Parsons had no time for this kind of admission. Collectively, the people round this table were in the business of returning the child to its parents. Every tool in
Causeway
’s box was available to make sure that happened.
‘Like what, boss?’ Dalton was decidedly punchy.
‘Like comms. We need to be listening to everything that goes into and out of that house.’
‘We’re doing our best, boss.’ It was Jimmy Suttle. ‘Helen and the techie between them are monitoring all the landline calls. Plus we’ve got a divert on the landline into Stu Norcliffe’s place.’
‘What about Mackenzie’s mobe? The daughter? The wife? What about any undeclared mobes they might have hanging around? What about Mackenzie’s line at the hotel?’
Dalton’s eyes rolled. ‘Are you rippered up for that?’
‘No, but we can put a bid in. This is a high-risk Misper. We’re talking a Grade One life in danger. Are you telling me we can’t stretch to a couple more RIPAs?’
The Regulation of Investigatory Powers Act demanded top-level authorisation for comms intercepts without the owner’s permission. Dalton shrugged. He had a great deal of experience in this field. Every authorisation for a comms intercept had to meet extremely tight criteria. The RIPA bar was always set higher than you expected.
Suttle said he’d set the wheels in motion, talk to the uniformed Superintendent downstairs, see how far he was prepared to push it.
Helen Christian caught Parsons’ eye. ‘I was talking to Mackenzie first thing just now,’ she said. ‘He phoned in. I don’t know what it’s worth but he’s come up with a name.’
‘Who is it?’
‘Cesar Dobroslaw.’ She was reading from her notepad. ‘Apparently Mackenzie has had some dealings with him recently. He’s saying there’s no love lost. The guy’s been pushing to set some kind of operation up in Pompey and Mackenzie wouldn’t have it.’
‘What kind of operation?’
‘He didn’t say, boss, but Mackenzie was playing the vigilante - you know, Citizen Joe - so it must have been dodgy. His point was that the guy was extremely pissed off with him so in Mackenzie’s view anything might be possible.’
‘Even a kidnapping?’
‘Even that. Stu Norcliffe told him about the way we got knocked back on the traffic cameras and how we’re starting to think someone with local knowledge and Mackenzie says that’s this bloke Cesar.’
‘Anyone know him?’ Parsons was looking round the table. Dalton nodded.
‘Dobroslaw’s a major face in Southampton,’ he said. ‘He runs most of the brothels in the city, imports Belarusian toms by the truckload from Minsk, and my guess is he’s pushing to get into Pompey. He’s got a lovely place up Chilworth way. We’ve been trying to take him out for years.’ He glanced across at Christian. ‘How come he knows the Meon Valley so well?’
‘Mackenzie claims he goes shooting on an estate round there,’ Christian said. ‘He’s mates with the guy who owns it. He thinks we ought to check him out.’
‘The guy’s a Scummer.’ Suttle was looking at Parsons. ‘That’d be enough for Mackenzie.’ ‘Scummer’ was Pompey for anyone from Southampton.
‘You’re telling me we take it no further?’
‘I’m saying he’s blowing smoke up our arse.’
‘But what happens if he turns out to be right?’
‘Then we’d have a problem, boss. You’re absolutely right.’
Parsons turned back to Faraday. ‘You’ll action it? This morning?’
‘Sure.’ Faraday nodded at Suttle. Suttle scribbled a note, checking the spelling of Dobroslaw’s name with Christian.
Parsons asked Faraday about the paedophiles culled from the Sex Offenders Register.
‘All the alibis checked out, boss. The kid goes to primary school in Droxford and his mum takes them all swimming at the pool in Fareham. We widened the search parameters to include Fareham but still no joy. This doesn’t feel like a paedophile, not this MO.’
‘I agree.’ Parsons glanced across at the Crime Scene Co-ordinator. She wanted to know about the public payphones used by the kidnapper. Both had been declared crime scenes.
‘We had them boshed but I wouldn’t hold your breath. We’re talking hundreds of fragments of DNA and if chummy’s the same guy who did the kid’s house there’s no way he wouldn’t be wearing gloves.’
‘And the house itself? Anything new?’
‘Nothing. The guy left his shoes outside. He wore gloves the whole time. According to the au pair, the balaclava didn’t even have a hole for his mouth. He was that aware.’
‘No possibility of DNA?’
‘None. No saliva, no dribbles, nothing. The only DNA we took was from the young lad’s toothbrush. I’m sorry but there it is. The preliminary report’s ready. I’ll get it sent over this afternoon.’
Faraday sat back. DNA from Guy’s toothbrush would identify him in the event of a body being found.
‘Not great,’ he said softly. ‘Not great at all.’
The meeting came to an end twenty minutes later. Faraday asked Helen Christian to come back to his office. The incident room at the end of the corridor was filling up. Another day to cast the
Causeway
net still wider.
Faraday shut the door. Christian took a seat.
‘Tell me about the family,’ he said. ‘How are they bearing up?’
‘It’s difficult to call, boss. You’ve been there. You must have felt the atmosphere. It’s not just the kidnap, it’s the maritals as well. I know I shouldn’t say it, but the mother, Esme, is a nightmare.’
Faraday was watching her carefully. ‘Nightmare how?’
‘She’s spoiled to death, for a start. She’s obviously been used to getting her own way, probably her whole life, and nothing’s changed. To tell you the truth I’m really surprised, especially as far as Mackenzie is concerned. I never had him down as a soft touch.’
‘She’s his only child. You make all kinds of mistakes, believe me.’
‘I know, but she doesn’t seem to have grown up. She’s a very attractive lady and she’s got the money to make the best of herself, but the way she treats people is beyond belief. What she wants she gets, and if that doesn’t happen you certainly know about it.’
‘Madison?’
‘She wanted him. She got him.’
‘And now?’
‘The jury’s out, boss. They’re certainly still in touch, but for my money, knowing Madison, that’s a relationship she bossed completely. There’s another thing. Esme’s still a kid at heart and I get the sense she bores easily. That’s something our Perry should have seen coming.’
‘Maybe he did.’
‘I doubt it. She has quite an effect on men. I’ve seen it.’
‘Stu?’
‘The perfect example. He’s a puppy. He wants to be all over her, even now. You can see it. In a way it’s quite sweet.’
‘So what’s the secret? Have you sussed it yet?’
‘She’s very challenging. She looks you in the eye. She’s beautiful too, and rich, and I expect she’s brilliant in bed. Any one of those would be enough for most men. Put it all together, like Stu must have done, and the poor man hasn’t got a chance.’
‘So you think he’d have her back?’
‘Tomorrow. This afternoon. Now. No question. He’s dotty about her.’
Faraday stepped across and opened the window. There was a rumble of rush-hour traffic from the nearby motorway. Families, he thought. How fragile they are. How easily dropped and broken.
‘And Mackenzie?’ He turned round.
‘He’s as rough as a badger’s arse but he’s still a charmer.’ She shook her head. ‘Poor woman.’
‘Who?’
‘Marie. She’s really nice. She knows how to behave, how to treat people. That man doesn’t know how lucky he is.’
‘Maybe he does. And maybe she likes him that way. How is he coping though?’
‘With Guy? The kidnap? This whole thing?’
‘Yes.’
‘Badly at first. It’s twenty years since I had anything to do with him but people don’t change, not that much. Yesterday morning he was all over the place - couldn’t make a decision to save his life, huge mood swings, totally manic.’
‘And now?’
‘He seems to have got a grip. Maybe it’s the fact that Stu’s heard from the kidnapper. Maybe it’s the fact that there’s someone out there, a voice, something tangible, something he can
work
with. Do you know what I mean, boss? Mackenzie, in the end, is like the rest of us. He hates a vacuum. He loathes not knowing where he is. Give him a challenge, just that bloke’s voice on the phone, and he gets stuck in.’
‘You’re telling me he’s freelancing it?’
‘It wouldn’t surprise me in the least.’
‘Keeping us out of the loop?’
‘Could be.’
‘What makes you think that?’
‘I went out with the man. I
know
him.’
Faraday held her gaze for a moment, then his phone began to ring. It was Parsons. She needed a word in his ear. Urgently. Faraday signalled for Christian to leave the office. Then he turned back to the phone.
‘Go ahead, boss.’
‘I’ve had Mr Willard on. SOCA have received a clearing-bank disclosure. Notice from guess who to withdraw guess what.’
‘How much?’
‘A million. In cash. Mr Willard has authorised it on condition the bank marks the notes.’
Faraday nodded. The Serious and Organised Crimes Agency ran a database, known as ELMER, for all financial disclosures nationwide. This latest heads-up would have pinged down to Hantspol within minutes.
‘When did this happen?’
‘This morning, first thing.’
‘And when is Mackenzie picking it up?’
‘Around now. And the answer’s yes, we’ve got the bank plotted up.’
‘You want this to run?’
‘Of course. It’s the old story, Joe. We follow the money.’
Winter met Mackenzie outside the bank in Commercial Road. Early shoppers were watching a gelled young assistant dressing a window in Debenhams while a passing drunk attempted a tune on a battered harmonica.
Mackenzie was carrying a rucksack, pink, with a picture of a kangaroo on it.
‘Yours, mush.’ He gave it to Winter.
Winter followed him into the bank. The summons had come by phone half an hour earlier. Apart from a worried-looking woman waiting for an appointment, the bank was empty. Mackenzie went to the nearest service point and asked for Terri.
‘Tell her it’s Aladdin,’ he said. ‘Quick as you like, love.’
Moments later a tall, attractive-looking woman emerged from a side office. She stepped across to Mackenzie and offered her cheek for a kiss. Winter, still holding the rucksack, was impressed.
‘Mate of mine.’ Mackenzie nodded at Winter. ‘Best I could find.’
‘Your mate?’
‘The rucksack.’
Terri led them through to an office deep in the bowels of the building. Thick pile carpet and a big crescent of desk.
‘Has anyone offered you gentlemen coffee?’
Mackenzie shook his head. A percolator was bubbling softly on the glass-fronted cabinet behind the door. Beside a plate piled with croissants was a choice of marmalades. Mackenzie helped himself while Terri bent to a safe set into the wall behind the desk.
‘How’s that race of yours coming on?’ he wanted to know.
‘It doesn’t happen until October, thank God. Me and my friend are still up for it but we’ve been a bit lax lately. I can’t remember the last time we got out for a decent run.’
‘You go along the seafront?’
‘Yeah.’
‘I’d better look out for you.’ He passed Winter a coffee. ‘What about the sponsorship?’
‘Thirty quid so far and most of that’s from my nan. Are you up for this? Only we might as well start.’
Winter turned round to find himself looking at thick piles of banknotes, all fifties. Terri had sorted out a couple of chairs and gestured for Mackenzie and Winter to sit down. Unless Mackenzie had any objection she’d leave them to it.
‘No problem.’ Mackenzie licked his fingers, then eyed the notes and glanced up at Winter. ‘Half each, mush. If we’re fifty quid long or fifty quid short we have to do the whole fucking thing again.’
‘Short of how much, Baz?’
‘A million.’
‘Really?’ Winter was doing the sums. ‘That’s two thousand notes.’
‘Spot on, mush. A grand each. Race you?’
It took the best part of half an hour to count the notes. Winter had never seen so much money in his life but after the first £100,000 it became a chore.
‘I’ve had more fun playing Monopoly, Baz.’
‘Yeah. She does a nice croissant though, eh?’
‘I’m sure.’ He paused a moment, looking at the money. ‘So why do you need all this?’
‘Doesn’t matter, mush. Just keep counting.’
Terri returned to find twenty neat piles across her desk.
‘Are we done?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Happy?’
‘Spot on. Paulie here’s thinking of becoming an ATM. Got a real talent for it.’
The rucksack was lying on the carpet. Mackenzie picked it up and tossed it across to Winter, telling him to stuff it with the money while he sorted out the paperwork. Terri had a form for him to sign. A million quid cash, thought Winter. At the stroke of a pen.
The rucksack was barely big enough. Terri suggested she find a thick manila envelope for the rest but Mackenzie told Winter to use the pockets on the side. Bulging with banknotes, the rucksack was surprisingly heavy.
They all shook hands. Winter put the bag over his shoulder and headed for the door. Then Mackenzie called him back. He unzipped the nearest pocket, extracted a fifty-pound note and gave it to Terri.
‘Call it sponsorship, Tel.’ He shot her a grin. ‘Now you’ve
got
to do that fucking race.’
Back in the precinct outside the bank Mackenzie was wondering about a coffee. Winter, who had profound doubts about walking around with a million quid in cash, persuaded him to wait until they got back to Craneswater. En route to the Bentley, he had another thought.