drabble’s orders. The look in Jez’s eyes had convinced him he wasn’t going to wake up again, but here he was, and now he needed to work out how badly he was hurt. And then work out where the hell he was.

He lifted his arms into the air above him. His left arm was much worse and was very badly bruised. He could just about move it around but it caused him to grimace as pain roared through his nerves. The other arm was painful too but not as bad and he certainly had the full range of movement in it. Neither arm seemed to be broken, though he couldn’t be sure of course. He rolled over to the edge of the bed and planted his feet on the floor. Pain shot up his back but it was manageable and eased as he stretched it. The main concern was his left leg. He was sure it must be broken and the pain was constant and intense. His head was the other worry. There was no mirror in this room but he knew his face must be a mess. The pillow on which he had been resting was heavily blood-stained, and again the pain was extreme. He sat on the edge of the bed and wondered if he could stand.

The distant sound of a key in a lock encouraged him to sit still and listen. He decided he must be upstairs and that it was a front door he could hear. The murmur of voices was followed by the unmistakeable sound of footsteps making their way upstairs. The door to the bedroom opened and Mickey came in grinning, followed closely by a man in a suit that the Timer had never seen before.

‘You’re awake then Mr T? I thought you’d be dead by this morning.’ Mickey came across as more self-assured and confident than he’d ever done before. ‘This is Doctor Obelade. He owes me a favour or two. We can trust him.’

The doctor was an overweight black man with a kindly face, dressed formally and carrying what could only be described as a doctor’s bag. He smiled and helped the Timer back into bed.

‘Bloody hell Mickey, am I pleased to see you. Where am I?’

‘My place. Drabble thinks you’re at the bottom of Ladybower reservoir.’

The doctor started to examine the Timer, moving his limbs around slowly and asking where the pain was and what it felt like.

‘And why aren’t I Mickey? At the bottom of the reservoir I mean?’

‘Come on Mr T. We’ve always been good mates haven’t we? Drabble and Jez treat me like shit, and it didn’t seem right what they did to you. When I realised you weren’t dead I knew I had to help you. I brought you straight here and you’ve slept since then. I had a job getting you up them stairs though. I reckon most of your bruises are from that.’

The Timer smiled and then grimaced with pain. The doctor was now examining his head and for the first time a look of concern had spread across his face.

‘So what are you gonna do now,’ Mickey continued. ‘You can’t let them get away with this Mr T.’

‘I don’t know, Mickey. I’ll probably just leave it. Move away maybe, you know, out of harm’s way. I don’t want Drabble to find out I’m still alive.’

He needed to be a little careful what he said to Mickey of course, who was still employed by Drabble as far as he knew. But he wouldn’t be moving away. And he wouldn’t let them get away with it. He still had his revenge to exact, and this time there’d be no mistake.

The doctor finished his examination and delivered his verdict.

‘You’ve been very fortunate, sir. Your arms and your left leg are badly bruised but nothing is broken. Your head is also very badly hurt, but you must have a thick skull to have survived what was clearly a vicious attack. Ideally I’d like you to have a scan, but I suspect you won’t want to go to hospital. I’ll leave you some painkillers, but other than that, you just need rest.’

‘Thanks doctor, I appreciate it. I’m going to need all my strength soon.’

Mickey stared at the Timer. He knew his friend well. He respected him as a loyal man and one who maintained certain standards. There was no way he would let this lie. And he just hoped he could be there when Drabble and Jez were finally dealt with.

65

Chloe opened the door and welcomed Ben into the hallway with a hug. He shook his umbrella and placed it on the rack behind the door.

‘It really is foul out there,’ he said, dripping rain onto the carpet. ‘I’m soaked just coming from the car. Sorry about all the water.’

‘Don’t worry about it. Here, let me take your coat. I’ll pop it on the radiator to dry. Go on through to the kitchen. My dad’s in there, and dinner is nearly ready.’

Her father looked up from the newspaper he was reading at the kitchen table as Ben entered the room. He welcomed him to his home and shook his hand, offering him a seat.

‘Can I get you a beer or something Ben?’

‘Yes, why not, I’ll have whatever you’ve got there,’ he replied, pointing at the half empty glass of light brown liquid on the table. Ben looked around the homely room. Dominated by the wooden table, it had the feel of a farmhouse kitchen, like it was the centre of the house and the room which was used most often.

Chloe came into the kitchen and got to work on the dinner, while her father poured a beer for Ben, chatting to the younger man as he did.

‘So what are you lot doing to my little girl at that law firm of yours? Not had an easy start there has she?’ He said it with a smile but he was interested to hear the response.

‘Dad! Ben isn’t here to talk about work.’

‘It’s okay Chloe, I’m sure your dad’s worried about what’s been going on. Actually sir, I don’t really have much to do with the things that Chloe works on, so I can’t really tell you anything. But I know she’s a damn good lawyer and things will settle down soon I’m sure.’

Chloe could see her father’s look and knew he was about to push it.

‘Dad. No more about work, okay?’

‘I couldn’t help noticing your limp, sir,’ said Ben as Chloe’s father hobbled back to the table with his beer. ‘Do you mind me asking what caused it?’

Chloe was surprised by the question but didn’t read too much into it. She was just pleased that the conversation had moved on.

‘Not at all son, it’s no great secret. It happened in the army, a good while back, but it still gives me trouble now and again when it flares up.’ It was a natural instinct now for him to rub his leg whenever he thought about it.

‘So did you get shot or something?’ Ben sounded almost too interested.

‘Aye son, I did. But not whilst being a hero or anything like that I’m afraid. Got shot by one of our lads on the training ground. First time this boy had used live rounds and he forgot everything he’d been taught. Somehow managed to fire his rifle in my direction. Next thing I knew I was on the floor and I couldn’t get up and that was more or less the end of my army career. They moved me to desk duties for a while but eventually I had to leave. That was about seven years ago now.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Ben. ‘So how’s your mobility now? Do you struggle to get around?’

‘Oh I manage. Just don’t expect me at the next Olympics, that’s all.’

Ben smiled. ‘Thanks Chloe, that looks great.’

Chloe had served the dinner and she sat down at the table with them.

‘You’re welcome. I hope you like pasta?’

‘Yeah, it’s one of my favourites. So, just the two of you live here do you?’

Chloe looked across at her father, who smiled and nodded subtly at her.

‘Yes, it’s just us two isn’t it, dad? My mum died when I was young, and my brother lives down south.’

‘I see.’ Ben seemed very matter of fact about it and for a moment Chloe felt the conversation had become a little like an interrogation. Ben seemed to notice the look she gave him and changed the subject. Soon the three of them were chatting about all kinds of things, laughing and joking as they did, and Chloe forgot all about the incident.

At the end of the evening Chloe showed Ben to the front door. She helped him with his coat, which had dried in the warmth, and again he gave her a hug, thanking her for the invite and the meal.

As he walked out into the night, Chloe couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed.

When is he going to kiss me?

66

Chloe woke a little later than usual. She was due at the local authority’s offices by eleven this morning, but wanted to check on Chelsie at the hospital on her way. That still left her plenty of time for a rather leisurely breakfast.

On arrival at the hospital she approached the reception desk with caution, knowing that she wouldn’t be allowed to see Chelsie, and she certainly wasn’t going to start lying about who she was again.

‘Good morning,’ she said to the receptionist, accompanied by her widest smile. ‘I’m a friend of Chelsie Swanson and was wondering how she was. I know you probably can’t tell me much, but is there any change in her condition? Please, I’d be grateful for anything you can tell me.’

‘Yes, I remember you,’ said the receptionist icily. ‘I thought you were sisters.’

‘Yes, I’m really sorry about that. I just needed to see her, to make sure she was okay. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.’

The receptionist could see how concerned she was and her attitude seemed to thaw a little.

‘Listen, we have rules. It’s strictly family only in this department. But I can tell you that I heard the doctors talking earlier. It seems she is still in a serious condition but stable. It could be a lot worse, you know.’

Chloe thought about it for a moment. She knew she was in a bad way, so the important part was that she was stable. That had to be a good thing. It sounded like she was out of danger, at least for the time being.

‘Thank you so much for your help. I don’t suppose there’s any chance I could just take a quick peep through the window?’ She knew she was pushing her luck.

‘I’m sorry but I can’t let you do that. It’s probably best that you leave now after the events of the other day.’ She said it in a friendly voice and Chloe appreciated it.

‘Yes, of course. Thanks again.’

Chloe left the hospital and as she travelled into town to the offices of the local authority she thought about George. She still couldn’t believe that they were going to put him into foster care. He was happy and safe at his grandmother’s house. In fact, he was safe anywhere now that Chelsie’s ex-boyfriend was dead. Nothing seemed right to Chloe about this, and she intended to find out exactly what was going on.

On entering the offices of the local authority, she rang the buzzer and a lady appeared from behind a wooden door blazoned with the word private. Smartly dressed with neat grey hair and half-moon spectacles, her mannerisms reminded Chloe of a timid animal.

‘Hello, how can I help you?’

‘Hi, my name is Chloe Webster. I’m a solicitor from Anderson, Gormley and Drake and I’m here about George Swanson. I think I need to speak to a Mr Lightbody?’

‘Oh yes, please come with me, they’re waiting for you upstairs.’

Chloe followed the lady through the private door and up a flight of rather ornate wooden stairs. They led up to a wide hallway with several offices around, all with large windows looking back out into the hallway. It reminded her a little of her own offices in its layout, but it was all rather old-fashioned. Wood panelling sat below and around the windows into the offices, and vertical blinds were fitted to each window, some of which were pulled across, although they weren’t in a good state of repair and Chloe caught glimpses of the occupants as they passed behind gaps in the blinds.

The office in front of her had the blinds pulled apart and she could see two suited men sat at a desk deep in conversation. Her eyes were attracted to the corner of the room and to a young boy dressed in a bright orange fleece. He was knelt over a large cardboard box, digging deep inside to find his next toy.

That must be George, thought Chloe, immediately feeling protective of the small child. She could see a clear resemblance to Chelsie.

One of the men beckoned them through the glass and the lady opened the door to allow Chloe to enter the room.

‘This is Miss Webster. Would you like a cup of tea, dear?’

‘No thank you,’ said Chloe. She walked passed the desk and over to the young boy. Kneeling down beside him, she managed not to show any reaction to the bruises that were still evident on his face.

‘Hello George,’ she said. ‘My name’s Chloe. I’m one of your mummy’s friends and she sent me here to make sure you’re okay. Have you found some good toys in there?’

George looked at her and held out a wooden tractor he had retrieved from the box. She instinctively took it from him and rolled it along the floor.

‘I’d love to play, George, but I just need to talk to these men first. I won’t be long.’ She smiled as he dived back down into the box for another toy.

Chloe walked over to the desk, sat down and looked across at the two men. ‘So gentlemen, who is going to tell me just what the hell is going on here?’

67

Jack stood outside the offices of Anderson, Gormley and Drake. Although the question had occupied his thoughts for the entirety of his journey here, he had yet to convince himself why he was here or what he was going to do once he was inside, but what he did know was that his daughter was having a very tough time in this place, and he needed to convince himself that everything was okay.

He hobbled over to the main entrance, a patient queue forming behind him as he shuffled steadily along with the rotating door. He approached the reception desk and eased his weight against it for support. An efficient looking lady noticed him and came over smiling.

‘Good morning sir, how can I help you?’

‘Good morning. Erm, my name is Mr Webster. I’m Chloe Webster’s father…’

‘Oh hello, it’s nice to meet you, sir. Chloe seems to have settled in very well. Did you want to speak to her? She’s actually out at a meeting at the moment. She’s due back here around lunchtime I think, but you’re very welcome to wait for her.’

‘No, no. Thank you. I actually wondered if Ben was in. I can’t remember his surname I’m afraid, but he knows me. He works with Chloe, or at least, in the same department as her. Is he around? I won’t keep him long.’ He winced as pain started to reverberate up his leg; standing still for too long always caused him discomfort.

‘Are you okay? Would you like to take a seat over there and I’ll see if I can find him?’ She pointed to some rather low looking chairs surrounding a coffee table piled high with newspapers. Jack smiled and limped over to the waiting area. He sat down and it crossed his mind that he might not be able to get up again from such a low starting point. Looking around the reception area, he was impressed by the image it presented. His daughter had certainly done well to land a job here, and as he watched people come and go, pride welled up inside him.

‘Hello Mr Webster, my name’s Ray. I work with Chloe. I’m afraid Ben’s tied up at the moment. Is there something I can help you with?’

The name was familiar and he was sure Chloe had talked about someone called Ray. If he remembered correctly, she didn’t like him much, although he had to admit he couldn’t instantly see why that would be the case. He seemed like a very pleasant young man.

‘You might be able to, although I really wanted to speak to Ben.’

‘Well, perhaps we can go into a meeting room and have a chat until Ben comes down. I’ve left a note on his desk.’

Jack nodded and tried to stand up but his leg wasn’t having any of it.

‘Sorry, I can’t… these chairs are a little low…’

‘Oh right, yes of course, here, let me help.’

Ray held out his hand and pulled Jack firmly to his feet.

‘Thanks. I shouldn’t have sat there in the first place.’ He smiled and Ray laughed.

‘I struggle myself to be honest sir. My knees aren’t what they used to be.’

Ray showed Jack over to the meeting room and chatted politely about the weather, and football and one or two other things. Jack found himself really liking this lad, and if he was one of the worst things about this place, then it couldn’t be that bad. After a while, he felt comfortable enough to broach the subject of his daughter.

‘Ray, the reason I’m here is that Chloe seems to be finding things a little tough. I can’t really believe I’m here and I know she’d kill me if she found out, but it’s worrying me. I planned to just speak to Ben, because I’ve met him, but I didn’t know how to get in touch with him.’

‘Mr Webster, Chloe’s doing really well here. I like her. She has a great attitude and she tells me where to go if she doesn’t like something. I just want to do the best job I can for my clients, and Chloe has the same outlook. We’ll never be best friends, but we make a good team. In time, I’m sure Chloe will see that.’ He smiled. ‘Please don’t tell her what I’ve said.’

Jack laughed just as there was a knock at the door. Ben came in and looked at Jack.

‘Thanks Ray, I’ll deal with this.’

‘Oh, okay Ben. You know Chloe’s father don’t you?’

‘Yes I do,’ he snapped, and held the door open for Ray.

68

‘Miss Webster, allow me to conduct some introductions. My name is Nigel Lightbody and I work here at the local authority. I think we spoke on the telephone yesterday.’ Chloe didn’t like him already. He was too self-assured; too confident for her liking. He had perfectly groomed hair which looked oily, and a suit which seemed far too expensive for someone in his job. Chloe felt like she was struggling for clean air over the smell of someone’s aftershave.

‘Yes, we did, but…’

‘Please, let me finish. This is my colleague Colin Higginbottom. Colin, this is Chloe Webster from Anderson, Gormley and Drake solicitors.’

Colin looked friendly enough, and he reached a hand across the table which Chloe decided would be churlish to ignore. He had a good, firm handshake and she decided he was probably a decent bloke.

I must stop going on first impressions.

‘Right, thank you. Now, why on earth do you think it’s necessary to move George away from his grandmother? In my experience that would be really unusual. Surely he’s better off with his family?’ Chloe was determined to get a full explanation for what was happening here. She thought again of Chelsie lying in that hospital bed and knew that she was Chelsie’s voice at a time when she could not speak for herself. She couldn’t fight for her only child and so someone had to do it on her behalf, and that someone was Chloe.

‘As I said on the telephone, the decision has been made. There’s nothing we can do about it now and therefore no reason to go over it all again. It’s better all round if we just…’

‘Hang on, what do you mean, go over it all again. I’m still waiting to hear it the first time. Telling me that a decision has been made doesn’t really do it for me to be honest. Who made the decision? You?’ Chloe could feel the anger building up inside her but knew that she had to remain professional, not least for the sake of George, who was happily playing in the corner, seemingly oblivious to what was going on.

‘I really can’t go into the details of the decision Miss Webster, suffice to say the decision has been made and that’s that. Now, we need to move things on. The foster parents are here and so we just need to get a few things signed.’

Higginbottom leaned over in his chair towards the other man. Lightbody moved closer and a brief whispered conversation took place which Chloe found even more irritating. Lightbody nodded and then continued talking to Chloe.

‘Yes, in fact just the foster father is here to collect the child. Now, shall we get on with it Miss Webster?’

‘George will of course be removed from foster care once his mother wakes up.’

‘If she wakes up, Miss Webster…’

‘For goodness sake George is sitting just over there. Listen to what you’re saying will you.’ Chloe was exasperated with the man. ‘Have some thought for the boy.’

‘Well the news we have from the hospital is not good, that’s all I’m saying. I suspect that in reality this will be the first step to a permanent adoption of the child.’

For just a moment Chloe found it hard to disagree with the words she was hearing. Chelsie was certainly in a bad way and from what she had seen it would be some kind of miracle if she made a full enough recovery to look after herself, never mind a young child.

‘Right, I’ll go and see if the father is ready. Please bear with me.’ Lightbody stood up and disappeared through an opaque glass door in the back of the office which closed behind him. Chloe looked across at Higginbottom, who shuffled the papers on the table in front of him uncomfortably and refused to make eye contact with her.

‘Can you tell me anything more about what’s going on here? Do you agree that it’s unusual?’ Chloe leaned on the desk and spoke in a soft voice, hoping to reason with the man who she thought was the good guy. ‘Please, I need to make sure this is the best thing for George.’

‘I don’t know the answer to your questions Miss Webster. I’m sorry but I really don’t. This isn’t exactly normal but as Mr Lightbody says, the decision has been made.’ He continued to look down at the desk and pretended to read something.

Chloe knew she wasn’t going to make any progress and pressing the point certainly wouldn’t change that. It was obvious that Lightbody was in charge around here and Higginbottom was just there to fill a chair and tick some boxes. She sat back and sighed as the door to the office opened and Lightbody marched back in. As it slowly closed on itself, she took the chance to peer past the door into the next room, hoping to catch sight of the foster carer.

And that’s when she saw something that terrified the life out of her.

69

‘Jack, what are you doing here?’ Ben sat down and looked at Chloe’s father expectantly.

‘Hi Ben, how are you?’ Jack was surprised at what he took for an aggressive display from Ben. He assumed he’d misinterpreted the younger man’s behaviour so he kept it polite.

‘I’m fine. What is it you want, Jack? I’m a bit busy right now, and Chloe’s out at a meeting.’ No smile, no polite conversation, no respect.

Jack looked across the desk. He was an amicable guy; he didn’t like to cause a fuss and he knew what he was doing here was a little out of the ordinary, but he didn’t like the attitude coming the other way. Not one little bit.

‘Okay Ben, I appreciate that, but Chloe seems to be having a tough time here at the moment and I don’t know, I just feel that something’s not quite right about it all.’

Ben checked his watch and sighed.

‘Look Jack, it’s a stressful job. Sometimes we have to do things that we don’t like. Deal with clients we’d rather not deal with. Chloe just needs time to get used to the way things are here. She’s used to a small firm out in the sticks. It’s not like that here. Our clients have different expectations.  Different rules apply.’

Jack was no fool. He was here for reassurance and he wasn’t getting any. Had he misjudged Ben? He thought he was a nice bloke, suitable for his daughter. Maybe he wasn’t the man he’d thought he was.

‘Ben, I know this place is different to where she was before. I know there are things that she’ll need to get used to. But I’m worried about her. There’s something important bothering her and I need to know what it is. It’s not just stress, it’s more than that. I know my own daughter and she’s not herself at the moment.’

Ben leaned back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head.

‘Jack, it’s fine. There’s nothing to worry about.’

He could see he was getting nowhere here. Ben wasn’t going to give up any information easily. He made a decision which, unbeknown to him, he would live to regret; he decided to lie.

‘Listen Ben, the truth is, I know all about it. She told me everything, she always does. I know all about the dodgy deals she’s been involved with and what’s been happening here. I just want to be sure that she’s safe.’ Words, just words, but he expected a reaction.

For the first time Ben looked less than sure of himself. His hands came down from behind his head and he sat forward in his chair. He looked at Jack as if he was sizing him up for a fight.

‘What has she told you exactly Jack?’

He took a punt, not able to be too specific because of course, he actually knew nothing. ‘About the money. It worries me Ben.’ He hoped it was enough to elicit a response, and he was right.

‘Okay Jack, in that case I think there’s someone you need to meet.’

Not exactly what he’d expected but Jack was satisfied that he was making progress.

‘All right. Go and fetch them.’

‘No, they’re not here. I’ll need you to come with me. It’s just a short car journey from here, then everything will be explained and I’m sure you’ll feel better for it.’

Jack was puzzled. ‘I don’t understand. What do you mean? Who is it?’

‘It’s too complicated to explain. Come on Jack, just a quick drive and it’ll put your mind at rest I promise. What do you say?’

‘Okay then, why not? After you.’

Ben smiled for the first time.

Gotcha, he thought.

70

It was Mr Peters that she’d seen. Probably not his real name, but she knew him as the client who’d threatened to kill her and her father. There was no doubting it. She remembered his well-groomed moustache and how it ran too far down his face on each side; if he was going for the bad guy look it had worked. The office door finished its journey and closed snugly into the frame with a gentle click. But she’d seen all she needed to see. What on earth was he doing here? How was he involved in all this?

‘Is everything all right, Miss Webster?’ Lightbody had apparently noticed her staring at the door. ‘You seem a little pale.’

‘Pardon? Oh yes. Actually I could do with popping to the loo if that’s okay?’ She needed time to think, and it was the first thing that came to mind.

‘Yes, of course. It’s back out in the main hallway there, just past the stairs.’ He didn’t seem at all suspicious and so Chloe made her way out into the lobby, the cooler air instantly helping to clarify her thoughts.

Staring into the mirror in the ladies’ toilet, she began thinking quickly. What was it that Peters had spoken to her about? Wasn’t it something to do with buying houses and overseas transactions? Creating offshore trusts maybe?

Shit, he’s the one who paid the money into my account too.

She’d somehow pushed the issue of the ten thousand pounds to the back of her mind. She still had no idea what to do about it. She couldn’t return it, and she didn’t want to draw it out in cash. She was still thinking about going to the police, but the threats from Peters, and Crawford before him, and her chat with Ben, who had tried to reassure her, had all left her feeling very unsure of what to do.

A woman entered the toilets, heels clicking on the tiled floor, and locked herself in a cubicle.

Chloe knew she had to think quickly. There was no way she could hand George over to these people, not having dealt with them close up and knowing what they were like. She ran the cold tap and splashed water on her face, but it did little to ease her confusion. She felt that she owed it to Chelsie to do the best she could for George.

The woman came out of the cubicle and stood at the sink next to her. She squirted soap onto her hands and washed them briskly under the tap.

‘Are you okay love?’ She was well-presented and had an air of seniority about her, a confidence that instantly impressed and reassured. Chloe was very tempted to confide in her and ask for help.

‘Yes, thank you, I just had something in my eye. I think it’s gone now.’

Don’t trust anyone.

‘Oh you poor thing. Do you want me to have a look?’

‘No, really, I think it’s okay now. Thanks anyway.’ Please go away.

The woman smiled and made her way back out into the hallway. Chloe eyed her reflection in the mirror again. The extra time had at least helped her to reach a decision. There was nothing else she could do, and she’d known it since the moment she saw Peters.

She had to get George out of the building.

71

Chloe walked confidently back into the office. The conversation between the two men sat at the desk once again ended the moment she entered the room and Lightbody looked at her a little strangely. She assumed it was something to do with how long she’d been in the toilet thinking about her next move. Not caring what they thought, she knew she had to put her plan into action.

She addressed Lightbody. ‘Can I meet the father? Is he in there?’ She gestured to the door at the back of the room through which she’d seen Peters.

‘I don’t really think that’s necessary. He isn’t under scrutiny here. The decisions have all been made and we just need to get this done. I suggest we take George through now and send him on his way.’ Lightbody fired a sideways glance across to Higginbottom who returned the look. Chloe’s stomach was churning as the adrenaline started to take effect. Events were spiralling out of control but she knew there was only one way out of this. At least, for George there was.

‘Erm, yes, okay. Listen, George has had a tough time recently, I’m sure you understand that?’ She needed to get George alone.

‘Yes, Miss Webster, we are sorry for him that his mother is in such a bad way.’

Chloe frowned and glanced over to George, glad to see that he either wasn’t listening, or didn’t understand what was just said. There was no gain to be had in making her point to Lightbody about how insensitive his choice of words was; she had to keep him as amenable as possible for the next part of her plan.

‘I’m sure you are sorry, Mr Lightbody. My point is this, I think it would be really good for him if he and I could just spend a few minutes alone so that I can explain carefully what is about to happen. He’s likely to be scared and confused by all this.’

‘Oh that won’t be necessary, Miss Webster, we have a very experienced social worker in there to deal with all that. There really is no need for you to stay here any longer. I think we’re ready to take George now.’ He stood up as if to encourage her to leave. His words resonated in her head.

We’re ready to take George now.

It just didn’t sound right. Nothing about this was right. Panic started to take a grip as she desperately tried to find a way to get George away.

‘I need a wee-wee.’ George stood up and looked over to the desk where the adults were gathered. This was it; this was her chance.

‘I’ll take him to the ladies out in the hallway,’ said Chloe as calmly as she could, trying not to sound too eager. Higginbottom tried to hide the nudge he gave Lightbody but she saw it.

‘It’s okay Miss Webster, we’ll handle it from here.’

She stood up and looked at George with a huge smile. ‘Would you like me to take you George? Remember I told you that your mummy asked me to look after you?’

‘Miss Webster…’ Lightbody wasn’t happy, but she persevered.

‘Would you like that George? Shall we go and find the loo?’

‘Miss Webster, please…’

‘Yes,’ said George at last.’ I want Chloe to take me.’

Chloe was surprised that he’d remembered her name. She took a step towards him and clasped his hand in hers and, oblivious to the frustration of the two men, she whisked him out of the office into the hallway. As she approached the door to the toilets, she glanced back to see that Lightbody had disappeared into the back office again. Higginbottom was staring at the papers on the desk, head in hands. She pulled George away from the entrance to the toilets and instead yanked him through the door to the stairway.

‘It’s down here, George,’ she said, as reassuringly as possible while dragging him as fast as she thought he could safely go.

‘Okay Chloe.’

They piled into the main reception area, such as there was one, and then out into the street. The heavy rain instantly soaked them and George suddenly started to look puzzled. Chloe knew they only had a few minutes before they would be missed. She looked up and down the busy city centre street. A taxi approached from her left and she stepped out into the road to hail it.

‘Taxi!’

Please stop. Please stop.

The black car pulled up in front of her and she bundled George into the back and climbed in next to him, fastening both their seatbelts as she did.

‘Where to love?’

‘Bradmill please, quick as you can.’

72

The Timer was grateful to be lying in his own bed at last. Thanks to Mickey, he’d been able to make the journey and now he was recovering fast in the safe, familiar comfort of home. No one knew where he lived. At least, no one who wanted to cause him any harm. Of course, those people thought he was dead, thanks to Mickey. He reckoned he could trust the young man after what he’d done for him. They’d always got on well, and he liked Mickey’s uncomplicated and happy-go-lucky attitude to life. Mickey wasn’t really a bad lad, he just hadn’t had the opportunities that others his age were fortunate enough to have. It was the usual story of the wrong crowd and the wrong choices, with no one to turn to for guidance. He shouldn’t be wrapped up in this world; he should be leading a straight and honest life, and probably would have been had he not lost his mother at a difficult time in his life.

As for himself, the Timer had been doing it too long to change. He was stuck in this way of life, but he knew he now stood at a crossroads. After this he might need to move away and start afresh somewhere else. No doubt the Kirklands would find out about his involvement if they didn’t already know. And if they ever discovered that he wasn’t dead, it wouldn’t be long before he was. And it wouldn’t just be him; it would be his whole family. He could never let that happen.

‘How’re you feeling?’ His wife busied herself around him, checking his bandages and tidying away empty mugs of coffee and plates of food. He’d certainly rediscovered his appetite and his strength was returning fast. He smiled at her, acknowledging to himself how lucky he was to find someone who never asked any questions. She must have a hundred, but she never said a word about how he sustained his injuries.

‘Yeah, I’m good. I might get up today and see what I can do.’

‘Okay, but if you don’t feel right, promise me you’ll get straight back to bed. I’m still worried about that bruising on your face. How’s the eye?’

That was probably the thing that had bothered him the most. In fact his whole head was still sore and he had a headache that just wouldn’t go away. The doctor had assured him it was all okay, but the Timer still had a doubt in his mind; how could he be sure when no scan had been done? The swelling around his eye had settled down enough to allow him to open it, so at least he could see clearly now.

‘Oh it’s all right. I can see out of it at least. Just wish this bloody headache would settle down. Are the girls okay?’

‘Yes, they’re downstairs watching television. They keep asking to come up and see you but I’ve told them you’re busy. I don’t want them seeing you like this really.’

The Timer smiled. ‘Probably just as well I guess. I’ll make it up to them.’

‘I know you will.’ She kissed him gently on the forehead and headed downstairs.

He looked across and out the bedroom window, not for the view, which wasn’t much to look at, but to help him with his thoughts. He’d tried to be reasonable with Drabble. He just wanted an explanation, maybe an apology. They’d used him after all, taken him for granted. But no, all they were bothered about was the child or, to be more precise, the money that the child would bring them. He wasn’t getting involved in that kind of thing. He was no angel but he had standards. Drabble could have chosen to explain the situation and apologise and he would have walked away. He hadn’t really expected much when he visited the club, but he certainly hadn’t expected to be beaten and left for dead.

He knew he had to go back and finish things, put an end to it once and for all, for his own sake and for the sake of his children.

And this time there really would be no mistakes.

73

As the familiar hills rolled into view out of the car window, Chloe found that she began to relax and think more clearly. George was out of immediate danger and when she arrived home she would explain it all to her father and then do whatever he told her to do. She knew she could rely on him to give her honest and frank advice, but always with her best interests at heart. She couldn’t see an easy way out of any of this, but now she just needed someone to tell her what to do.

‘Chloe,’ whispered George.

‘Yes, darling?’ Chloe leaned down so her ear was nearer to him.

‘I still need a wee.’

Chloe laughed out loud and the young boy joined in. ‘Oh sorry George, I’d completely forgotten. Hang on; we’re nearly at my house. It’s just down here.’ She leaned forward and caught the taxi driver’s eye in the mirror. ‘It’s the stone cottage at the bottom of the hill. Yes, that one there on the right. Just here will do fine, thanks.’

She settled the fare and helped George out of the car. As the taxi spun round and gunned back up the hill towards Sheffield, Chloe looked around her, without really knowing what she was looking for. Did everything seem grey or was it just the weather? After a moment she felt a gentle tug on her coat and looked down at George.

‘Right, yes, let’s get you to the toilet. I’m really sorry about that George.’

‘It’s okay Chloe.’ He smiled at her and she couldn’t help but feel sorry for this beautiful little boy. What a life he’d had so far, and she was determined to make sure it didn’t get any worse. She took his hand and led him up the path to the cottage. Taking out her key she opened the front door and ushered him inside.

‘The loo is just there on the right, George. Can you manage okay on your own?’

‘Yes thank you.’ Struggling to reach the door handle, he closed the door behind him.

‘Dad?’ called Chloe, slightly puzzled as to why he hadn’t already appeared. The size of the cottage meant there was little chance of getting through the door without being heard, especially whilst chatting to a small child.

Standing there in the hallway, the only sound was the gentle trickle coming from the toilet as George went about his business. Chloe knew already that her father was out, just by the silence that otherwise filled the air.

Damn, where are you dad? I need you.

The toilet flushed and George opened the door and closed it behind him. He stood there looking up at her and again her heart melted.

‘Come on George, let’s see if we can find something nice to eat. Would you like that?’ She tried to sound as upbeat as she could, despite the gnawing feeling of anxiety building inside her.

‘Yes please,’ he said, simply, and followed her into the kitchen.

She sat George at the table and hunted through the cupboards. Eventually she found a frozen pizza in the freezer and held it up for George to see. As his eyes lit up, she knew she didn’t have to ask whether he wanted it, and she placed it in the oven, setting the timer. She poured a glass of orange juice and placed it on the table in front of him.

‘Thank you,’ he said.

‘You really are a polite little boy aren’t you? Your mummy has done a very good job with you.’

He chewed on his lip for a moment and then picked up the orange juice and started to gulp it down, the glass covering his whole face as he did so.

Chloe thought about her father again. She pulled out her mobile and dialled his number. After several rings it went to voicemail. She didn’t leave a message; he wouldn’t listen to it anyway.

And she was right, he wouldn’t listen to it, but she didn’t yet know the reason why.

74

The Timer awoke to the sound of birdsong. Daylight seemed to be glaring into the room and it did nothing to ease the pain in his head. Slowly, he hoisted himself out of bed and looked outside. A cold, crisp morning greeted him as neighbours went about their usual business. Gradually he started to feel better and his head cleared. He quickly dressed in old tracksuit bottoms and a sweatshirt and made his way cautiously downstairs. His leg was still hurting, and the pain sheared upwards with every step. He grasped the bannister to help take the weight, but it did little to stop the pain.

The house was empty and he assumed his wife had taken the girls to school. It was certainly that time of day. He made his way into the garage and over to the old set of drawers which contained a selection of the useful and pointless items found in most garages. The top drawer had a lock on it.

He reached up and felt along the highest shelf on the wall. Locating the key, he inserted it into the lock. With a twist and a pull the drawer came open and he gazed down at the contents. His hunting knife sat gleaming in its usual place. Mickey was a good lad; he’d made sure that it had stayed with him from the club via Mickey’s flat. He’d hate to lose it; it was his weapon of choice and he’d used it many times. Not to kill anyone - at least, no one that didn’t deserve it - but he’d used it to get his own way when necessary; to encourage others to see his point of view. He found that a threat was usually enough to persuade the average person to see things his way. Lifting it from the drawer, he ran his fingers over it, careful not to snag the serrated edge. The smooth mahogany handle fit his hand like a glove, like it was made to measure. The garage light reflected off the blade and sent a flash of light dancing around the garage walls. He replaced it in the drawer. It was a good weapon, but it wasn’t what he needed for his next task.

Instead, he took hold of the weapon sitting next to the knife. It was a small revolver with a black plastic handle. There was nothing complicated about it, nothing impressive, but it would certainly do the job. The chamber had been pre-loaded with bullets and the safety catch was on. It was ready to be used. A small box of spare ammunition lay in the corner of the drawer.

Thanks Mickey. I owe you big time.

He held the gun out in front of him. For a moment he turned it on its side like a gangster might, smiled to himself, and then righted it again. There was a thrill to holding a gun. It was something forbidden, something illicit. Maybe the same feeling one might experience from having an affair, not that he would know about that of course.

He’d never used a firearm before, never pulled the trigger. Could he do it? That was always the sixty four million dollar question.

Yes, yes he could.

Watch out Drabble, here I come.

75

Chloe hadn’t slept. Not really. She’d dozed on and off, but she was distraught by the fact that her father hadn’t come home. She’d waited and waited, watching the clock as the hours ticked by, pacing around the small cottage and trying to keep control of the thoughts raging through her head. She’d tried to remain calm for George’s sake, and had eventually settled him down to sleep in her bed at around nine o’clock. It was now ten o’clock the next morning and she was beside herself with worry. He’d never stayed out all night before. Why would he? Unless he’d gone to the pub and met some woman there…

No, don’t be an idiot. He wouldn’t do that and you know it.

She couldn’t help but think this was something to do with what was going on in her own life. Had they come and taken him? After all, they’d threatened her with his life as well as her own. But when would they have done that, and why? And who the hell were they anyway?

‘Hello Chloe.’ It was George, who’d wandered into the kitchen.

‘Hello little mister. Do you always sleep this late?’

He laughed and gave her a hug.

‘Is mummy coming to get me today?’

Chloe took a breath. What could she say?

‘I’m afraid not, George, but we’re having fun here aren’t we? Do you want some breakfast?’

He nodded and she wasn’t sure which question he was answering. She made him a bowl of cereal and poured him a glass of orange juice and he seemed content enough.

As he ate, Chloe sipped on a cup of coffee and tried to work out what to do next. She couldn’t just stay here with George forever. She was beginning to think that calling the police was the best option. Surely they would believe her when she explained everything? The nagging doubt in her mind was the ten thousand pounds sitting in her bank account. She could hear the questions now; they’d be fired at her thick and fast, looks of doubt on their faces. What is the money for? Why didn’t you say something straight away? Why didn’t you come to the police before now?

And to be honest she didn’t really know why. They would be awkward questions and the thought of answering them did nothing to encourage her to make the call.

Her mobile rang and she answered it without looking at the screen.

‘Dad?’ she said expectantly.

‘Ah, no, I’m sorry, it’s only me. I hope you’re not too disappointed.’ It was Ben.

‘Oh Ben, hi. Sorry, I was expecting my dad to call. He’s been… oh never mind.’ She didn’t want to explain everything over the phone, but was still pleased to hear his voice.

‘Is everything all right Chloe? Drake has been asking after you. I think he has something he wants you to deal with and he seems a little put out that you aren’t here. I told him I thought you were in court this morning but I’m not convinced he believed me.’

‘Thanks for covering for me Ben. And I’m fine. I just need some time to take care of a few things. I’ll explain it all next time I see you.’ She wasn’t sure that was true but she said it anyway.

‘Where are you? At home? Are you ill?’

‘No I’m okay thanks but yes, I’m at home. I’m fine. Tell Drake I’ll be in tomorrow would you? Apologise for me too.’

‘Yes, of course. Is there anything I can do to help?’

Chloe held the phone to her ear and paused for a moment or two, tempted to ask him to come to her now; to tell her what to do. A problem shared and all that.

‘Chloe? Are you still there?’

‘Yes I’m still here… No, really, I’m fine. As I say, I just need a little time. You know I’ve found things a bit difficult lately and I just need a break from it all. I’ll be in tomorrow. Thanks for calling Ben, I really appreciate it.’

She ended the call, placed the phone on the table and rubbed her face in her hands. She needed some help here, some advice.

Come on dad, where the hell are you?

76

‘Right. Okay. Good work son. At least someone knows what the fuck they’re doing round here… Yeah, I’ll catch you later.’

Drabble placed the receiver calmly on the base of the phone unit on his desk. He looked over at the man bound tightly to a chair in the corner of the room, then he looked up at Jez.

‘I know where they are. I’ve got the address – here, take it and go and fetch them. Bring them back here, and do it quickly.’

A muffled sound came from the prisoner, his mouth covered by thick tape.

‘Shut the fuck up,’ Drabble shouted.

Jez took the scrap of paper, looked at it quickly, unable to prevent a smirk appearing on his face, and slipped it into his pocket.

‘You’d think she could find a less obvious place to go.’ He grinned at Mickey, who played along with the comradery and laughed quietly.

‘Jez, listen to me carefully.’ Drabble had a look on his face that Jez didn’t like. His heart instantly skipped a beat and he shuffled uneasily on his feet. ‘You fucked up at the local authority. I don’t know what happened but Lightbody told me something spooked her and that caused her to run. He reckons she must have seen you. I told you to be careful and stay out of the fucking way.’

‘But I was…’

‘Jez, shut up and just listen. Go to her house and get her and the child. Bring them both here, do you understand? I want them alive. We need the child for the Kirklands, but I also need to speak to the girl to make sure she hasn’t done anything stupid, like call the police. I assume she hasn’t otherwise they’d have been kicking the door in by now.’

‘Yes boss.’

‘What’ll we do with the girl after that?’ Mickey surprised himself with the question. He usually stayed out of these discussions. Drabble kept his stare focused on Jez as he spoke.

‘We get rid of her. Then we break all connections with that fucking law firm. I’m sick of the place; it gives me nothing but trouble. We’ll have to find a new firm to use. Now, is everything clear?’

More muffled attempts to speak came from the corner of the room as the prisoner urgently tried to say something. This time Drabble ignored him.

Jez and Mickey both nodded. As they walked out into the bar, Jez turned to Mickey.

‘Go and get the car, we’ve got some baggage to collect.’

Mickey saw a look in Jez’s eyes that he recognised. It was the same look that he had after he’d beaten the Timer almost to death a few days ago, and it worried him.

‘All right Jez. Are you okay mate?’

‘I’ve had enough of things going wrong and getting blamed for it all. This time it will go as planned. That bitch and the brat won’t know what’s hit them.’

‘The boss wants them alive remember, Jez.’

‘He said alive, not unharmed. Oh, and Mickey, who the hell was that tied up in Drabble’s office?’

‘The girl’s father I think.’

Jez smiled. ‘Sweet. That’ll make things even easier; gives me something to bargain with. I’m looking forward to this.’

Mickey found himself scared. Scared for the girl and the young boy he’d never met. And, if he was honest, scared for himself. It was as if a switch had been flicked inside Jez. He was a man on a mission and he was concerned about what Jez had said about harming the girl.

He hurried out to collect the car, conflicting thoughts battling in his mind.

77

Chloe sat at the kitchen table watching George eat his breakfast. She’d come to a decision about what to do. The fact that her father hadn’t returned was the final straw; she couldn’t do this alone. She’d wanted his advice, needed it, and would have followed it without question. His empty chair only brought matters into clearer contention; she was going to the police. Staying here with George just wasn’t an option. Someone would come looking for him eventually. The fact that the police hadn’t arrived at her door yet meant that no one had reported the fact that she’d run off with him. The local authority could easily have found her address and sent someone round to look for them. That they hadn’t done so told her everything she needed to know. It confirmed all her worst fears. The people involved did not want the police interfering in all of this. And there could only be one reason for that.

She heard the faint growl of a car engine which sounded as if it had pulled up outside the house. She immediately stood up and peered down the hallway to the front door and through the rippled glass she could see the unmistakeable outline of a dark car. Then she saw movement. At least two figures were walking up the path towards the door. Salesmen perhaps? She doubted it.

‘George, we need to go out.’ Chloe rushed over and pulled him out of his chair, hoisting up him into her arms. He clung to her and his weight surprised her. She wasn’t used to lifting young children and struggled to take some of his weight on her hip to ease the burden.

A loud bang resonated down the hallway as someone thumped on the front door of the cottage.

Without time to think, Chloe instinctively moved to the door at the back of the kitchen which led out to the garden and twisted the key in the lock. She pulled it open and stepped through, still holding George. Apparently aware that something was wrong, he held on to her even tighter than before, and if anything it seemed to make him lighter somehow.

As she pulled the door closed she heard glass breaking in the hallway; they were smashing their way in. Locking the door from the outside, she hurried across the patio behind the cottage and located a small gap in the high wooden fence which led through to the neighbouring garden. She set George on the ground.

‘George, we need to crawl through that gap. Can you do that? I used to do it when I was a child. A really nice lady lives next door and she will help us.’

George was unfazed by her request. Clearly a child that had done a lot of outside adventuring in his time, he fell to his hands and knees and disappeared through the hole.

Chloe prepared herself to follow him, urged on by the clamour coming from the kitchen door behind her. She started to wonder if they would ever give up the chase. An image of Mrs Granger flashed briefly before her, the woman she’d known since Chloe moved here as a small child. This gap in the fence had always been a gateway into a different world; a world of childhood adventures, of fun and laughter and good times. It was a world into which she had escaped on the many occasions that the horrors of her mother’s illness deprived her own house of such things. She didn’t want to drag Mrs Granger into the new darkness that was enveloping her life, but what other choice did she have? George was the most important person in all this, and she knew her kindly neighbour would agree.

Surprised that she could still fit through the opening so easily, she winced as the cold moisture seeped into the knees of her jeans. She found George standing waiting for her on the other side, put her hand on his back and marshalled him up to the house. It was built of the same stone as her own cottage, but was considerably larger and rather less well kept. Mr Granger had died some years ago, and his wife had struggled to maintain it in her later years, despite her best efforts.

Relief swept over Chloe as she caught sight of Mrs Granger standing at the sink in her kitchen.

‘Mrs Granger, please open the door,’ she shouted, banging on the glass as if to emphasise the urgency of her request. She heard a crash from what she assumed was her own back door and then the sound of male voices from behind the fence. She looked back at the hole and saw a face appear. It was Peters.

‘Miss Webster, wait, we just want to talk to you about George. What are you running for? There’s no need to be scared of us.’ He sounded quite reasonable, but she had now convinced herself that no good could come of this. She almost fell into Mrs Granger’s kitchen as the door was pulled open from the inside. She bundled George into the house and followed after him, urging her elderly neighbour to lock the door behind them.

Jez stood up and turned to Mickey. ‘Shit, she’s gone into the house next door. This is gonna get very messy. And I’m not fucking crawling through that hole, not in this gear. We’ll have to go round.’

78

The old lady untied the apron from her waist and placed it on a hook inside a cupboard. Everything in the kitchen clearly had a place and, like Mrs Granger herself, was neat, tidy and very welcoming.

‘What on earth is the matter, dear? And who’s this cute little chap you’ve brought to see me? Hello, would you like…?’

‘Mrs Granger, I’m really sorry to barge in like this. There isn’t time for me to explain everything to you now, but we need to call the police. Something bad is happening and I need help. Can you call them now please, quickly?’ Trying to sound as calm as possible so as not to upset her neighbour, Chloe actually felt like screaming the words.

The smile dropped from Mrs Granger’s face as she realised something was seriously wrong. She took hold of Chloe’s hand and looked at her earnestly.

‘What is it, dear? What’s wrong?’

‘Mrs Granger please, I wouldn’t have come here unless I had to. I didn’t want to bring them here, but they will be here in a minute. Please call the police now.’

‘All right dear, yes, I’ll do it now. Let me see, I have the number somewhere…’

‘Just call nine nine nine, Mrs Granger.’ Chloe was getting desperate, and wished she’d had time to collect her own phone before they ran. She knew the men would be here any moment. It might already be too late.

The telephone was in the hallway and Mrs Granger took up the receiver and dialled the emergency number.

‘Yes, police please,’ she said, and Chloe breathed a small sigh of relief that progress was finally being made to summon help. She leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen watching as the neighbour she’d sought refuge with so many times before, but for very different reasons, waited for a response.

‘Ah yes, hello. My name? Yes, it’s Mrs Rosemary Granger. Erm, yes of course, it’s Mill Cottage…’

There was no real noise as such, and certainly not the kind of deafening blast that would usually be associated with a gunshot. It was more of a muffled thud, with a tinkle of broken glass accompanying it as the bullet came through the window of the front door. Mrs Granger dropped the telephone and stood there for what seemed like far too long. The blood that had splattered up the wall behind her went unnoticed to Chloe, who was mesmerised by the small round hole just above the old lady’s left eye.

As Mrs Granger eventually crumpled to the floor without a sound, Chloe’s first thought was for George and she was grateful that he was sat at the kitchen table, unaware of what had just happened. She wanted to scream of course, to go and see if she could do anything for Mrs Granger, but she knew that would only result in her and George being taken, or worse. But if she had any remaining doubts about whether she had misunderstood the events of the last week or so, she was now under no illusion. It was serious. Deadly serious.

‘George, we need to go again.’ Chloe could already hear the men trying to force the front door open. She took George into her arms, unlocked the back door and, locking it behind her, ran out into the garden.

Mrs Granger’s garden was a good size, laid mainly to grass with large evergreen trees and thick shrubs set out in a traditional style around the edges. She ran with George straight down the lawn into the trees at the bottom. Behind them, a low wooden fence marked the boundary of the garden, beyond which stretched open fields of farmland.

Another crash rang out as the back door of the house splintered and started to give way. Chloe lifted George over the fence, then climbed over herself. She looked across the field, the same familiar view she had from her own bedroom window. She knew there was a farmhouse at the bottom of this field and it was the only place she could think of running. She prayed that George was up to it.

They might even have a shotgun there. Jesus, what am I thinking?

They ran out into the field, hand in hand.

79

Jez looked out the kitchen window as Mickey worked on the door. He’d seen the girl run into the trees and had to admire her resolve; she certainly wasn’t going to give up easily. But he knew they had her now. He could see the countryside sprawling into the distance, and unless she came across a friendly farmer or a hiker or something, she was done for. The child wouldn’t be able to run for long, and if she was still carrying him she wouldn’t be moving quickly.

‘For fuck’s sake Mickey, hurry up will you?’ He was confident of catching up with them, but still unable to relax completely until they had the child. The thought of facing Drabble again empty-handed was all the encouragement he needed to maintain the chase.

‘Yeah, yeah, it’s coming. A couple more…kicks.’

The task was made more difficult because the door opened inwards, and he was therefore fighting against the frame. Fortunately, the wood was showing signs of rot, and after a few more whacks it gave way as the door crunched outwards, enough for them to squeeze through.

‘Nice one Mickey, now let’s get after them. Come on.’

They ran down the garden and into the trees. Mickey started to hunt through the bushes to make sure they weren’t hiding as Jez pushed through to the space behind and came up against the low boundary fence.

‘Mickey, come here mate. They’re not hiding, they’re running. Come and have a look at this. Where the fuck does she think she’s going?’

Mickey pushed through the trees next to him and together they stood watching for a moment. It was like a scene out of some twee coming-of-age movie. The two of them were running downhill through the field beneath the low February sun, leaving two trails behind them in the green, bushy crops.

‘Shit, there’s a farmhouse down there, look Mickey. She’s still trying to get help. At this rate we’ll have to kill half the population of the sodding Peak District. Come on, let’s go.’

They clambered over the fence and set off down the slope. Jez was unhappy that the damp crops were splashing water up his designer trousers, but he pushed on and soon he’d opened a sizeable lead over his companion, who was breathing heavily somewhere behind him. He could see Chloe and George ahead as they reached the bottom of the field and started to climb over the fence which separated it from the farmhouse.

‘Fuck. Run Mickey, they’re almost at the house,’ he shouted over his shoulder.

The sprint was taking all of Mickey’s concentration. His bulky frame together with the downward slope meant that his legs were taking a huge amount of strain. The uneven ground added to his fear of falling flat on his face. He heard Jez shout something to him but didn’t catch what it was, and he was too focused on keeping his balance to reply.

Jez approached the boundary fence first. He judged that it was just too high to hurdle, so he slowed down and climbed the three bar railings, jumping down onto the muddy farmyard area beyond. A few hens flapped out of the way as he did so. Chloe and George were nowhere to be seen but he could hear banging and shouting from the other side of the house and headed off towards it. A backward glance confirmed that Mickey wasn’t too far behind him. Mud splattered up his expensive trousers as he trudged across the farmyard. He sighed deeply with irritation.

‘She’s really beginning to annoy me now,’ he muttered to himself as he reached the end of the house wall. He pulled his gun and rounded the corner.

80

Chloe and George ran up to the front door of the farmhouse. George was crying now as his legs began to ache. He was partly walking and partly being pulled by Chloe, and his trousers were filthy from where he had fallen over several times. She kept reassuring him that everything would be all right but she didn’t even believe it herself, not after what had happened to Mrs Granger.

She banged on the formidable rustic door of the farmhouse, praying for someone to be at home.

‘Hello?’ she shouted, moving instantly to a window nearby and peering through. She couldn’t see anybody inside the neat, modern room, and banged on the window as hard as she could.

‘Hello? Is there anybody there? We need help. Please, somebody.’ The desperation in her voice was total, the calm she had tried to maintain for George’s sake now gone entirely. She looked behind her but all she could see was a landscape covered in open fields. This house had been their only chance and that chance was now fading fast. She picked up a piece of broken stone and threw it as hard as she could at the window. Glass shattered as the stone flew into the room beyond, leaving a black rugged hole in the pane. She shouted through the opening.

‘Please, is anybody home?’

Then silence. Nobody was here and nobody was going to help them. She knew that now. And when the silence was eventually broken by footsteps tramping across the farmyard behind the house she thought only of George. Bending down and wrapping her arms around him she spoke into his ear.

‘George I’m so sorry. I tried everything I could to keep you safe. Now you have to do what these men tell you. I might be able to come with you, but if not I will find you and get you home to mummy. Will you remember that? Please don’t forget it. I will come for you.’

George gripped on to the girl that he’d come to trust. She was the one who would get him back to his mummy and tears filled his eyes again.

‘Yes Chloe. I’ll be good, I promise.’

A man came traipsing round the corner of the house. It was Peters, but Chloe’s eyes were focused only on the gun he was pointing at her.

‘Please don’t. I’m only trying to protect the child. Please don’t shoot us.’ She turned away and sheltered George from the gunman, bracing herself for what was coming next.

The noise was just like the one she’d heard at Mrs Granger’s house; the muffled thud of a silenced handgun.

Startled chickens squawked and flapped out of the way to safety.

81

The noise scared her. But she had heard it. That could only mean she was alive. There was no pain. No blood. No screaming. She looked down at George but he was still holding on to her, seemingly unhurt. She turned slowly and looked over at Peters. He stared back at her blankly.

‘Just a warning shot, Miss Webster. It’s the only one I’m gonna fire. Next time it’ll be in your head. Now let’s stop all this fucking around and get you and this child out of here shall we, before I have to start killing the bloody farmer and his wife.’

Mickey came bounding round the corner at speed, covered from knee to shoulder in mud.

‘Had a little fall did we Mickey lad?’ sneered Jez. ‘Good job your suit’s a cheap one isn’t it?’

Mickey looked a little sorry for himself. The slope had been too much for him in the end and he’d gone over in a boggy patch near the boundary fence. He looked at the girl and the child wrapped around her legs. He thought she was beautiful, and he felt humiliated in her presence by his companion’s words.

‘Fuck off Jez,’ he said simply.

Jez was already irritable enough and he pointed the gun momentarily at Mickey’s face.

‘Watch it Mickey son, just watch it.’

He paused for a moment or two and then grinned, sticking the gun into his belt.

‘Right, as I said we have to get out of here. We’ll need the car Mickey, so off you go back up the field and get it. There’s a map in the glove compartment. Look for…’ he glanced around at the house and saw the words he was after carved into a stone above the door. ‘… Millstone Farm. There’s bound to be a way down here.’

Mickey stood staring at him.

‘You telling me I’ve got to go all the way back the way we just came?’

‘I am Mickey, and quickly. I really don’t want the farmer coming home with his twelve bore shotgun do I?’

‘Well why don’t we all just walk up to the car together?’

‘Like a bloody Sunday afternoon walk with the family? Don’t be soft Mickey. Just go and get the car will you?’

‘But we can all walk…’

‘Mickey, just fuck off and get the car.’

Mickey hesitated. He knew he was pushing Jez’s patience to the limit.

‘I still don’t get why we don’t just all walk up to the car.’

Jez marched over to Chloe and without warning slammed his fist into the middle of her face. She fell to the ground with a whimper and lay there in the mud. Her nose was angled unnaturally to one side, and blood flowed down her face, dripping onto the filthy farmyard. George immediately cried out and knelt down beside her, pulling at her top and calling her name.

‘Fucking hell Jez what are you doing? Drabble wants her alive.’

‘I know he does Mickey. Don’t worry she’ll be fine.’ He looked down at her motionless body. ‘Well, she’ll be alive anyway. She had it coming the stupid cow. Do you understand why I need the car now?’

Mickey raised his hands in an effort to calm the situation. ‘Okay, okay, I’m going. Just don’t kill her. If she dies, we all die.’

And with that he ran off round the corner of the farmhouse back towards the field.

82

The Timer breathed heavily as he completed his final set of sit-ups. His leg remained painful but his vision was now unimpaired, the swelling around his eye having subsided considerably. Running was impossible, but he had no intention of doing that. Walking was manageable but painful, and that would do for what he needed. Taking the stairs carefully he found his wife and two young daughters in the lounge watching television.

‘I’m going out in a minute. There’s something I have to take care of.’ He looked at his wife. ‘Whilst I’m out I want you to pack a bag. We’ll need to leave town tonight, head down south perhaps. Maybe a hotel on the coast somewhere.’

His wife looked concerned. She was used to his comings and goings and never asked any questions. But she’d never had to leave her home before. It must be serious.

‘When will we be able to come back?’ She looked at the girls who had picked up on the anxiety in their mother’s voice.

‘What’s the matter mummy?’ said Daisy, the older of the two.

‘It’s okay princess, mummy and daddy just need to talk for a minute. You stay here and watch the telly.’ She stood up and ushered her husband into the kitchen, closing the door behind them. ‘Are you in trouble? Why the urgency all of a sudden?’

‘I didn’t want to worry you with it all before. There’re some people I do some work for, and it’s all got a bit messy. I need to sort a few things out, but when I do, it’ll get even messier, if you know what I mean. There’s nothing to worry about. None of them knows where I live, but we need to be sure the girls are safe.’ He took her in his arms and held her close.’ I need to be sure you’re safe.’

She enjoyed the warmth of his body, wishing she could keep him here with her, but she knew that was impossible. She pushed him away gently to arm’s length and looked into his eyes.

‘So when will we be able to come back?’

He hesitated, knowing how she cherished her home. She’d never had that safe environment when she was a child, and the thought that he was depriving her of it now tore him apart.

‘I don’t know. I just don’t know. There’re lots of people involved and it depends how things turn out. For now, I just need to know you’re safe.’

She fell into his arms again, the confirmation of what she already knew making her legs feel suddenly weak. How will she tell the girls? They loved it here. All their friends were here.

‘We have to be safe,’ insisted the Timer. ‘Nothing else matters.’

She knew he was right, and she said no more about it. They were in this together; they were a partnership.

‘Promise me one thing.’ This had been a long time coming, but she had to say it.

‘What’s that?’

‘When this is over, you’ll give this up and we’ll lead a normal life. I want to be like all the other mothers. I want to tell them that you’re a salesman, or an electrician, or whatever the hell you want to be. I’m sick of lying all the time. I’m sick of worrying all the time.’

He kissed the top of her head and squeezed her tighter. He knew her love was unconditional.

‘I have to go. Be ready in two hours.’

He left her warm clutches and entered the far colder grip of the cool air in the garage. Tucking the gun into his belt, he looked down at the hunting knife.

Why not? You never know what might happen.

Placing it in the sheath on his belt he grabbed his thick winter coat from a hook on the wall and headed back into the kitchen. Daisy stood there looking at him.

‘Daddy won’t be long,’ he said as she ran up and hugged his legs. He took her up into his arms and kissed her cheek, ‘and when I get back we’ll have exciting adventures together, just the four of us.’

‘Okay daddy. Love you.’

‘Love you too sweetheart. Now go and see mummy.’

She ran off into the warm lounge that was filled with love and the Timer turned and headed out into the cold, filled with hate.

83

The pain made its presence felt before anything else; a dull, throbbing pain, right in the middle of her face. She knew she was seated, but it took a few moments before she managed to open her eyes. Peters was standing against the wall in front of her next to a large window. She blinked in the bright electric light that filled the room. He grinned at her.

‘Sorry about the nose, but I wouldn’t worry about it now if I were you. I think it’s fair to say that it’s the least of your worries, don’t you?’

She remembered then that he had come at her, fast and angry. He must have hit her but she could muster no recollection of it now. She tried to reach up to feel her face but couldn’t move her hands. They were bound tightly behind her back. She looked around the featureless room. Was it some kind of warehouse? There was a man in a chair to her right, also bound. Recognition struck her immediately.

‘Dad!’ she called. ‘Dad, are you okay? Dad?’

Her father didn’t move. He was slumped over and prevented from falling only by duct tape which encircled his torso and the chair’s back-rest.

‘What have you done to him, you bastard?’ She looked at Peters but he just smirked, clearly unconcerned by his condition.

‘Help! Anyone, help! Help!’ She shouted as loud as she could but still Peters stood grinning at her. He paced across in front of the window.

‘There’s no point, Miss Webster. No one can hear you. No one’s coming to help. No one cares. It’s all over for you. And him.’ He nodded towards her father.

‘Where’s George? What have you done with him?’

‘Oh he’s all right. He’s waiting for his new family. Soon he’ll forget all about this, all about you, and all about that stupid mother of his. He’ll probably have a much better life where he’s going.’

Chloe wrestled with the tape on her wrists but there was no way she could shift it. She looked back at her father and tears came to her eyes. Why was he here? How did he get involved in all this?

‘Please let me go Mr Peters. I won’t say anything. And my father, it’s nothing to do with him.’ Chloe could feel desperation taking over.

‘Nope, sorry, not gonna happen. And leave it out with the Mr Peters. Just call me Jez.’ He said it like they were newly acquainted business associates, friends even, but then he moved to the corner of the room and picked up a long thick rope.

Chloe instantly started to panic.

What the hell is he doing?

Jez calmly threw the rope over a steel joist near the ceiling and then lopped it around her neck.

‘What are you doing?’ But she already knew. Her heart began to race. ‘Get off me. Help!’

He tied the rope into a noose and then pulled the other end, which tightened the rope looped over the joist and caused her to choke instantly. She had no choice but to stand up, and as he tugged harder she was forced to step up onto the chair until she was standing upright on it, looking down at her captor. Thankfully he stopped pulling at that point and secured the end of the rope to a post which was supporting the ceiling.

‘Good girl,’ said Jez. ‘Now, don’t move else you’ll fucking hang yourself.’

‘Please, why are you doing this?’ The rope made talking uncomfortable but she had to try. ‘I don’t understand. You’ve got the child. Isn’t that enough?’

Jez grinned and left the room.

‘No, please, come back.’ The tears were now streaming down her face. ‘Dad, wake up. Dad, are you okay?’

But her father remained still. She thought she could see him breathing, but if so it was only shallow. What had they done to him?

What are they going to do to me?

84

The Timer approached the club he knew so well. He’d been here many times of course, to discuss business with Drabble and Jez, and to play snooker with Mickey. But this time it was different. He had a purpose and for him there could only be one outcome. He had to get rid of Drabble, and anyone else who got in his way.

He knew he had to be careful and prepared for anything, but he still kept his weapons hidden inside his jacket. It was daylight after all and he didn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention to himself, aware that he had the element of surprise on his side. As far as he knew, Drabble and Jez believed he was dead and buried.

It was quiet outside the club. A few parked cars littered the street and one or two people hurried about their business in and out of local shops. The club was set back from the road, and a patch of wasteland at the front of the building was used as a makeshift car park. He could see that Drabble’s car wasn’t there. Jez and Mickey lived nearby so he had no way of knowing if they were here or not. One of them at least was usually around to supervise the club, even if another of Drabble’s goons was taking care of the day to day stuff.

He walked straight in through the front door and as it closed behind him he drew the handgun. Entering the main hall, he quickly surveyed the area and noted two pretty rough looking characters playing snooker down the far end. Mickey was behind the bar chatting to a woman he’d never seen before. Other than that the place was empty.

‘Mickey, is Drabble in?’ he called, looking back down the hall towards the two snooker players.

‘Oh, Mr T, what the fuck are you doing here?’

‘Mickey, is he in?’ The Timer started towards the office behind the bar.

‘No he isn’t.’ Mickey noticed the gun for the first time. The woman at the bar had also seen it, though it didn’t seem to bother her.

‘Who’s this handsome gentleman then Mickey? Aren’t you going to introduce us?’ Something in her voice made the Timer think of Scotland and the fine holidays he’d enjoyed there with his family.

‘No, he isn’t,’ said the Timer bluntly, and waved Mickey through into the office. Once they were both inside he shut the door and turned to Mickey. ‘Where’s Drabble? And Jez? Are they together?’

‘Mr T, what are you planning?’

‘Mickey, I wanna leave you out of this. We’ve always been friends. Just tell me where they are and I’ll go.’

‘Are you sure you’ve thought this through? If you kill Drabble you’ll have to run. And I mean a long way.’ Mickey looked genuinely concerned for his old friend.

‘I know Mickey. I’ve got it sorted, don’t worry. But I don’t intend to leave many people around to follow me.’ He saw the fear in Mickey’s eyes. ‘I don’t mean you Mickey. I’m not gonna hurt you. Those two out there, on the table at the end, are they Drabble’s men?’

‘They are, yeah. Two of his most trusted. You wouldn’t want them after you. The rest would probably give up if Drabble was hit, go and join the Kirklands or something. But those two would come after you.’

‘I don’t think I’ve seen them before.’

‘No, they don’t usually come round here. I think they messed up on a recent job and Drabble wanted to see them to sort a few things out. They’re waiting for him now, but he won’t be back for a while yet.’

The Timer was interested. ‘What did they do?’

‘I’m not sure to be honest, but I heard Jez saying something about a girl being too old and why didn’t they get someone younger or something. No idea what that was about; they don’t tell me much these days.’

So they’re the child snatchers are they?

‘I’ve got a pretty good idea. And what about you Mickey, what will you do if Drabble isn’t around anymore?’ He wanted to know that his friend had plans.

‘I’ll be okay. I’ll take the cash from the safe and run. There’s usually a good few grand in there. Try to start new somewhere else. Something clean this time.’

‘Good lad. Right, I just need to sort out a couple of problems in the hall. You wait here Mickey.’

‘Be careful Mr T, they’re dangerous. Don’t let your guard down.’

85

The Timer made his way back out into the bar. The woman was still sitting on a stool sipping from something clear and alcoholic. She looked to be in her thirties but the amount of makeup she had plastered on her face made it hard to be sure. The Timer stood next to her; too close, in an attempt to make her feel uncomfortable, but it didn’t seem to have the desired effect.

‘Now listen, you look like you could be trouble to me. I’m sure we could have a good time on another day, in another life maybe. But not now and not here. You need to leave this place and don’t come back. Whatever you hear or read about, don’t say anything to anyone. Not ever. Do you understand me?’

The woman drained her glass, winked at him and then left the club. The Timer had to admit that he was intrigued, but he had more important things to take care of.

He headed through the empty snooker hall, walking down the centre aisle with rows of tables standing in the shadows on each side of him. The men on the end table soon realised he was heading their way and stopped their game. One perched on the corner of the table, and the other rested on his cue, drinking slowly from a pint of beer. As he approached, the Timer spread his arms and smiled.

‘Hello gentlemen, I’m a colleague of Mr Drabble’s. I understand you do some work for him from time to time?’

They both stared back in silence. Caution and secrecy were attributes that kept you alive in this job.

‘I understand your reluctance to talk. Don’t worry, we’re on the same side. I collected a package from a lorry out of Hull the other day. I believe you guys loaded it in the first place?’

The men looked down to where Mickey was now standing and he gave them a nod.

‘What of it?’ grunted the man leaning on his cue.

‘I was just interested to know the story, that’s all. Might have some work for you and I want to know how you operate.’

‘It was Amsterdam. Took her from her father in a park. It was easy enough. He didn’t have a clue what was happening until it was too late.’

‘Impressive work, gentlemen. So how are you fixed to do a little job for me?’

‘Do you pay well?’ asked the man sat on the edge of the table. He was the smaller of the two, seemingly smarter in appearance and intellect, and presumably the negotiator.

The Timer smiled. ‘Not bad. I’ll only need you for a couple of hours. Shall we say a grand each?’

The man tried to remain cool despite the huge offer, but the Timer knew he had him. The things we do for money.

‘That’ll do,’ he said, as his partner rolled his cue onto the table to signify the end of the game. ‘But what about Drabble? He wants to talk to us when he gets back.’

‘Oh I’m sure Mickey can clear that for you. Anyway, we won’t be long. You’ll probably be back here before him.’

The men exchanged a glance. ‘All right, you’ve got yourself a deal.’

‘Great, shall we get going? After you gentlemen.’

The two men strolled past him and as they did so the Timer could see they were both built like the proverbial brick shit-house. He let them walk a few paces down the aisle which allowed him to pull out his gun and take aim. He didn’t try to be clever, and simply put them both down with a shot each to the middle of the back. There was no sophisticated silencer on the gun and the noise reverberated around the empty hall. One of the men fell silently; the other cried out in pain but didn’t seem to be able to move once he was on the floor. The Timer then made sure with two more shots, one to each man’s head. Messy, but professional. He thought of Francesca and those eyes that he would never forget.

You don’t mess with kids.

Mickey came pacing towards him down the hall, a look of excitement on his face.

‘So where are they then, Mickey? Let’s get this thing finished.’ The Timer’s eyes glowed in the dim light.

Mickey grinned. ‘I’ll take you there.’

86

Chloe couldn’t stop the thoughts running through her head. Would she ever get to speak to her father again? Were they really going to hang her? How would that feel? How much would it hurt? The conflict between her feelings of panic and the need to stand still was difficult to control.

A large man came through the door, immaculately dressed in a black suit and highly polished shoes. In contrast to the dusty greyness of the room he seemed out of place. Jez followed in behind him and leaned against the window sill.

‘So this is our girl is it? Pretty little thing isn’t she?’

‘Sure is Mr Drabble. Unfortunately she’s also a fucking interfering little bitch.’ Jez looked across at Drabble who ignored him and held his gaze on Chloe.

‘It doesn’t seem right, somehow. A beautiful, young, intelligent girl with the rest of her life ahead of her, standing on a chair in a place like this with a rope round her neck.’ Drabble showed no emotion as he spoke, and Jez looked puzzled as he listened to the words. ‘It’s a pity you didn’t just do what we asked you to do.’

‘I did.’ The words were barely audible as Chloe choked back her tears and fought against the grip of the rope. ‘I did everything you asked.’

Drabble walked over to her father and lifted the man’s chin in his hand. His eyes were closed and he made no sound, no attempt to move; there was no sign of consciousness.

‘Is he alive?’ Drabble asked.

‘I think so. He was anyway,’ replied Jez.

‘He needs help,’ begged Chloe. ‘Please call an ambulance or something.’

Drabble laughed out loud. He let go of the man’s chin and it dropped back down to his chest.

‘Right, Miss Webster. I’m going to ask you a question and you’re going to tell me the truth. I’ll know if you’re lying and if you are, your old daddy here gets a bullet.

Jez pulled a gun and strolled over to where the injured man sat. He pointed it at the middle of his chest and looked up at Chloe.

‘Okay, anything. Ask me anything, just don’t shoot him.’

Drabble stared into her eyes. ‘What have you told the police?’

‘The police?’ Chloe immediately knew this would end badly. ‘Nothing. I mean, I haven’t spoken to the police. Why would I?’

‘Oh come on, don’t play the poor little innocent girl with me. You know what’s been going on here. Why else did you run with the child? You’ve got it all worked out and you’ve had plenty of time to call for help.’

Chloe knew she had to try to convince him. She thought quickly and as clearly as she could. ‘It was the money.’

‘The money?’

‘Yes, the money that you paid into my bank account, the ten thousand pounds. I knew that if I called the police they would think I was involved. I assume that was part of your plan. When things started to get out of control I admit that I did want to call the police, but I never actually managed to. Honestly.’

Drabble continued to stare at her as if he was assessing the reliability of every word she said.

‘Well, you’re far more convincing than the last idiot we had standing up there. I don’t know, what do you think Jez?’

Jez thought back to the house and how he had seen the old neighbour frantically trying to speak to someone on the phone before he blew her brains out. He knew she was calling the police then. He also knew she’d failed. And he was pretty sure Chloe hadn’t had a chance to call them since then. He’d seen Chloe’s mobile phone on the table in her cottage when they came through it. Of course, he wasn’t about to tell Drabble any of this.

‘I think she’s lying,’ he smirked. ‘Of course she’s called the fucking cops. She’s a lawyer, what else would she do?’

‘No! I haven’t. Honestly Mr Drabble, I haven’t, and I won’t.’

He was impressed that she’d remembered his name, although in the long run that wouldn’t go in her favour of course. He admitted to himself that he was torn. He liked this girl; she had a real fighting spirit. But she was a pain in the arse and he just couldn’t let her go.

The sound of footsteps drifted into the room from the corridor outside.

‘Who the fuck is that?’ shouted Drabble, as Jez turned and pointed the gun at the doorway.

Chloe’s heart kept beating far too quickly.

Please help us, whoever you are.

87

Ben came through the doorway and walked over to Jez, who greeted him with a fist-bump.

It took Chloe several moments to appreciate what had just happened. Here was Ben, the man she had been dating; the man in whom she had confided. And he was interacting with these thugs who had roped her up as if she was at the gallows, and who had probably killed her father.

Ben looked up at her. ‘Hello sweetheart. Is everything okay?’

‘Ben, what’s going on? What are you doing here? Do you know these people?’ Her mind was working overtime as she tried to make sense of what was happening.

‘Oh yeah,’ said Ben matter-of-factly. ‘This is my good friend Jez, and this man here is Mr Drabble. He’s not one to get on the wrong side of, but I guess you know that already, huh?’

What was left of her world had just collapsed.

‘You bastard,’ she said simply, not even raising her voice. ‘I trusted you.’

‘Oops, watch out guys, a woman scorned and all that.’

‘All right, all right, enough of this.’ Drabble sounded irritated by the interruption. ‘Shut the fuck up Ben. This is all your fault anyway. I wanted someone I could rely on this time. But all you brought me was another shit-load of trouble.’

Ben looked over at Drabble and the cocky expression drained from his face.

‘I know, but you wanted a girl and you gave me no time. What else could I do? She was new to the firm and the obvious target. I had to take a bit of a punt.’

Drabble breathed out heavily, still clearly irritated by Ben’s presence.

‘A bit of a punt? There must be other girls in that bloody firm that you could have chosen. One’s with a bit less fight in them. Jesus, why pick one you knew nothing about?’

Ben took a step back towards the door. He was starting to feel uneasy about the level of blame coming his way.

‘I thought I had her, you know? I thought I’d persuaded her to do as she was told.’

‘Just fuck off Ben. Go on, get out of here before I do something I’ll regret.’

Ben didn’t need to be asked twice. He hurried out of the room and Jez closed the door. Drabble turned his attention back to Chloe.

‘So you’re telling me you haven’t spoken to the police, but Jez here doesn’t believe you, and I’m not sure what to think. That leaves us in a very difficult position doesn’t it?’

Chloe knew she was fighting for her life, and her father’s life.

‘Mr Drabble, please, I’m telling you the truth. And if you let me out of here I promise I’ll never say anything to anyone. Honestly.’

‘There’s part of me that believes you Miss Webster. But unfortunately they all say that. And I’m a little bit too long in the tooth to fall for it. Or even to run the risk.’

She didn’t know what else to say. There must be some way to change his mind.

‘Mr Drabble, do you have children of your own?’

‘Ah, a very good try Miss Webster, but we’re not going down that track I’m afraid. Listen, I’m very sorry, but I have to go. Please forgive me. I wish things could be different.’ He turned to Jez. ‘You know what to do.’

Drabble left the room and Jez grinned up at Chloe. To his obvious surprise Ben strolled back into the room and stood next to him, the cocky look back on his face.

‘I thought you’d run away,’ scoffed Jez.

‘Me? No. I was just getting out of Drabble’s way until he left. I’d hate to miss the show.’

Chloe’s blood ran cold.

88

‘It’s just down here on the right. There it is, that place with the blue roof. Some kind of old warehouse I think. Drabble uses places like this all the time for his dirty work.’ Mickey slapped the wooden truncheon he was holding into the palm of his hand repeatedly. It was a sign of nerves, or excitement, or both. He’d rather have a gun with him, but the cupboard at the club was empty, and he had a pretty good idea who had them. ‘They’ll be armed you know.’

The Timer nodded. ‘I know Mickey. Don’t worry, I’m ready for anything this time. So what’s he doing down here today then?’ The Timer showed no signs of nerves at all, but inside his heart was beating like a drum. This was the final curtain, and then it would be his time to take a bow and leave it all behind. ‘So you reckon Jez’ll be with him?’

‘Yeah I think so. I haven’t seen him today, but I don’t know where else he’d be.’

The Timer pulled the car up short of where Mickey had been pointing. ‘Come on then, let’s get going.’

They climbed out and approached the building with care, keeping low against a small concrete wall which ran up the side of the property.

‘You go round the back Mickey and try to find a way in. I’ll give you a minute or two and then I’ll go in the front. See you inside. And be careful.’

‘Okay. Good luck mate.’ Mickey slapped the Timer on the back and made his way down the side of the building. A passageway took him between the warehouse and the neighbouring property, and ended at a dilapidated wooden gate. He pushed it open without too much effort and rounded the corner to the rear side of the warehouse.

It was then that he saw Drabble leaving the building. He couldn’t fail to recognise the large frame and the expensive dark suit walking away from him across the back yard of the warehouse towards a gate, beyond which stood Drabble’s parked car.

Mickey set off after him trying hard to make as little noise as possible on the gravel covered yard, but as he approached, Drabble must have sensed something and the big man turned to face him.

‘Mickey, what the hell are you doing here? I told you to watch the club. You haven’t left those two idiots in charge have you?’

Mickey pulled out the wooden cudgel and Drabble raised his hands and took a step back. ‘Come on now Mickey, don’t be an idiot. There’s no need to get over excited lad. Don’t do anything you’ll regret. Put it away and we’ll forget all about it.’

But it was too late for that. Mickey had worked for Drabble for many years and had never received any respect, never felt like part of the family. The rage that he’d kept deep within him so many times in the past came roaring to the surface and there was no stopping it now as it broke free and engulfed his every action. He approached Drabble and swung the truncheon hard at the large man’s head. Drabble instinctively put his arm up and took the full force of the blow on his wrist.

‘Mickey, get a grip of yourself. I don’t want to have to hurt you. Pack it in.’ Drabble held his forearm and rubbed at it as Mickey drew back the club and aimed another blow at Drabble’s head. Before he had chance to land it, Drabble kicked out fast and hard, making contact between Mickey’s legs with incredible force. The intense pain ensured that Mickey fell to the ground, unable to catch his breath, gasping and coughing, writhing on the gravel. The rage was gone in an instant. It was over, and he already regretted his actions. As he lay there, Drabble reached inside his coat and pulled out a knife. He knelt down, unconcerned about his suit, and took a fistful of Mickey’s hair, pulling the boy’s face up close to his own.

‘Mickey, you silly lad. What do you think you’re doing? How many people do you think have tried to do what you’ve just tried? Do you think I’ve just been lucky all these years? And what the hell do you think your mother would say if she was here now?’

He ran the knife across Mickey’s throat and blood instantly appeared and dribbled down his neck like a line of red icicles. Mickey groaned and gurgled, but he was unable to make a coherent sound as he began to choke on his own blood. Drabble pulled the younger man close to him and held him until he died. He’d promised Mickey’s mother all those years ago that he’d look out for him, and somehow he’d failed, but what choice did he have? After laying him down gently on the cold ground, he stood up and headed off towards his car, brushing dust from his suit as he went.

A tear stabbed at the corner of his eye.

89

‘So here we are at last Miss Webster. Just you, me and lover boy here.’ Jez was clearly enjoying every minute of this and Chloe knew there was no way out for her now. She looked again at her father in the chair next to her but he was still unconscious. She felt completely alone and empty, all hope gone. Even the overwhelming sense of fear had eased. She closed her eyes and let happy memories fill her mind. Her mother appeared in her thoughts and she smiled as a sense of warmth and wellbeing overcame her body.

I’m coming mum. I’m coming.

‘Why is she smiling?’ Ben sounded astonished. ‘We’re about to kill her and she’s smiling. What’s that all about?’

‘I guess she’s making peace with herself or something.’

Chloe’s father moaned and began to sway from side to side in his chair. The tight bindings meant that the chair rocked with him, the wooden legs making a rhythmic clacking sound on the concrete floor of the warehouse.

‘Aye aye, dad’s awake is he?’ sneered Jez.

Chloe opened her eyes and saw her father fall onto his side as the chair lost its balance and toppled over. His head hit the floor and it seemed to bring him back to full consciousness. The sight of his own daughter stood there with a noose around her neck made him cry out and begin to thrash wildly against the bindings that still secured him to the chair.

‘Come on Ben, this is great. We’ve got another spectator here. Give me a hand.’

Together they pulled the chair back upright and carried it to the corner of the room, wedging it into the angle to prevent any more movement. Jack was still trying to release himself from the chair. He was obviously in some discomfort as he did so but it was also apparent that he would do anything to get out of that chair if he could.

Jez laughed. ‘I’d just sit still if I were you old man. You’re never gonna get that tape off, it’s far too strong. Don’t worry, it’ll soon be your turn. Just sit back and enjoy the show.’

But that was the last thing Jack intended to do. He continued to struggle and shout and the irritation on Jez’s face was obvious. He strolled back over to Jack and slapped him hard across the face.

‘Now pack it in,’ he shouted. ‘You might not believe this, but I could make this far worse for both of you than it already is.’

‘Dad, it’s okay, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.’ Chloe hated to see her father so agitated and her words made him stop and stare at her. She looked into his deep blue eyes and smiled. ‘I’ll be fine.’

‘Right, I’ve had enough of this,’ barked Jez. ‘It’s time to get this done and get out of here.’

He marched over to Chloe and kicked the chair out from under her feet. It took a split second for her to realise what he’d done, but the grip around her neck quickly left her in no doubt. The suffocation was instant and as she thrashed around hopelessly, she could only hear her father’s desperate scream as the darkness surrounded her.

90

The Timer had waited a couple of minutes to give Mickey a chance to find a way in at the back of the warehouse. Once he’d entered the small reception area at the front, he knew instantly that something was happening. He could hear shouting. It sounded like an older man. Other voices could be heard too. And was that a female voice?

What the hell is Drabble doing in there?

A corridor led him from the reception area past a variety of large rooms. The place looked like it hadn’t been used for years, and vandals had seemingly enjoyed themselves pulling it to pieces. He followed the commotion that had greeted him when he first entered the building, sensing that it was coming from a room further down on the left hand side.

More shouting, then a woman’s voice again. It sounded scared but reassuring. He couldn’t make out the exact words. As he moved nearer he heard a man’s voice which he instantly recognised. It was Jez. He paused as things went very quiet for a moment, and the next thing he heard made him flinch. A man let out a scream that was full of dread and fear, like nothing he had heard before. It was accompanied by yobbish cheering.

He gripped his gun tightly and eased his way into the room from where the noise was emanating. The sight which greeted him was one that would stay with him for a very long time. A girl was hanging by the neck, her legs thrashing around involuntarily. Jez and another man were celebrating their catch, backs to the entrance, unaware of the Timer’s presence, whilst an older man sat bound to a chair in the corner, head bowed to the floor.

It only took the Timer a few seconds for recognition to strike him. Standing next to Jez was a guy from the law firm. The name Ben rang a bell for some reason. And the girl on the rope, she was also from the law firm, the girl he’d been to see on Drabble’s behalf.

Without hesitation the Timer did what he’d come here to do and shot Jez in the back of the head. Before the echo of the gunshot had even faded, his victim’s knees gave way and he crumpled to the floor in silence. Ben instinctively dived to the floor alongside him and covered his own head, already begging for his life. The Timer ran over to the girl and lifted her weight onto his shoulder. She let out a gasp as he did so and filled her lungs with air.

‘Don’t worry love, you’ll be okay. Looks like I’m just in time. Just try to keep still.’ He reached for his knife and sliced through the rope above her head, gently setting her down on the concrete. He looked at the man in the chair, who stared with disbelief, tears flowing down his face. The Timer turned to Ben.

‘What the fuck is going on here? Where’s Drabble?’

‘Please don’t shoot! I don’t know. He left ages ago.’

The Timer pointed his gun at Ben’s head.

‘Don’t.’ It was the faintest of voices but the word was enough to stop him from pulling the trigger. He turned to see the girl looking up at him from the dusty floor.

‘It’s Miss Webster isn’t it? I see you managed to get yourself into a whole shit-load of trouble then? It doesn’t really surprise me; I was worried about you that first day we met at the law firm. A little too strong-willed for your own good I thought, especially to be mixed up with these people.’ He looked again at the man in the chair. ‘Who’s he?’

‘My father.’ Chloe was struggling to make herself heard. She was having difficulty swallowing, her throat felt like someone had poured sawdust down it and the pain was unrelenting. ‘Why are you here Mr Crawford? Actually, don’t tell me, I don’t care. And I guess that’s not your real name either…’

The Timer winked at her and walked over to Jack, flicking his knife through the bindings which restrained him in the chair.

‘Go and see to your daughter Mr Webster. She’s had a nasty experience.’

Jack said nothing. He limped across and knelt over his daughter. The first aid training he’d received in the army took over as he checked her out as best he could.

The Timer returned his attention to Ben, who was still cowering on the floor like a scared child.

‘Miss Webster has asked me not to shoot you. What do you think about that?’

Ben removed his hands from his head and peered up at the timer.

‘Well? What have you got to say to her? If you’d done that to me I’d want to kill you. I’d probably hang you up there myself.’

Chloe could see Ben from where she was lying. He was visibly shaking, and all the colour had drained from his face. He said nothing.

‘No? Not a word for the lady? How about a sorry or a thank you?’

Ben just looked forlorn and dropped his eyes to the ground.

‘You pathetic little fuck.’ The Timer’s kick connected with Ben’s jaw, emitting a sickening crack. He went over with a groan and didn’t move again.

The Timer checked his watch, and then the sound of a child crying drifted into the room from the corridor beyond.

91

‘George!’ Chloe was sure she recognised the voice. ‘Oh my God, it’s George. Where is he?’ She struggled to her feet despite her father’s protests and headed towards the corridor.

‘Be careful Miss Webster, we don’t know who else is around. Drabble could be anywhere.’ The Timer made it to the corridor before her and looked up and down it. There was certainly no sign of anyone else.

‘You stay here with your father. I’ll fetch the child.’

Chloe nodded and sat down on the chair to which her father had been secured earlier. She simply didn’t have the energy to argue.

‘Are you okay dad? What did they do to you?’

Her father sighed. He picked the other chair up and placed it next to his daughter. Sitting down he put his arm around her and pulled her close to him.

‘Like a silly old sod I was worried about you. I know I shouldn’t have interfered but this time I really was concerned. I went to your firm to speak to someone about you…’

‘You did what? Dad, why did you do that? Who did you talk to?’

‘Well at first I met this really nice fellow. Ray, I think his name was. He reassured me and said you were doing very well. Then he came in.’ He pointed at Ben who was still unconscious on the floor. ‘He wasn’t really telling me anything and so I made up a few things to spook him. Told him I knew about what he’d been doing. I said something about dodgy deals and money and anything else I thought would make him talk.’

‘Dad!’

‘I know, but I could see he was worried and I thought I was getting somewhere. And then he told me there was someone I needed to meet; someone who could put my mind at rest.’

Chloe looked startled. ‘And who was that?’

‘Well I don’t know really. He took me to this snooker club and when I got there I saw this big bloke in a suit and after that I don’t remember anything. I reckon they must have battered me, judging by the pain I’m feeling now.’

‘Oh dad, we need to get you to hospital.’

‘Yes, and you. Get that neck checked out.’

They smiled at each other, just as a young boy came toddling into the room.

‘Chloe!’ he shouted and ran to her. She took him in her arms and hugged him, oblivious to the throbbing around her neck.

‘See? I told you I’d come back for you didn’t I? Now George, there’s someone I want you to meet. This is my dad. His name’s Jack.’

‘Hello Jack,’ said George.

‘Well hello there little fellow. It’s very nice to meet you.’

George grinned and buried his face into Chloe’s shoulder.

‘George, where’s the man who came to find you? Is he here?’ Chloe looked out into the corridor but could see no sign of the Timer from where she sat.

‘Gone,’ said George. ‘He told me to give this to you.’

Chloe took the mobile phone from George. After pressing the three numbers, she placed it to her ear and waited for an answer.

‘Yes, hello. Police please.’

I should have done this days ago.

92

The Timer smiled to himself as he left. Bloody kids. He loved them all and would never do anything to hurt them. It had always been his weakness, and when his own girls came along it just reinforced the feeling. Knowing George would be okay with the girl and her father, he now had to think of himself. It was time to go home and get his family out of here. Once they were safe, he could think about dealing with Drabble. He wasn’t sure yet exactly how he’d do that, but he knew it had to be done if he ever wanted to live without having to look constantly over his shoulder.

He strolled out into the cool air, confident he was safe for the time being. Drabble had gone, Jez was dead, as were the two thugs at the club. So that just left Mickey. Mickey! He hadn’t given the lad another thought after he’d entered the warehouse. Where the hell was he?

He ran back into the old building and quickly checked in the abandoned rooms. They were all empty as he expected. He noticed the girl on the phone as he passed by and knew he had to get out of here soon. Running back outside, he scanned the yard at the back of the warehouse.

‘Mickey!’ he called. ‘Mickey!’

And then he saw him. He ran over to where Mickey lay, dropping to his knees and taking his friend’s head in his hands.

‘Mickey? Mickey? Wake up son, come on. Mickey!’ But he knew it was pointless. There was no sign of life. His body was already cold from the freezing winter air and a huge amount of blood had soaked the front of his jacket. A gaping wound across his neck looked angry and raw in the fading, late afternoon sunshine.

‘Ah, Jesus Mickey. What have you done?’

It had to be Drabble. They must have run into each other when Drabble left. Mickey would have thought he could take him, but in truth he never stood a chance, especially without a gun. Drabble was not only big and strong, but he was a street-fighter. He’d grown up on some of the toughest streets in the city, and he knew how to look after himself.

The Timer laid Mickey back down on the ground and walked away. Any doubt about his next move was gone. He had to get rid of Drabble. He owed it to Mickey. He owed it to the girl and her father. And he owed it to himself.

93

A pitiful groan told them that Ben was starting to come round. He rolled onto his side and looked over at the three of them sat waiting for the police to arrive. Chloe could see that his jaw was either broken or dislocated. It certainly didn’t look right in any case.

‘Why?’ she said, simply.

‘I had no choice.’ He winced as he spoke, clearly in considerable pain. His jaw didn’t move with the words, which were slurred and difficult to comprehend. ‘I didn’t want to get involved but you’ve seen what they’re like. They never take no for an answer. Ever.’

Chloe felt just a tinge of sympathy. In a way they’d both fallen into the same trap. The wrong place at the wrong time. But she never would have become an integral part of the gang as Ben seems to have done.

‘What about Ray? Is he involved in all this too?’ His answer surprised her.

‘No. Ray’s just a difficult person to get along with. He’s not a bad man; he just likes to do a good job for his clients. He’ll get into trouble when the authorities start crawling all over this, but only for being stupid and closing his eyes to some pretty obvious signs.’

‘And Drake?’

‘No, he’s as straight as they come. Too busy to notice what was going on around him.’ He winced again and held his jaw. ‘My head hurts.’

‘This is very serious stuff you’ve been messing about with you know. I mean, children? What were you thinking Ben?’

But he didn’t say anything else. He rested his head on the concrete, closed his eyes and lost consciousness. Chloe shuffled in her chair trying to get comfortable. George wouldn’t let go of her and his weight was starting to take its toll. Her father sat next to her silently, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

The distant sirens were a welcome sound, quickly becoming deafening wails as blue lights flashed into the room from outside the window. Several burly officers streamed in and before long Ben was handcuffed and being taken away on a stretcher. A policewoman and a female social worker approached Chloe and asked her about the child. She explained who he was and they made to take him from her.

‘No!’ cried George and hung on even tighter.

Chloe put her mouth to his ear and spoke gently to him.

‘George, you need to go with these people. You are safe now I promise. I need to go to hospital to see a doctor and they’ll make me better. You do want me to get better don’t you George?’

‘Yes,’ he said simply, and released his grip. ‘Will you come and see me?’

‘Of course I will silly. And we need to find out how your mu…’ She stopped, suddenly remembering that Chelsie had been put into a coma. She looked at the social worker who smiled and nodded at her knowingly. ‘We need to go and see your mummy.’

‘Yes! Mummy!’ And with that he happily clasped the hand of the social worker and headed off to an ambulance.

A couple of paramedics checked that Chloe had no obvious neck injuries and then helped her to her feet. She addressed the policewoman who was still there, no doubt waiting to question her. ‘Have you dealt with Mr Lightbody at the local authority? I told you about him on the phone.’

‘Don’t worry, Chloe, it’s all in hand. George is safe and everyone is being questioned. We’ll sort it all out. I’ll need to speak to you, and your father too, once you’re settled in hospital. I’ll follow you in the ambulance.’

Good. That gives me just enough time to decide what I’m going to say, thought Chloe.

94

Chloe finally felt like it was all over as she relaxed on the stark white hospital bed. Her father lay in the next bay and a young doctor was checking him over behind a plastic curtain. Chloe herself had been given the all clear. She would probably have a stiff neck for a few days but the discomfort would fade, as would the redness and bruises around her throat. Her broken nose might not ever look the same again but it would mend in time. On the other hand, the memory of the incident would take much longer to heal. Every time she closed her eyes she was back in that room, swinging on that rope, while the two men watched and jeered. Whoever Mr Crawford was, she owed him her life. And her father’s life. He was undoubtedly next on their list. She shuddered and looked across at her father as the doctor pulled back the curtain and headed off down the ward.

‘Is everything all right dad? What did the doctor say?’ she asked, trying to hide the concern in her voice.

‘She said I’ll be fine. A good number of bruises and a cracked rib or two; nothing that won’t heal. We were lucky there kiddo, it could easily have gone the other way.’ His voice was unsteady and he too was clearly still haunted by the whole thing. ‘Who was that guy who saved us?’

‘I honestly don’t know. I’ve come across him before at work, but he’s definitely not who I thought he was.’

‘Hello Chloe, I’m PC Hutchings. The doctor said you were up to answering a few questions now.’ The policewoman from the warehouse breezed in and pulled up a plastic chair. ‘I won’t keep you long. I think we might have spoken once before on the telephone? About Miss Swanson?’

‘Yeah, I think we probably did. What do you need to know?’ Chloe was exhausted and really didn’t feel like doing this now. ‘I’m really tired.’

‘I’ll try not to keep you long. I just have a few questions. First of all, I guess I’d like to know who’s responsible for the three bodies at the warehouse where we found you. Any information you can give me would be…’

‘Three bodies?’

‘Yes… Oh sorry, you probably don’t know yet. Mr Howson… Ben Howson… he died shortly after being admitted here. He took a nasty blow to the head I think. It resulted in a bleed on his brain and he never regained consciousness apparently. You knew him didn’t you?’

‘I did, yes. We worked together.’ Chloe felt genuinely sorry. She still believed he had become involved in something which had snowballed out of control. After all, she was wrapped up in the same thing herself. Did they really ever have a chance to get out? She’d tried but it had almost cost her dearly.

‘And the third?’ she asked wearily. ‘You said there were three bodies.’

‘Yes, as well as the man inside the warehouse we found the body of a younger man outside. Do you know who that might be?’

‘No I don’t, sorry. But a man had left the warehouse a little while before you arrived. Mr Drabble they called him. But he wasn’t what I would call young.’

‘Ah yes, we’re familiar with Mr Drabble. He would never have told you his name unless he was sure you weren’t going to be around to repeat it. We’ll need you to testify against him, once we’ve found him of course.’

‘Fine,’ Chloe didn’t care what she was agreeing to; she just wanted it all to be over.

PC Hutchings checked back through her notes, tapping her pencil on her notebook as she did so.

‘So if Drabble left earlier, and you never saw the young lad outside, who killed Howson and the other guy?’

‘They killed each other,’ said Chloe confidently. Her father looked across at her, but she ignored him. ‘Ben had a change of heart and tried to back out and there was a fight. Jez kicked him and he fired a shot which must have hit Jez in the head. At least, that’s what I assume from the injuries. Of course, I wasn’t paying too much attention at that stage, seeing as though I was dangling on the end of a rope.’

PC Hutchings went quiet again and made a clicking noise with her tongue at the top of her mouth.

‘So who cut you down?’

‘Ben did. He cut the rope and freed my father, and then he collapsed. To be honest it’s all a bit of a haze really.’

The policewoman turned to Chloe’s father.

‘Is that how you remember it Mr Webster?’

‘To be honest I wasn’t looking, love. My daughter was hanging from a rope in front of me and I chose not to watch. I’m sure you’ll understand that.’

‘Oh I do Mr Webster. There are just a couple of things that don’t quite add up. You see, the only gun we found was tucked into the other man’s belt. Why would Ben put it there after he’d used it? Also, no knife has been recovered from the room, so I’m a little unsure as to how he could have cut you down.’

‘Well perhaps I’ve not remembered it exactly right. As I say, it was a very distressing time. They were arguing and fighting and I heard a gunshot. Then I dropped to the floor when the rope was cut, or broke, or whatever. ’ Chloe yawned and slid down into her bed. ‘Can we do this another time? I’m so tired.’

‘Okay Miss Webster. Listen, thank you for your help. We’ll get looking for Drabble. I will need to speak to you again, but I’ll leave you and your father in peace for now.’

As the policewoman left the room, Jack raised his eyebrows expectantly, a half-smile on his face.

‘He saved us dad. And George. I dread to think what would have happened if he hadn’t turned up. Whoever he is, I’m not about to be responsible for locking him up for twenty five years if I can help it.’

Her father smiled. She was so loyal, and he loved that about her. ‘That’s my girl,’ he said.

95

‘Chloe!’ squealed George with delight as he pulled away from the social worker and ran down the ward.

‘Hello little man. How’re you doing?’ Chloe found herself smiling for the first time in a while. George leapt onto her bed and wrapped his arms around her, causing her to wince as her neck jolted.

‘I see you’re okay then George. Have you seen the nice doctor.’

‘Yep. He gave me a lollypop.’

‘Lucky you. I haven’t been given a lollypop.’

George looked up at her. ‘Haven’t you? I’ll go and get you one.’

She laughed and hugged him tightly. She really had grown fond of the boy over the last couple of days and was relieved to see that he had apparently came through the recent events unscathed.

‘Come on George, we need to go.’ The social worker was firm but not unpleasant.

‘Where are you taking him?’ asked Chloe.

‘To see his mother.’ She mouthed the words at Chloe so as not to ruin the surprise for George.

‘I don’t want to go. I want to stay with Chloe.’

Chloe shuffled up the bed to a sitting position and gently eased George on to her so that he was sitting on her legs and looking her in the eyes.

‘Do you know what George? I think you’re really gonna like the place you’re going to now. This nice lady’s got a brilliant surprise for you. Why don’t you go and see what it is and then come back and tell me all about it.’

‘But I like it here.’ He looked so forlorn that Chloe wanted to hug him and tell him that he could stay here and that he didn’t have to go with the social worker. But she knew he had to go, and she knew he would be glad that he had gone.

‘Go on George. Go and see what the nice lady has for you. And if you don’t like it, you can come straight back here. Is that a deal?’

‘Promise?’

‘I promise. And I haven’t broken any of my promises yet, have I George?’

The trust that the boy had in her was not lost on Chloe and she swallowed the lump that appeared in her throat. He climbed off the bed and took hold of the social worker’s hand again, waving at Chloe as he ambled out of the ward.

And he never came back.

Chloe knew that was a good thing. George had been reunited with his mother; he was where he belonged, safe at last and with the person who loved him the most.

96

The Timer settled himself down on the hillside surrounded by early spring flowers. The morning breeze ruffled his hair as he looked down on the scenic Peak District village of Castlefield. He raised his binoculars and traced a river as it made its way down from the hills opposite, coursed through the centre of the village, looped around the old castle ruins before heading on down the valley towards Sheffield.

He focused the glasses on one particular house set a little way out of the village itself. A sprawling residence built from local stone and surrounded by well-maintained gardens, it was unusual not only because of its sheer scale, but also because of the exceptionally high level of security. Huge metal railings formed an unbroken perimeter around the grounds, and a guard box stood by the main gates. A couple of men dressed in dark suits could be seen roaming the gardens, with dogs pulling on leads in a way which told him they weren’t family pets.

He smiled to himself. It was high security indeed, but not enough to stop him. The night before he’d been over the fence, completed his task and out again before anyone knew he was there. And now he could relax and watch things pan out in just the way he’d planned.

The front door of the house opened and a large man stepped out, holding his coat close to his chest in the breeze and pulling the door shut behind him. Drabble spoke briefly to one of the security men before climbing into the driving seat of a black BMW standing on the expansive gravel driveway.

The Timer was disappointed. He’d hoped that Drabble’s wife would be in the car too. Mickey had told him they had no children, and he’d hoped to remove the whole family in one go. He wasn’t overly concerned about the wife, but he did like to keep things tidy.

He pulled out his mobile phone and dialled a number he knew by heart. Placing the phone to his ear he could hear the cheerful tones as the numbers were relayed down the line.

At that moment the door of the house opened and Mrs Drabble stumbled across to the car in a pair of heels that were simply too high for the surface of the driveway. It didn’t look like she was going with him, rather that she wanted to say something to him or give him something he’d forgotten. She staggered up to the car and leaned into the driver’s window which Drabble had wound down for her. In his ear the Timer heard the phone connect.

A huge explosion ripped through the peaceful landscape. The car disintegrated in the blast as flames soared into the air. Pieces of hot metal were littered across the driveway in front of the house and although one or two of his men started to move towards the wreckage, they soon stopped as the realisation hit them.

Mr and Mrs Drabble were dead.

What perfect timing - two for the price of one. That just leaves Miss Webster.

97

‘So we don’t have to move away after all?’

The Timer looked at his wife. His love for her was absolute and the thought of uprooting her from the life they had made together here had made him hate himself. Or at least, hate his work. His two girls sat either side of her on the sofa and grinned up at him in delight.

‘That’s right. The risk has gone. We’re safe.’

It had been a couple of weeks since he’d disposed of Drabble. He’d heard on the grapevine that what was left of the gang had disbanded, not that it was a huge organisation in the first place. Some of his men had been glad of the opportunity to change direction and start again without repercussions. Others had found similar employment elsewhere. He doubted that anyone would be looking for him, so there was little point in forcing his family to move to a strange town with all that that entailed.

His mobile hummed.

‘I’m sorry I have to take this,’ he said, looking at the screen. ‘I won’t be a minute.’

In the kitchen he placed the phone to his ear and listened.

‘Mr T? Stevie Kirkland. I’m impressed. That was some show you put on at Drabble’s house. I hope you found the cash?’

The Timer said nothing.

‘Good. Now, if you ever need any work you just give me a call and I’m sure I can find something for a man of your talents.’

Silence.

‘Stay in touch.’

The phone went dead. He’d done this one thing for Kirkland because it suited him to get rid of Drabble. Kirkland had told him where Drabble was and provided the explosives. But he wouldn’t be doing anything else for him. The Timer knew that Kirkland was the brains behind the child adoption scam, and that made him feel sick to the stomach. If he saw Kirkland again, it would only be to kill him.

Back in the lounge, his wife and daughters were still sat on the sofa waiting for him. He picked up his youngest daughter and sat down where she had been sitting, placing her on his lap. He put his arm around his wife and eldest daughter and pulled them all close.

‘We’re safe,’ he repeated. No one can harm us now. There are still a few rats running around this city, but there’s plenty of time to catch up with them. For now, we’re safe.’

‘Rats, daddy? I don’t like rats.’

‘Don’t worry angel, daddy will get rid of them. It might take me a while, but I’ll do it. Trust me sweetheart, I’ll make this city safe for you two if it takes me all my life.’

‘Okay daddy.’

His wife looked across at him and the look on his face told her that he meant every word.

And that frightened her to the core.

98

‘Dad, I’m going now. I’ll see you later,’ called Chloe as she put on her coat and opened the front door.

‘Okay love. Hope it all goes well. And Chloe?’

‘Yes dad?’

‘Stay out of trouble.’

She laughed. ‘I will.’

She’d handed in her notice at work shortly after she left hospital. The firm didn’t require her to work it and so she never returned to Anderson, Gormley and Drake. She’d since heard that the firm was under investigation by the Law Society and several staff had been suspended pending the outcome. The police had been asking questions too.

She’d spoken to Ray and arranged to meet him for a coffee. He turned out to be a very pleasant person away from the office. He’d really opened up to her when they met and explained that at that time he was under tremendous stress and that he knew things weren’t right but didn’t know what to do about it. He told her that Drake had taken early retirement although the police continued with their enquiries and he hadn’t been completely exonerated yet. Ray himself had moved on to another law firm in Sheffield and was now much more relaxed. He remained fiercely protective of his clients though. Chloe thought about warning him not to take it too far this time, but she knew he wouldn’t listen.

The conversation had eventually come around to Ben. It was obvious that Ray had no idea about his involvement with Drabble’s gang, and Chloe changed the subject quickly after that.

‘What do you think will happen to the firm?’ she’d asked him.

‘I suspect it will close down. Loads of people are leaving; they don’t want to be associated with the rumours that are doing the rounds, and I can’t blame them really. I guess that’s why I left.’

They’d finished their coffee and agreed to stay in touch, both knowing that they probably wouldn’t. But it was likely they’d come across each other again in their line of work - the Sheffield legal community was a close one – and the thought of that didn’t bother Chloe at all. She’d changed her mind about Ray. Ray Fuller, family lawyer and guardian of his clients. She knew they’d meet again.

She gave her father a hug and reassured him again that she’d be all right. Her new position was as a family lawyer at a small law firm in the North West of Sheffield. She could drive there in a few minutes, and her shiny new Mini sat proudly on the compact driveway next to her father’s car.

It was a beautiful morning and she looked out over the hills surrounding the countryside. How lucky she was to be alive to see this view every day.

Dark thoughts forced their way into her mind and caused a shiver to run the length of her spine.

99

The Timer sat in his car, parked on the hill next to Bradmill railway station. This was certainly a chocolate-box little place and he could see why the girl and her father were attracted to it. He placed his binoculars to his eyes and peered down the hill to the cute little cottage at the bottom.

‘Very nice place you’ve got there Miss Webster,’ he said to himself as he swept his gaze along the line of houses. ‘No wonder you don’t want to leave daddy.’

The front door swung inwards and Chloe appeared in the frame, apparently still holding a conversation with her father.

‘He’s worried about you my dear. And so he should be, he’s your father; that’s what fathers are for. They worry about their little girls, and they look after them.’

He smiled to himself at the sight of Chloe hurrying out to the car. He did like her. She was such an ordinary girl. At least, she was to the outside world. But he knew there was more to her than met the eye. She had an edge to her, a dark side even. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was or why it was there. Something must have happened in her life to make her like that. Maybe it was something to do with her mother not being around. Was she dead? Or had she left them? Either way, it probably cemented her sense of loyalty. She probably reminded him of himself; an ordinary guy with so much more to know.

As she climbed into the car, the Timer pulled out his phone. He smiled to himself as he dialled the number. The tones played merrily in his ear.

And then the phone connected.

100

Chloe jumped at the sound of her own ringtone. She wasn’t sure whether it was a hangover from the experiences of the last few weeks, or because she’d left the volume higher than usual to make sure it woke her in time to leave for her new job that morning. Either way, her heart was racing as she placed the phone to her ear.

‘Hello?’

‘Ah Miss Webster, I’ve been meaning to get in touch. How are you?’

She recognised the voice immediately. She had dreamt about it enough times recently. Sometimes it belonged to the rider of a white winged horse that flew in to sweep her away from her troubles. At other times it belonged to a demon with a hideous grin that caused her to awaken to the sound of her own screams. Hearing it in the early morning sunshine only made her feel calm and she relaxed back into the comfortable driver’s seat.

‘I’m very well. And I’m also glad you called. I never had the chance to thank you.’ She surveyed the hills in the distance not really aware of what she was looking for.

‘Oh there’s no need. I couldn’t just leave you hanging there could I? How’s the boy?’

Chloe didn’t really know the answer to that, but she had heard that he was back with his mother, so she knew he was happy and well looked after.

‘Yeah, he’s doing fine. Why’d you ask?’

‘Oh you know - kids, they get to me. They shouldn’t be involved in things like that.’

‘I know what you mean.’ Chloe nodded as she spoke.

‘I need to thank you too don’t I, Miss Webster?’

‘Why’s that?’ She checked her make-up in the mirror.

‘I gather you didn’t say anything to the police about me.’

‘Ah, but how do you know that for sure?’ She was surprised that she felt relaxed enough with this gangster to tease him.

‘Well did you?’

‘No,’ admitted Chloe. ‘I guess I never got round to it.’

‘Why not?’

‘You saved my life. You saved several lives that day. I couldn’t just hand you over to the police on a plate. I reckon you’re okay really.’ She paused. ‘I read about Drabble in the local paper. Did you have anything to do with that?’

‘Me? No. I heard it was the Kirklands. They were furious with him for messing up their new business arrangement.’

Chloe smiled to herself. ‘Well, I suppose we all have our little secrets don’t we?’

‘We do Miss Webster. We have more in common than you’re prepared to admit. If you ever need any help, just give me a call. Use this number – keep it safe - and if I can help you, I will.’

‘I might just do that.’

‘Good. You take care now.’

The line went dead and Chloe placed the phone in her bag. She sat for a moment and thought about the man she’d just spoken to, and wondered who he really was.

Come on girl, time for a new start.

Bouncing her hands on the top of the steering wheel, she once again admired her new car.

Yes, we all have our little secrets, and you are one of mine you gorgeous little car. Not bad for ten thousand pounds.

She roared off the drive and sped up the hill to her new job.

*   *   *

Now try a preview of the next Chloe Webster thriller, available from Amazon, paperback and on Kindle.

Family Divisions

By

Alex Highcliffe

1

Gavin cursed and returned to the Google home page.

Come on, where the hell are you?

He banged his fist down hard in frustration, oblivious to the resulting pain that gnawed at his wrist. Grasping his head in his hands, he rested his elbows on the cheap wooden table. If only his mind would clear. It had been fuzzy for days, vague and incoherent, and a constant whine sounded in his ear, refusing to allow him the silence he needed to think. He couldn’t sleep, he hardly ever slept. And it was the details he couldn’t cope with. What was his first name again? John? Jim? Jake?

Damn this bloody headache.

Standing up suddenly and causing the chair to topple over backwards with a crash onto the bare floorboards, he paced over to the window and peered out through the filthy glass. The drizzle outside meant the main street was unusually quiet for the time of morning. The odd car glided over the wet road surface with its lights shining out from the misty dampness. His eye caught the dark passageway which ran down the side of the local supermarket across the road. He’d sheltered in an alley just like it on the day of the attack, cowering like a scared animal, whilst his best friend Deano lay bleeding to death out in the road, helpless and alone. As the images became too real in his mind he closed his eyes and dropped to the floor. The pain sheared through his thoughts and he pushed the top of his head down into the hard floorboards as he rocked to and fro on his knees, calling his dead friend’s name as he did so. The relentless pounding of gunfire now thumped inside his skull. Would it ever leave him alone? Why could he still hear it so long after the event?

The barrage seemed to be coming from the bedsit upstairs. How did they get up there? How long had they been there? What did they want?

He rolled under his bed, flinching as he crashed his elbows on the hard floor, curling into a ball with the aim of self-preservation. Waiting in the dust he covered his ears and closed his eyes, comforted by the darkness that swathed him.

The silence he craved suddenly filled the room once more as he stared at the underside of his bed; the only banging now came from his own heartbeat. Climbing out slowly from his hiding place he reached for the fallen chair and slumped back down in front of the laptop. He typed the surname again. And then the first name came to him in a rare moment of clarity.

Got it!

He was so used to calling him Sergeant that his name had escaped him, buried in distant memories that he’d tried so hard to supress. But he’d got it. Yes, that was it, without a doubt.

He typed it quickly into the search engine.

One more click and it flashed onto the screen before him in an instant - a newspaper story from the Sheffield Daily. He scanned the article and it told him just what he needed to know. He was in Sheffield, or at least a village just outside it. Reading on for more information, he smiled inwardly to himself.

This is gonna be so easy.

He continued to peruse the story, learning as much as he could about his target.

Clicking on a thumbnail photograph it expanded to fill the entire screen. It was a picture of that familiar face, together with his daughter. Staring at it, the rage inside him began to resurface, and as it did so the whining became unbearable and the pounding restarted as the darkness descended once more.

‘Here I come, pal, here I come!’ He was unaware of just how loudly he’d shouted the words, but this time he didn’t hear the occupant of the bedsit upstairs banging his walking stick on the floor, hoping in vain to attract the attention of his younger neighbour.

2

Chloe Webster pulled her Mini up onto the gravel parking area in front of the offices of Harrison Webb solicitors. She checked what little make-up she had applied in the mirror and retied her dark, shoulder-length hair back into a ponytail. Stepping out of the car into the late August sunshine, she stopped for a moment as she often did and gazed out across the hills and woodland of north-west Sheffield. The view changed as the seasons passed, and at this end of the summer the whole scene was an array of various shades of green. It never failed to impress her and she knew she was lucky to work in such beautiful surroundings. Having spent a period last year working in the city, she felt so much more at home in the rural setting of Cliffside. The locals spent many an hour arguing over whether it was a large village, a small town or simply a suburb of Sheffield, but whatever it was, it was a safe and friendly place which Chloe had come to love since starting work here just over a year ago. At twenty six, she knew she was getting a little old to still be living with her father, and when she did eventually decide to find a place of her own, she would certainly be tempted to settle down here.

‘Hi Chloe. Good weekend?’

‘Oh, hello Sarah. Yes, very peaceful thanks. Just what I needed. But what about you; did you get to speak to your parents?’

Sarah was several years younger than Chloe and had worked on the reception desk at Harrison Webb since she left school at sixteen. She looked at Chloe and squinted into the sunshine, brushing her loose blonde hair to one side in the early morning breeze. She grinned from ear to ear.

‘Yes I did. And guess what? They agree with you. They think I should leave and start college this year. That means in about three weeks’ time!’ She shrieked with excitement as she spoke, eyes now wide open and sparkling. Chloe took a step towards her, bending over to embrace her. She liked Sarah and marvelled at the challenges that she’d faced and overcome in her short life. Hit by a drunk driver when she was twelve years old, she hadn’t been able to take a single step since. But she had raced cars and ridden horses and parachuted out of aeroplanes and done numerous other things which meant that the phrase confined to a wheelchair just didn’t really suit her.

‘That’s fantastic news. I was sure they’d go for it. They must know it’s the best thing for you in the long run. So it’s law, English and history A levels is it?’

‘Yes, and then on to a law degree, hopefully at Sheffield University.’

‘Oh I’m so pleased Sarah. Let’s celebrate at lunchtime. The drinks are on me!’

Chloe took hold of the wheelchair as they continued their conversation and helped Sarah up the single low step to the front door of the offices. It was an impressive Edwardian building that used to be the village school. Built of red brick with a steep slate roof, there were still obvious signs of its former use. Low steel railings formed a perimeter around the building and the word “School” was etched into the concrete lintel above the main doors. A small tower stood proudly at one end of the roof which still housed the old school bell.

Sarah glided over to the reception area and began to organise her day’s work. Chloe headed to her own office located straight down the main corridor from reception.

‘Ah good, you’re here. We have much to discuss.’ The voice was immaculate and soothing with just a hint of a West Yorkshire accent.

‘Good morning Rakesh. I’ll be with you in a second; let me just dump these things in my office.’

‘Okay, but don’t keep me waiting too long. You’re going to want to hear this.’

Chloe smiled and pushed her office door open gently with her elbow. The sun was streaming in through the window, spreading a gentle light across the room. It was neat and professional with just enough personal touches to make it feel welcoming. The temperature was already beginning to rise and the old school building might have been quaint, but it certainly had no air conditioning. She nudged the window open and then flicked the blinds closed, removing her jacket and hanging it on a peg behind the door. She scanned her computer for emails, and checked her phone messages. Once she was satisfied that nothing urgent required her attention, she wandered up the corridor to Rakesh’s office. She knocked once and entered, aware that he was expecting her.

‘Hi Rakesh. How are you today? It’s so hot in here again isn’t it?’

‘Oh I’m fine thanks. Just fine.’

She stared at him. He was a young looking thirty eight and extremely athletic. He cycled everywhere and looked after himself very well. She always found him engaging, but on this occasion he was also quite giddy. It was such a contrast to the sharp-suited cool guy that he usually was.

‘Are you okay Rakesh? You’re like a kid at Christmas.’

He laughed and pointed to a chair.

‘Well sit down and I’ll tell you.’

3

Mrs Willard took in the views over Damflask reservoir and breathed in the fresh air, enjoying the warmth of the morning sun on her face. Several canoes tore through the water as the young rowers from the boat club went about their morning training sessions. This was the first day of her retirement and she felt as fit as a fiddle, her lungs seemingly working to their full capacity. Her husband was at work of course, still having another fifteen years or so to go before he could retire. It wasn’t that he was younger than her. In fact, he had just turned fifty and she wouldn’t reach that age for a couple of years yet.

She closed her eyes as the tears pricked in the breeze. The truth was she would never reach that age. She could still hear the doctor’s voice as if it were yesterday.

I’m sorry Mrs Willard, but the cancer has spread and there isn’t much more we can do for you.

Or words to that effect; she hadn’t really heard anything after he’d confirmed that it had spread. Her worst fear had come to fruition; the cancer was in her lungs and this time it was here to stay.

She continued to stroll along the water’s edge. Her senses seemed so much more acute these days. She could smell the vegetation around her and hear the water lapping on the bank. She guessed that she had always been able to sense such things, but now she was aware of them; aware of how precious they were and how lucky she was to be here.

She thought about her husband, and knew that he’d be okay without her. They’d never had a particularly wonderful relationship and she often wondered whether their marriage would survive until they both retired. Now she’d never know. And despite all those years yearning for a child and yet never being lucky enough to be blessed with one, part of her was glad that she wouldn’t be leaving any behind. Of course, there was Tinker, but the old spaniel might be gone before she was.

At the thought of her dog her mind returned to the present.

‘Tinker!’ she called, looking around for her faithful companion, shielding her eyes from the low sun as she looked further afield. He never strayed too far away. His age meant that he couldn’t chase after rabbits now, but he still liked to poke around in the hedgerows.

‘Tinker! Here boy!’

The first nagging thoughts of doubt started to creep into her mind. He must have lagged behind her and found something very interesting for him to ignore her.

And then the barking started. Now that was unusual. He didn’t even bother to bark at other dogs or visitors to the house these days.

Oh Tinker, what on earth have you found?

Mrs Willard began to retrace her steps along the bank, looking into the thick shrubs which loved the moisture-rich soil around the edge of the water. She drew level with where the barking was coming from and peered into the thick undergrowth standing between her and the reservoir, in an attempt to catch a glimpse of what all the fuss was about. She shouted into the darkness.

‘Tinker, come on boy, we need to get home soon!’

But the dog continued with its ferocious barking. Mrs Willard sighed, zipped up her lightweight coat for protection and eased her way into the bushes, feet sinking into the mud. A twig scratched at her face as she carefully made her way down the banking. The last thing she needed was to slip and end up in the lake. She could now make out the shape of the spaniel, standing very still but barking loudly. She pushed herself out onto the small strip of boggy land between the bushes and the water and looked at her beloved pet.

‘Now what is all the fuss about? Why have you dragged me all the way down here…’

Her eyes traced from the dog to the body lying a couple of yards away. Covered in wet mud, it hadn’t been instantly recognisable as a human corpse. The initial shock kept her silent for a moment or two, but when the full horror of it hit, her scream echoed down the length of the reservoir.

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