House of the Dead, page 15
“I see. Would you do it better over a pint? We can brainstorm, if you like.”
Tony narrowed his eyes, wondering why the counter terrorism officer would want to go for a drink with him. He voiced his thoughts with a blunt, “Why?”
Radcliffe frowned. “Why what?”
“Why do you want to go for a pint?”
“Why not? We aren’t getting anywhere sitting here. A change of scenery will do us the world of good. Give us a fresh perspective.”
Tony checked his watch. It was almost knocking off time. Visiting Thomas Rayburn had eaten up most of the afternoon.
And a pint might blow away the mental cobwebs.
“All right,” he said. “But just one. My girlfriend goes away tomorrow, and I’ve booked us a table at Bellini’s.”
“Very nice.” The counter terrorism officer got out of his chair and stretched. “I can only have one myself. I’m on security duty outside DI Summers’ house at 1:00 a.m.”
“Battle roped you in, did he?”
“I volunteered. We’ve got to look after our own.”
“True,” Tony said. “Right, let’s go. Where do you have in mind?”
“There’s a pub just around the corner. The Anchor. Probably as good as anywhere else.”
“I’ll see you there,” Tony said, casting a glance at Battle’s office. The DCI was sitting at his desk, looking at paperwork. “I just need to have a quick word with the boss.”
“I’ll get the beers in,” Radcliffe said, pushing through the door to the stairwell.
Tony knocked on Battle’s door. The DCI looked up from the papers on his desk and said, “Have you got something for me, doctor?”
“That’s what I’m coming to tell you. I’ll have a profile on your desk first thing in the morning. It’s been a hectic day. I need to get in the right headspace.”
Battle sighed. “All right. But I want some insights into this so-called GameMaster. Something that’ll help us catch him. God knows, we need it.”
“No problem, boss. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Tony offered the DCI a brief smile that he hoped was reassuring and returned to his desk, where he picked up his notebook and pen before leaving.
He climbed into his Mini and drove the short distance to the Anchor, where he found Radcliffe waiting for him at a corner table inside the gloomy pub.
“So, what have you got so far?” Radcliffe said as Tony took a seat and set his notebook down.
“Not much, to be honest. The theory I want to explore more—and it’s nothing more than a theory at the moment—is that he suffered some sort of tragedy which he blames the police for. More specifically, he blames Greg Hughes and Dani.”
“You don’t have more than that?”
Tony shook his head and took a sip of the beer Radcliffe had bought for him. “Not really.”
“You must have something else. Something useful.”
“Are we here to brainstorm? Or for you to tell me I’m not doing my job properly?”
“All right, all right.” Radcliffe held up his hands in mock surrender. “I just hoped we’d be closer to catching this guy.”
“Don’t we all?”
“You really haven’t got anything more in that notebook of yours?”
“Well, I know he’s got a lot of money and resources.”
“That’s a given,” Radcliffe said. “I thought you might have something less obvious.”
“Like what?”
“Like an insight into who he is.”
“I told you I didn’t have much. I thought that was why we’re here. To brainstorm.”
“Yeah,” Radcliffe said, sipping his pint. He looked disappointed.
“You all right?” Tony asked.
“I’m fine. I just…”
“Hoped we’d be closer to catching him,” Tony finished for him. “You said that already.”
“Well, it’s true.”
Tony scrutinised the man sitting opposite him. Radcliffe’s disappointment seemed to go deeper than mere frustration at the lack of progress on the case. Tony could sense the man’s anxiety rising with each passing second.
“Do you have any thoughts?” he asked, more to gauge Radcliffe’s reaction than anything else. There was more going on here than two colleagues brainstorming over a pint.
“He knows people’s secrets,” Radcliffe said in a low voice.
“What makes you say that?”
“Well, I mean, he knew about all those people that were saved by Di Summers and her partner all those years ago.”
“Those events were reported in the media. They weren’t secrets.”
“No, I suppose they weren’t.” His eyes went to his pint, concentrating on the mahogany-coloured liquid in the glass.
“Ian, is there something you want to tell me?” Tony asked. He leaned forward over the table slightly, showing the counter terrorism officer that he was attentive and ready to listen. It was a tactic he’d used many times with patients who were unwilling to talk.
“I just mean that someone like him—the GameMaster—can probably hack into anything. Phones. Computers. If he wanted to find something out about someone, he could probably do it.”
Tony nodded slowly. “Find out what, exactly?”
Radcliffe shrugged. His eyes never left the pint. It was as if he could see something in the dark liquid that no one else could. A memory, perhaps. “I don’t know.”
“Secrets?”
Radcliffe gazed into the beer for a few seconds longer, then seemed to snap out of it. He moved his attention to Tony and forced a grin. “Like I said, I don’t know. Just brainstorming. That’s why we’re here, right?”
“It is,” Tony said. Whatever Radcliffe had been on the verge of telling him would have to wait for another time. The moment was gone.
“So,” Radcliffe said, “tell me any theory you might have, no matter how ridiculous it might be. You must have something. Let’s hear it.”
Tony did indeed have a few theories and ideas. He knew the GameMaster had some connection to the Sunnyside and Sutton Forest campsites. He’d probably visited them more than a decade ago, when Thomas Rayburn was known to the campers as Tommy.
But he said none of that. Instead, he downed his pint and made a point of looking at his watch. “I’d best get going, Ian. We’ll catch up tomorrow in the office.”
Radcliffe’s face fell. “But I thought we were going to throw some ideas around. We might have a breakthrough. We might work out who he is.”
“Look, I’ve got to give Battle a profile tomorrow morning. You can have a read of that and if you can think of anything to add to it, let me know.”
Radcliffe’s head dropped to his chest and shook slowly. “Tomorrow morning will be too late.”
“What?” Tony wasn’t sure if he’d heard the man correctly. Radcliffe was mumbling.
The counter terrorism officer let out a long sigh. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”
“Right. I’ve got to go, but if you want to talk, give me a call. Anytime. Okay?”
“Yeah. Okay.”
If Tony had the slightest hope that Radcliffe would open up about what was troubling him, he’d stay and talk to the man, but he knew the counter terrorism officer wasn’t going to say anything more than he already had, and that was hardly anything at all.
Tony also had a gut feeling that he shouldn’t tell Radcliffe anything about his thoughts on the GameMaster. Radcliffe seemed…compromised…in some way. He certainly knew more than he was letting on.
“See you tomorrow,” he said.
Radcliffe nodded but didn’t lift his head. “Yeah.”
Tony left the pub and got into his car. He was going to have to mention this to Battle in the morning when he delivered the profile. There was something going on with Radcliffe. Maybe the DCI could get to the bottom of it.
He tried to put it out of his head as he drove across town to his flat, but the conversation stuck with him for the entire journey. What had Radcliffe meant when he mentioned secrets? And there was something else about the conversation that niggled at Tony’s mind. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
When he got home, Alina came out of the bedroom in a figure-hugging black dress.
“Wow,” Tony said. “You look stunning.”
She grinned and twirled around. “Thank you, kind sir.”
“Looks like I’m going to have to go to some effort now,” he joked.
She narrowed her eyes and thumped him playfully on the shoulder. “How was your day?”
“Not great,” he said. “I suppose it was on the news.”
“Yes,” she said, her expression becoming serious. “It’s terrible what happened to that poor woman.”
He nodded. “I’m going to have a shower and get changed. I’m going to try and forget about work, at least for tonight.”
He went into the bathroom and turned the shower on. Stepping into the hot spray, he tried clear his mind and become present in the moment. He was going to have a lovely meal with his beautiful girlfriend at one of the top restaurants in the city. Work could wait until tomorrow.
He’d get into the office early and put together a profile for Battle, no matter how scant it might be.
It was only hours later—in the dead of night, when he was lying awake in bed with Alina sleeping soundly next to him—that Tony realised what had niggled him about the conversation with Radcliffe.
“GameMaster,” he said, sitting up in bed. “Radcliffe said GameMaster.”
Battle had insisted that the name go no further when they’d heard it in on the video message from the GameMaster. Only a handful of people knew the name, and Radcliffe was not one of them.
“Radcliffe has been contacted by the GameMaster,” he mumbled into the darkness. “That’s how he knows the name. He’s been in contact with him and he never mentioned it.”
Other pieces of his conversation with Radcliffe replayed in his memory.
Tomorrow morning will be too late.
I’m on security duty outside DI Summers’ house at 1:00 a.m.
Tony looked at the clock on the bedside table. The glowing red numerals said, 1:22.
Radcliffe was outside Dani’s house right now.
He picked up his phone and called her. The call rang and rang and then went to voicemail.
“Dani, call me back,” he said after the beep. “Radcliffe has been lying to us and he’s outside your house.”
Alina woke up. “Tony? What’s the matter?”
“There’s a problem.” He was already dialling Tom Ryan’s number.
Ryan picked up after two rings. “Doc?”
“Listen,” Tony said. “There’s something off with Radcliffe. I think he’s been contacted by the GameMaster. And he’s outside Dani’s house right now.”
“Have you warned her?”
“I’ve tried calling her but there’s no answer.”
“I’m on my way.” Ryan hung up.
“Tony, what’s happening?” Alina put a hand on his shoulder.
“Dani’s in trouble. I’ve got to get over there.” He slid out of bed and searched for his clothes.
“She knew the GameMaster would find a way through the security detail, and she was right. He’s had a man on the inside all this time.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
Tom Ryan gritted his teeth as he sped towards Dani’s house. It was almost half past one. Anything could have happened in the last thirty minutes.
His phone rang. He pressed the button on the steering wheel to answer it.
The voice that filled the car was Battle’s. “Dr Sheridan just rang me and filled me in. How far are you from her house?”
“Fifteen minutes, sir.”
“I’ll get some uniforms over there.” There was a pause and then the DCI added, “Bring Radcliffe in for questioning. Don’t do anything stupid. I want him in custody, not dead. Understood?”
Since the moment he’d left his flat, Ryan had considered a thousand things he’d like to do to Radcliffe, but he knew the DCI was right. They needed the man alive. He had information.
“Is that understood, Ryan?” Battle repeated.
“Yes, sir.”
“Right. I’m on my way over there, but contact me the second you have anything to report.” The DCI hung up.
Ryan put his foot down. He was already taking a risk, speeding along the winding, narrow roads in the dark, but it was a risk he was willing to take. If anything happened to Dani, he’d never forgive himself.
He should have realised there was a mole in the department. The guy they were after didn’t leave anything to chance. He’d want someone on the inside, reporting back to him on the state of the investigation. He’d use that information to execute his plans.
How could Ryan have missed it? Granted, he’d only been back on the Force a couple of days, and had barely interacted with Radcliffe at all, but he should have guessed that the man was compromised.
He knew that was irrational. There was no way he could have known about Radcliffe. But he needed to distract himself from the thoughts of what he might find when he got to Dani’s cottage, and mentally berating himself was all he had.
He tried ringing Dani’s number, but there was no answer. He knew there was no way she’d turn her phone off at night. It would be next to her on the bedside table. He couldn’t allow himself to entertain his dark thoughts regarding the reasons why that phone wasn’t being answered.
Thirteen minutes later, he sped through the village of Tollby and saw blue lights flashing in the distance. The uniforms were already here.
As he got closer, he saw two police cars parked on the road outside Dani’s cottage. He parked next to them and got out of the car. His gun was in a shoulder holster, snug against his body and hidden beneath his jacket.
The cottage door was open and a uniformed constable was standing outside it. When he saw Ryan, he raised his hand. “You can’t come in here, sir.”
“Yes, I can,” Ryan said, flashing his Murder Force ID at the man. “What’s the situation?” He stepped inside the house. The first thing he saw was Dani’s dogs. They were lying on the rug, on their sides, tongues lolling out of their mouths.
Two male officers and a female officer were in the house, flashing torches over the walls and floor as they inspected the place.
Ryan turned the lights on. “Is she here? Is DI Summers here?”
The female officer shook her head at him. “We’ve only just got here, but it looks like she’s gone. There are signs of a struggle in the bedroom. We think the dogs have been drugged. The vet’s on the way.”
Ryan pushed past them to the bedroom. The bedside table was on its side, a lamp, clock, and Dani’s phone on the floor.
“Did you see any vehicles on your way here? Vehicles driving away from the house?”
She thought for a moment. “We only saw one other car. These roads are quiet at this time of night.”
“Where?”
“We were coming from Whitby direction. It was going the opposite way.”
“Towards Whitby?”
She nodded.
Ryan ran out of the house and got in his car. As he started the engine, he rang Battle.
“What is it?” the DCI said, trepidation weakening his voice.
“She’s been taken.” Ryan put the car into gear and accelerated away from the cottage. “I think Radcliffe is heading towards Whitby.”
“Whitby? Why would he go there?”
“The beach,” Ryan said grimly. “Greg Hughes’ body was found on a beach, wasn’t it?”
There was silence on the other end of the line for a few seconds, then Battle said, “Get her back, Ryan. By any means possible.”
“Got it.” He took the turning for Whitby and pressed the accelerator as far as he dared on these roads.
Battle had hung up.
Ryan gripped the steering wheel tightly and sped along the road that cut through the dark, lonely moors.
It took him much too long to get to Whitby and, as he drove into the coastal town, he feared the worst for Dani. He had no idea how far ahead of him Radcliffe had been. Despite the speed with which Ryan had driven over the moors, Radcliffe could have had time to do anything by now.
He drove along Pier Road, which skirted the harbour, and brought the Aston Martin to a halt at the top of a wide, cement ramp that led down to the beach.
As he exited the car, his hand slid automatically beneath his jacket and slid the Glock out of the shoulder holster.
He sprinted down the ramp and stopped when he hit the sand, scanning the beach for movement.
The sand shone silver and wet in the moonlight. The tide was receding, the waves whispering over pebbles.
Ryan saw a dark shape in the distance, on the edge of the surf. He wasn’t sure if it was a rock, or a person on their knees. Pointing the muzzle of the gun down, he approached warily.
As his night vision improved and he got closer, he realised it was a person. Kneeling at the edge of the beach, looking out over the sea.
When he was a few feet away, he saw that it was Ian Radcliffe. The counter terrorism officer was dressed in a black jacket, combat trousers, and boots. He didn’t seem to notice Ryan. His attention was focussed on the dark horizon.
“Radcliffe,” Ryan said, raising the gun.
Radcliffe turned to face him. When he saw the gun, he raised his hands.
“Where is she?” Ryan said.
“Gone.” Ryan could see tears staining the man’s cheeks. A sense of despair was evident in his face and the hunched posture of his body.
“Gone where?”
Radcliffe shrugged.
Ryan moved forward, pressing the muzzle of the Glock against Radcliffe’s forehead. “Where the fuck is she?”
The counter terrorism officer flinched and pointed out to sea. “Out there. He took her by boat. That’s all I know.”
Ryan looked out over the waves. There was no sign of a boat out there. There was nothing but blackness.
“He made me do it,” Radcliffe said weakly.
“I don’t give a fuck.”
“Look. This explains everything.” Radcliffe reached into his jacket pocket.
Ryan tensed. If a weapon came out of that pocket, he’d make sure Radcliffe regretted the day he was born.
Tony narrowed his eyes, wondering why the counter terrorism officer would want to go for a drink with him. He voiced his thoughts with a blunt, “Why?”
Radcliffe frowned. “Why what?”
“Why do you want to go for a pint?”
“Why not? We aren’t getting anywhere sitting here. A change of scenery will do us the world of good. Give us a fresh perspective.”
Tony checked his watch. It was almost knocking off time. Visiting Thomas Rayburn had eaten up most of the afternoon.
And a pint might blow away the mental cobwebs.
“All right,” he said. “But just one. My girlfriend goes away tomorrow, and I’ve booked us a table at Bellini’s.”
“Very nice.” The counter terrorism officer got out of his chair and stretched. “I can only have one myself. I’m on security duty outside DI Summers’ house at 1:00 a.m.”
“Battle roped you in, did he?”
“I volunteered. We’ve got to look after our own.”
“True,” Tony said. “Right, let’s go. Where do you have in mind?”
“There’s a pub just around the corner. The Anchor. Probably as good as anywhere else.”
“I’ll see you there,” Tony said, casting a glance at Battle’s office. The DCI was sitting at his desk, looking at paperwork. “I just need to have a quick word with the boss.”
“I’ll get the beers in,” Radcliffe said, pushing through the door to the stairwell.
Tony knocked on Battle’s door. The DCI looked up from the papers on his desk and said, “Have you got something for me, doctor?”
“That’s what I’m coming to tell you. I’ll have a profile on your desk first thing in the morning. It’s been a hectic day. I need to get in the right headspace.”
Battle sighed. “All right. But I want some insights into this so-called GameMaster. Something that’ll help us catch him. God knows, we need it.”
“No problem, boss. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Tony offered the DCI a brief smile that he hoped was reassuring and returned to his desk, where he picked up his notebook and pen before leaving.
He climbed into his Mini and drove the short distance to the Anchor, where he found Radcliffe waiting for him at a corner table inside the gloomy pub.
“So, what have you got so far?” Radcliffe said as Tony took a seat and set his notebook down.
“Not much, to be honest. The theory I want to explore more—and it’s nothing more than a theory at the moment—is that he suffered some sort of tragedy which he blames the police for. More specifically, he blames Greg Hughes and Dani.”
“You don’t have more than that?”
Tony shook his head and took a sip of the beer Radcliffe had bought for him. “Not really.”
“You must have something else. Something useful.”
“Are we here to brainstorm? Or for you to tell me I’m not doing my job properly?”
“All right, all right.” Radcliffe held up his hands in mock surrender. “I just hoped we’d be closer to catching this guy.”
“Don’t we all?”
“You really haven’t got anything more in that notebook of yours?”
“Well, I know he’s got a lot of money and resources.”
“That’s a given,” Radcliffe said. “I thought you might have something less obvious.”
“Like what?”
“Like an insight into who he is.”
“I told you I didn’t have much. I thought that was why we’re here. To brainstorm.”
“Yeah,” Radcliffe said, sipping his pint. He looked disappointed.
“You all right?” Tony asked.
“I’m fine. I just…”
“Hoped we’d be closer to catching him,” Tony finished for him. “You said that already.”
“Well, it’s true.”
Tony scrutinised the man sitting opposite him. Radcliffe’s disappointment seemed to go deeper than mere frustration at the lack of progress on the case. Tony could sense the man’s anxiety rising with each passing second.
“Do you have any thoughts?” he asked, more to gauge Radcliffe’s reaction than anything else. There was more going on here than two colleagues brainstorming over a pint.
“He knows people’s secrets,” Radcliffe said in a low voice.
“What makes you say that?”
“Well, I mean, he knew about all those people that were saved by Di Summers and her partner all those years ago.”
“Those events were reported in the media. They weren’t secrets.”
“No, I suppose they weren’t.” His eyes went to his pint, concentrating on the mahogany-coloured liquid in the glass.
“Ian, is there something you want to tell me?” Tony asked. He leaned forward over the table slightly, showing the counter terrorism officer that he was attentive and ready to listen. It was a tactic he’d used many times with patients who were unwilling to talk.
“I just mean that someone like him—the GameMaster—can probably hack into anything. Phones. Computers. If he wanted to find something out about someone, he could probably do it.”
Tony nodded slowly. “Find out what, exactly?”
Radcliffe shrugged. His eyes never left the pint. It was as if he could see something in the dark liquid that no one else could. A memory, perhaps. “I don’t know.”
“Secrets?”
Radcliffe gazed into the beer for a few seconds longer, then seemed to snap out of it. He moved his attention to Tony and forced a grin. “Like I said, I don’t know. Just brainstorming. That’s why we’re here, right?”
“It is,” Tony said. Whatever Radcliffe had been on the verge of telling him would have to wait for another time. The moment was gone.
“So,” Radcliffe said, “tell me any theory you might have, no matter how ridiculous it might be. You must have something. Let’s hear it.”
Tony did indeed have a few theories and ideas. He knew the GameMaster had some connection to the Sunnyside and Sutton Forest campsites. He’d probably visited them more than a decade ago, when Thomas Rayburn was known to the campers as Tommy.
But he said none of that. Instead, he downed his pint and made a point of looking at his watch. “I’d best get going, Ian. We’ll catch up tomorrow in the office.”
Radcliffe’s face fell. “But I thought we were going to throw some ideas around. We might have a breakthrough. We might work out who he is.”
“Look, I’ve got to give Battle a profile tomorrow morning. You can have a read of that and if you can think of anything to add to it, let me know.”
Radcliffe’s head dropped to his chest and shook slowly. “Tomorrow morning will be too late.”
“What?” Tony wasn’t sure if he’d heard the man correctly. Radcliffe was mumbling.
The counter terrorism officer let out a long sigh. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”
“Right. I’ve got to go, but if you want to talk, give me a call. Anytime. Okay?”
“Yeah. Okay.”
If Tony had the slightest hope that Radcliffe would open up about what was troubling him, he’d stay and talk to the man, but he knew the counter terrorism officer wasn’t going to say anything more than he already had, and that was hardly anything at all.
Tony also had a gut feeling that he shouldn’t tell Radcliffe anything about his thoughts on the GameMaster. Radcliffe seemed…compromised…in some way. He certainly knew more than he was letting on.
“See you tomorrow,” he said.
Radcliffe nodded but didn’t lift his head. “Yeah.”
Tony left the pub and got into his car. He was going to have to mention this to Battle in the morning when he delivered the profile. There was something going on with Radcliffe. Maybe the DCI could get to the bottom of it.
He tried to put it out of his head as he drove across town to his flat, but the conversation stuck with him for the entire journey. What had Radcliffe meant when he mentioned secrets? And there was something else about the conversation that niggled at Tony’s mind. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
When he got home, Alina came out of the bedroom in a figure-hugging black dress.
“Wow,” Tony said. “You look stunning.”
She grinned and twirled around. “Thank you, kind sir.”
“Looks like I’m going to have to go to some effort now,” he joked.
She narrowed her eyes and thumped him playfully on the shoulder. “How was your day?”
“Not great,” he said. “I suppose it was on the news.”
“Yes,” she said, her expression becoming serious. “It’s terrible what happened to that poor woman.”
He nodded. “I’m going to have a shower and get changed. I’m going to try and forget about work, at least for tonight.”
He went into the bathroom and turned the shower on. Stepping into the hot spray, he tried clear his mind and become present in the moment. He was going to have a lovely meal with his beautiful girlfriend at one of the top restaurants in the city. Work could wait until tomorrow.
He’d get into the office early and put together a profile for Battle, no matter how scant it might be.
It was only hours later—in the dead of night, when he was lying awake in bed with Alina sleeping soundly next to him—that Tony realised what had niggled him about the conversation with Radcliffe.
“GameMaster,” he said, sitting up in bed. “Radcliffe said GameMaster.”
Battle had insisted that the name go no further when they’d heard it in on the video message from the GameMaster. Only a handful of people knew the name, and Radcliffe was not one of them.
“Radcliffe has been contacted by the GameMaster,” he mumbled into the darkness. “That’s how he knows the name. He’s been in contact with him and he never mentioned it.”
Other pieces of his conversation with Radcliffe replayed in his memory.
Tomorrow morning will be too late.
I’m on security duty outside DI Summers’ house at 1:00 a.m.
Tony looked at the clock on the bedside table. The glowing red numerals said, 1:22.
Radcliffe was outside Dani’s house right now.
He picked up his phone and called her. The call rang and rang and then went to voicemail.
“Dani, call me back,” he said after the beep. “Radcliffe has been lying to us and he’s outside your house.”
Alina woke up. “Tony? What’s the matter?”
“There’s a problem.” He was already dialling Tom Ryan’s number.
Ryan picked up after two rings. “Doc?”
“Listen,” Tony said. “There’s something off with Radcliffe. I think he’s been contacted by the GameMaster. And he’s outside Dani’s house right now.”
“Have you warned her?”
“I’ve tried calling her but there’s no answer.”
“I’m on my way.” Ryan hung up.
“Tony, what’s happening?” Alina put a hand on his shoulder.
“Dani’s in trouble. I’ve got to get over there.” He slid out of bed and searched for his clothes.
“She knew the GameMaster would find a way through the security detail, and she was right. He’s had a man on the inside all this time.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
Tom Ryan gritted his teeth as he sped towards Dani’s house. It was almost half past one. Anything could have happened in the last thirty minutes.
His phone rang. He pressed the button on the steering wheel to answer it.
The voice that filled the car was Battle’s. “Dr Sheridan just rang me and filled me in. How far are you from her house?”
“Fifteen minutes, sir.”
“I’ll get some uniforms over there.” There was a pause and then the DCI added, “Bring Radcliffe in for questioning. Don’t do anything stupid. I want him in custody, not dead. Understood?”
Since the moment he’d left his flat, Ryan had considered a thousand things he’d like to do to Radcliffe, but he knew the DCI was right. They needed the man alive. He had information.
“Is that understood, Ryan?” Battle repeated.
“Yes, sir.”
“Right. I’m on my way over there, but contact me the second you have anything to report.” The DCI hung up.
Ryan put his foot down. He was already taking a risk, speeding along the winding, narrow roads in the dark, but it was a risk he was willing to take. If anything happened to Dani, he’d never forgive himself.
He should have realised there was a mole in the department. The guy they were after didn’t leave anything to chance. He’d want someone on the inside, reporting back to him on the state of the investigation. He’d use that information to execute his plans.
How could Ryan have missed it? Granted, he’d only been back on the Force a couple of days, and had barely interacted with Radcliffe at all, but he should have guessed that the man was compromised.
He knew that was irrational. There was no way he could have known about Radcliffe. But he needed to distract himself from the thoughts of what he might find when he got to Dani’s cottage, and mentally berating himself was all he had.
He tried ringing Dani’s number, but there was no answer. He knew there was no way she’d turn her phone off at night. It would be next to her on the bedside table. He couldn’t allow himself to entertain his dark thoughts regarding the reasons why that phone wasn’t being answered.
Thirteen minutes later, he sped through the village of Tollby and saw blue lights flashing in the distance. The uniforms were already here.
As he got closer, he saw two police cars parked on the road outside Dani’s cottage. He parked next to them and got out of the car. His gun was in a shoulder holster, snug against his body and hidden beneath his jacket.
The cottage door was open and a uniformed constable was standing outside it. When he saw Ryan, he raised his hand. “You can’t come in here, sir.”
“Yes, I can,” Ryan said, flashing his Murder Force ID at the man. “What’s the situation?” He stepped inside the house. The first thing he saw was Dani’s dogs. They were lying on the rug, on their sides, tongues lolling out of their mouths.
Two male officers and a female officer were in the house, flashing torches over the walls and floor as they inspected the place.
Ryan turned the lights on. “Is she here? Is DI Summers here?”
The female officer shook her head at him. “We’ve only just got here, but it looks like she’s gone. There are signs of a struggle in the bedroom. We think the dogs have been drugged. The vet’s on the way.”
Ryan pushed past them to the bedroom. The bedside table was on its side, a lamp, clock, and Dani’s phone on the floor.
“Did you see any vehicles on your way here? Vehicles driving away from the house?”
She thought for a moment. “We only saw one other car. These roads are quiet at this time of night.”
“Where?”
“We were coming from Whitby direction. It was going the opposite way.”
“Towards Whitby?”
She nodded.
Ryan ran out of the house and got in his car. As he started the engine, he rang Battle.
“What is it?” the DCI said, trepidation weakening his voice.
“She’s been taken.” Ryan put the car into gear and accelerated away from the cottage. “I think Radcliffe is heading towards Whitby.”
“Whitby? Why would he go there?”
“The beach,” Ryan said grimly. “Greg Hughes’ body was found on a beach, wasn’t it?”
There was silence on the other end of the line for a few seconds, then Battle said, “Get her back, Ryan. By any means possible.”
“Got it.” He took the turning for Whitby and pressed the accelerator as far as he dared on these roads.
Battle had hung up.
Ryan gripped the steering wheel tightly and sped along the road that cut through the dark, lonely moors.
It took him much too long to get to Whitby and, as he drove into the coastal town, he feared the worst for Dani. He had no idea how far ahead of him Radcliffe had been. Despite the speed with which Ryan had driven over the moors, Radcliffe could have had time to do anything by now.
He drove along Pier Road, which skirted the harbour, and brought the Aston Martin to a halt at the top of a wide, cement ramp that led down to the beach.
As he exited the car, his hand slid automatically beneath his jacket and slid the Glock out of the shoulder holster.
He sprinted down the ramp and stopped when he hit the sand, scanning the beach for movement.
The sand shone silver and wet in the moonlight. The tide was receding, the waves whispering over pebbles.
Ryan saw a dark shape in the distance, on the edge of the surf. He wasn’t sure if it was a rock, or a person on their knees. Pointing the muzzle of the gun down, he approached warily.
As his night vision improved and he got closer, he realised it was a person. Kneeling at the edge of the beach, looking out over the sea.
When he was a few feet away, he saw that it was Ian Radcliffe. The counter terrorism officer was dressed in a black jacket, combat trousers, and boots. He didn’t seem to notice Ryan. His attention was focussed on the dark horizon.
“Radcliffe,” Ryan said, raising the gun.
Radcliffe turned to face him. When he saw the gun, he raised his hands.
“Where is she?” Ryan said.
“Gone.” Ryan could see tears staining the man’s cheeks. A sense of despair was evident in his face and the hunched posture of his body.
“Gone where?”
Radcliffe shrugged.
Ryan moved forward, pressing the muzzle of the Glock against Radcliffe’s forehead. “Where the fuck is she?”
The counter terrorism officer flinched and pointed out to sea. “Out there. He took her by boat. That’s all I know.”
Ryan looked out over the waves. There was no sign of a boat out there. There was nothing but blackness.
“He made me do it,” Radcliffe said weakly.
“I don’t give a fuck.”
“Look. This explains everything.” Radcliffe reached into his jacket pocket.
Ryan tensed. If a weapon came out of that pocket, he’d make sure Radcliffe regretted the day he was born.
