“Fuck me. That’s big news. Seriously, they were kidnapped? This wasn’t you pulling one of your stunts?”
“Of course it fucking wasn’t. Do you think I’m that stupid, or desperate? They’re so in demand at the moment, I don’t need to do anything. People love them. And those photos you took in Ibiza are fabulous. I assume you’re going to continue to drip-feed them out over the next few days.”
“Yeah, but this is dynamite. Where are they?”
“At their parents in Trentbridge.”
“Great. I’m leaving Sunderland now. It’ll take me about three hours to get there. I’ll think about the best shots to take while I’m on the way. Text me the details.”
Terry Keagan, or king of the celebrity photographers, as he likes to be known, is one of the best lens men around. He could make Donald Trump look attractive.
Nowadays he isn’t a paparazzi, he only does set-up shots and then feeds them to the media. It pays extremely well, and he gets to meet all the rich and famous, as well as the infamous and rude. Still, as long as he gets the shots.
The following day when the story breaks across social media and TV and the national press, it takes the girls’ career to the next level.
They certainly come across well in TV interviews and prove they are intelligent and have a good sense of humour as well as being extremely attractive. Cameras love them.
Chapter Sixty-Two
With a million pounds in cash and the police no nearer to catching them, the two remaining kidnappers meet up at Mr Gee’s rented apartment.
“Okay, with the other two out of the picture it’s a simple 50/50 split. Half a million each.”
“That might be fine for you, Chris, but I still haven’t got my revenge.”
“We can’t do anything now. The police will be everywhere and the family will be on their guard. At least they’re a million pounds down, that has got to hurt.”
“I want total revenge for what happened to me. What I’ve had to go through.”
“It would be stupid to do anything now. Let’s go off and enjoy the money for a while and then come back in a few months when they think it’s all over. It will be much easier then.”
Chapter Sixty-Three
One of the things the police had asked Albert was where the money had come from to pay the ransom. Albert told them he had £300,000 and borrowed the rest from a friend at short notice.
They didn’t ask him but one of the things they would need to check was who would have nearly three-quarters of a million sitting around in cash.
Most people had never seen that amount of money. And certainly not in cash!
Tracy found PC Rachel Nason sitting in the police station canteen.
“Rachel, I need someone to come with me to see the grandfather.”
“Okay, Tracy, no problem.”
The pair drive to Albert Mitten’s house. They walk to the front door. Rachel rings the bell. The pair look around the front garden and admire it.
“I don’t think I could ever afford this on my salary,” said Rachel.
“Way out of my pay grade too.”
Albert answers the door. “Hello ladies.”
Tracy, holds out her ID, although it should be obvious who they are as Rachel is in uniform.
“Please, won’t you come in?”
Albert leads them through to the lounge at the rear of the house which looks out through the conservatory and over the vast beautifully manicured lawn. “Can I get you some tea or coffee?”
“Yes. It’s been a long day and that would be extremely nice.”
“Please have a seat while I go and arrange it.”
Albert walks back in holding a light-wood-coloured tea serving tray with handles at both ends.
“Here we are a pot of tea and coffee and a few assorted biscuits. Please help yourselves to milk and sugar.”
Tracy and Rachel sit back while sipping their drinks. Rachel picks up one of the Jaffa cakes.
“Now then, tell me, what brings you here? Is there an update?”
“There are still a lot of loose ends to tie up. But we are making progress. One thing we need to know Mr Mitten is who supplied the money for the ransom? We know you were able to raise £300,000 but that leaves a large chunk to find. So we need to know who it was.”
“I’m not sure it’s relevant or that the person concerned would like you to have that information.”
“Mr Mitten. We’re not with the Inland Revenue. We’re not interested at this stage in where the money came from. We just need to know who. Remember, the two main people behind the kidnapping are still out there. We are trying to find them. Every piece of information helps.”
“I suppose it can’t do any harm in you knowing. It came from a man I’ve known for over twenty years. Harry Richardson.”
“Was the money a loan?”
“No. He is a friend but this was done as a business deal. I had to agree to sell him the site on Tennis Court Road. He’s been pestering me to sell it for years. It’s worth far more than the 700,000 but I was in a fix. He helped me out. I would have gladly sold everything I have to get my granddaughters back safely.”
“Thank you, Mr Mitten. That’s all we need to know. You’ve been extremely helpful.”
“I’m not sure how but you’re welcome.”
Tracy and Rachel get up to leave.
“Thank you for the tea Mr Mitten, and the biscuits,” said Rachel.
“My pleasure, my dear. Why don’t you take a couple of the biscuits with you?”
“Not good for my diet but thank you all the same.”
As Rachel drives out of the gates, Tracy is thinking she has come across the name Harry Richardson before. She recalled it had been one of the names on the guest list of the Mittens’ fiftieth
