Stalkers

‘Not all are like that,’ Blenkinsop replied. ‘Some are totally legit … but there are others who are … well, to be frank, are into all sorts. Drugs smuggling, arms dealing …’

‘Human trafficking,’ Heck added. ‘Or was that just the firm you were using?’ Blenkinsop hung his head again. ‘Tell me about them, Ian. Everything.’

‘I don’t know too much. I first met them while I was over there …’

‘Friends of friends, eh?’

‘Hardly friends.’

‘What a pity you’ve only realised that now.’ Heck laced his fingers tightly; despite his playing the heavy, he finally felt they were getting somewhere. ‘When did they first introduce you to this … other business of theirs?’

‘About four years ago. At the end of a night out. We were all drunk. I asked them to take me to a brothel. They laughed and asked what kind of brothel? We took it from there.’

‘And you trusted them? Just like that?’

‘Sure. They were British.’

‘British.’

‘Well, some of them. The ones I spoke to. But there were others who sounded foreign, I suppose: American, French, Russian …’

‘What else do you remember about them?’

‘Like I say … gave the impression they were ex-military. They’d have to be, working over there in security. Probably ex-special forces. Real tough bastards.’

‘Any names?’

‘Only the boss. Mike Silver. “Mad Mike Silver”, they used to call him. I thought it was a joke, Jesus.’

‘Most likely that name’s bogus,’ Heck said. ‘Description?’

Blenkinsop fingered his damp collar as he tried to cast his mind back. ‘Again, British. War veteran almost certainly — that steely demeanour, you know. Mid-thirties, I’d say. Average height. Well built. Well-spoken too. Possibly a former officer. Dark hair, but prematurely greying. Walked with a cane. Said he’d been wounded in action.’

‘What’s the total strength of this outfit?’

‘I don’t know.’ Blenkinsop was now looking tired as well as drunk. ‘I only usually saw a couple of them at any time, and it was always too dark to memorise faces. Look, what’s the point in this? They’re over in the Gulf. If you’re going to trace these fellas, surely you’ll have to go through foreign agencies?’

‘That can come later. At present, our priority is the cell that’s operating here.’

‘But it can’t be the same people. Why would it be? Over there they’re safe. They can do what they want. Look … at worst, all they’ll have done is sell my name and details to someone else.’

‘At worst?’ Heck’s disbelieving eyes bored into him. ‘At worst, Ian, they could have come home. At worst, they could now be running their very lucrative operation in the UK. . except that over here they can’t just buy the victims off, with peanuts or anything else. And they’ve got another problem … over here they’ve found this rather big fly in their ointment. A fly who works in structured commodity finance at a City investment bank. A fly they’re going to have to squish rather quickly.’

Blenkinsop looked faint with fear, but still shook his head. ‘This is pure supposition. You’ve got no evidence that Silver and his team are behind the Nice Guys.’

Heck thought hard. It was true — there was no firm evidence. But Deke, with his Scorpion Company background, was surely more than just a coincidence. It would also explain how such a firm could operate in London and yet evade the radar of a local gangster like Bobby Ballamara. It would explain the commando-like precision with which the abductions had been executed, the Swiss bank account Blenkinsop had mentioned — that was always a sign you were dealing with someone a little more sophisticated than the average British hoodlum.

Of course, the thought that he was dealing with mercenaries here — ruthless and experienced killers with a vested interest in snuffing out the opposition — was more than a little bit scary. Knowing there was a whole bunch on their tail, the danger level felt as if it had risen exponentially. And he hardly dared think what was happening to Lauren at this moment.

‘You were once their customer,’ Heck said. ‘There must be some way for you to make contact with them.’

‘I tried,’ Blenkinsop sighed. ‘But their website no longer exists. At least, I couldn’t find it again.’

Heck sat upright, struck by a sudden thought. ‘Which computer did you use?’

‘My PC at home.’

‘Have you still got it?’

Blenkinsop nodded.

Heck finished his drink. ‘That’s the way we get them.’

‘I told you, the website’s gone.’

‘It won’t be gone. They’ve just concealed it.’

‘It could be being operated from anywhere.’

‘They sent you a couple of emails as well, didn’t they?’

‘Those addresses are defunct too. Anyway, I deleted everything.’

‘There’ll still be electronic traces left on your hard drive somewhere.’ Heck stood up. ‘We’ve got people who can retrieve them. Come on, we’re going to your house.’

Blenkinsop seemed reluctant to move. ‘Shouldn’t we get some back-up first?’

‘I’m afraid that’s impossible.’

‘For Christ’s sake, why?’

‘Believe it or not, the Nice Guys have someone inside my department. I don’t know who, but as soon as he learns we’re onto them, they’ll disappear for good.’

‘So all I’ve got is you?’ Blenkinsop sounded incredulous. ‘I mean … you alone?’

‘Thank your lucky stars. It’s more than you had two hours ago.’

Blenkinsop shook his head. ‘I’m going nowhere. I’m staying here.’

‘Really?’

‘You want to go to my house, which, if they’re as motivated as you say, they’ll probably be watching …?’ Blenkinsop dropped a front door key onto the table. ‘You’re welcome to it. But I’m not. I’m staying here and having another drink. No one’s going to try anything with me in here.’

There was a taut silence, before Heck swept down across the table, yanking him up by his lapels so hard that glasses flew everywhere. Blenkinsop gasped as Heck forced him back against the wall, constricting his throat.

‘Maybe I’ll try something with you!’ Heck hissed. ‘You self-obsessed wanker! My friend has been kidnapped by these people. God knows what they’re doing to her. And you think you’re going to sit here and get wasted? As far as I’m concerned, Blenkinsop, you are rapist scum, no better than the criminal psychopaths who set this operation up. And you can be damn sure that when these killers go down, you’ll be going down with them — maybe to the same prison, maybe to the same cell!’

‘Please …’ Blenkinsop was pouring with sweat.

‘The only chance you’ve got of avoiding that fate is by cooperating with this investigation as fully as possible!’ Heck snarled. ‘Starting now!’

Chapter 40

Blenkinsop’s home was a detached, double-fronted Edwardian situated amid extensive landscaped gardens. This area of Belsize Park was almost exclusively residential, its quiet roads and avenues hedged and tree-lined, so now that night had fallen there were many dark niches and shadowed corners from where an ambush might be launched.

It was close to nine o’clock in the evening when a black cab came cruising along.

‘Sixteen, Templeton Drive, did you say?’ the cabbie asked the two men, on whom he’d smelled booze the moment they got into his vehicle, though they’d seemed a well-dressed pair, so he hadn’t anticipated any trouble.