Calter untangled herself.
‘Put your stiffy away, lover boy, and call for the cavalry. It’s him.’
*
Savage and Garrett did the Barbican circuit once and went straight out again on a run that took in the railway station. Afterwards they had a short break and grabbed a coffee in the canteen before doing the first route all over.
A dust rain began to fall, the tiny drops swirling in the glare around the street lamps and by the time they reached the Barbican the long cobbled street gleamed in the light. A throng of people walked and stumbled along the road and the air reeked of fish and chips and fast-food. An underlying tension threaded amongst the crowd and hinted at sex and violence.
A pink stretch limo cruised by, filled with a gaggle of girls on a hen night, bare arms waving out of the windows, one sticking her bottom out and flashing her knickers at a group of appreciative lads.
‘Gerrum orf you fat slag!’
‘Show us your tits!’
‘Fancy a good knobbing, do you?’
The car pulled away and Savage wondered at the height of Plymouth’s Saturday night sophistication.
‘Is that the best the youth of this town can manage?’ she asked Garrett.
‘You will find the same everywhere, take away the street names and this might be any town in the country. Broken Britain they call it, don’t they? Although I suspect the country has always been broken. Rose-tinted spectacles and all that.’
‘I certainly don’t remember shoving my bum out of a car window, but maybe I got too drunk to notice.’
‘That’s the point. Those girls get too drunk to notice. They lose their friends, someone gives them a spiked drink and the next minute they are tied to a bed being gang raped.’
They wandered through the Barbican area and up Madeira Road, across the Hoe and down towards the theatre. They were turning off Amada Way on to Notte Street when Savage got the call on her mobile.
‘Are you near the theatre yet?’
‘Five minutes.’
‘We’ve got an IC1 male and female walking along Princess Street, possibly heading for the Theatre Royal car park. Male dark hair, brown jacket, brown trousers. Female blonde, white coat, bare legs. Observe, do not apprehend as of yet.’
Savage told Garrett and they ran along Notte Street and down Lockyer to join Princess Street, slowing to a walk when they saw the couple coming towards them. The woman wandered all over the pavement and the man struggled to keep her upright. Savage took Garrett’s hand and faced him.
‘Call you next week sometime?’
‘Er, yes, that would be great.’
‘I’ve really enjoyed this evening, honestly. I can’t remember a time when I have had as much fun.’ Savage couldn’t help smiling which she thought must have added some realism to the act.
The dialogue was wasted on the couple who seemed oblivious to anything as they weaved back and forth. They reached the car park and went down the side to the stairwell. Savage spotted Calter and Enders coming along Princess Street and she made a sign to suggest that they should go to the front of the car park while she and Garrett followed the couple. The car park was one of the pay on foot types where you had to put a ticket into the machine and pay the amount due before you went to your car. It seemed as if the man had lost his ticket because the couple were hanging around the machine for ages. Eventually he produced a piece of scrumpled cardboard and with some difficulty got the machine to accept it.
Savage and Garrett trailed the couple as they went up two flights of stairs, stumbled out onto the third level and made their way over to a green Audi, where the man opened the rear door for the woman. She clambered in and sat back in the seat, leaving the door open. The man didn’t go to the driver’s side, rather he opened the front passenger door, took something from the glove compartment, and returned to the woman. He blocked Savage’s view for a moment and the door slammed shut. The woman leant forward now, hands on the front headrest. The man got in and the car started, reversed out of the space and moved forward.
‘Bloody hell!’ Garrett had spotted something. ‘Handcuffs!’
The car moved out of the shadows and a glint of silver shone out from within. Savage saw Garrett was right. The woman had been handcuffed to the front headrest.
‘Shit!’ Savage raced forward to block the ramp to the next level. The driver floored the accelerator, the tyres screeching as the rear end spun out.
‘Stop police!’ Savage shouted.
The car was coming right at her, the man’s black eyes wide, white knuckles grasping the steering wheel.
‘Charlotte!’ Garrett shouted.
She didn’t need the warning and she jumped clear as the car careened across the ramp and glanced the side barrier. It slid sideways, straightened up and then lurched into a pillar, stopping dead. A loud bang echoed through the whole level as the front airbags exploded and a huge piece of concrete broke away from the pillar, bounced on the bonnet and smashed into the windscreen.
An empty car parked nearby started up with the rhythmic beep, beep, beep of an alarm and Savage heard the sound of running footsteps from the floor below. A moment later and Calter and Enders came up the ramp, breathless.
‘We got him, ma’am. Bloody hell!’
The four of them gathered round the car. The man slumped against the side window, face half-buried in the airbag and a trickle of blood running from his nose. The woman had just been sick on the back seat.
Savage opened the rear door. She clicked the catch on the headrest and pulled it upward and away, freeing the woman. The woman rubbed her hands and Savage could see red marks where the cuffs had cut into the skin when the car crashed. She scowled as Savage fumbled with the seatbelt.
‘Don’t worry, we will have you out of there in a moment, you’re OK now.’
‘Of course I am fucking OK!’
‘Did he touch you?’
The woman laughed.
‘Chance would be a fine thing.’
‘Sorry?’
‘You’ve made a big mistake.’ The woman paused and smiled. ‘You know who Sleeping Beauty up front is?’
‘No.’
‘He’s my husband.’
Chapter 19
Harry risked a journey to the big Sainsbury’s supermarket at Marsh Mills in Plymouth because he needed a load of fruit and a set of bra and panties for Emma. Plain white, like all the girls from his childhood had worn. He suspected his mother had insisted on it. She wouldn’t have wanted all the frilly stuff because it would have made his father get a little bit too excited.
Harry found a space to park and sat in the car remembering the first time he had seen the white cotton offset against smooth, young skin. He had found a hole in the back of a built-in cupboard in an adjoining room. Through it he spied Carmel sitting on the bed in her bra and panties. Removing the bra and exposing her breasts and then standing up and peeling her knickers down to reveal a dark triangle of mystery, black alongside the pure white, Harry’s heart thumping even though he was still so young.
After that Harry sneaked into the spare room whenever he could and secreted himself in the cupboard with the little pinhole. He would watch Carmel for hours and sometimes she did little, just reading or watching the tiny black and white TV his parents had provided. At other times she would be getting ready to go out and Harry loved
