A New Dawn Rising (24 page)

Sam stared down in shock at the figure before him. So stunned was he by Canning's appearance, he failed to notice Bill Seymour slyly get out of his chair and move around the desk. When Sam did look over in Seymour's direction, the accountant was sprinting towards a door on the far side of the room.

'Hey!' Sam shouted, confused as to why was Seymour running. Only a guilty man would flee like that. Had Seymour duped him? Sam instinctively started after him. If Seymour was running to warn Starkey, then Sam had to catch him.

Peter Canning saw his chance. With Sam distracted, he jumped up off the floor and bolted out the same door he had just fallen through. Sam watched in dismay as Canning darted out of one door and Seymour the other. For a split second, he was undecided who to go after. And then it was too late. Both men had disappeared.

He had lost them.

***

Sam was fuming. He got into the Clio, slammed the door shut after him and whacked the palm of his hand down on the steering wheel. Why had he revealed the identity of Carl's killer to Seymour? If Seymour was involved, then Starkey would soon know Sam was after him. And what about Peter Canning? Where did he fit into all this?

Sam had one option left. The one he had been trying to put off. He put the car into gear and headed towards the Withdean estate. It was getting late but he couldn't imagine The Duck's patrons paying close attention to the licensing hours.

He was halfway there when he picked up a tail behind him once more. He took one or two sudden detours to check. The headlights stayed with him. Who was following him this time? It had to be either Seymour or Canning. One of them must have waited for him to leave the office block. Sam realised it mattered little right now. Time was too precious. Let them track him.

He pushed on to the Withdean.

***

Sam gazed over at the pub, contemplating the most effective way to draw Martyn Taylor outside. He had parked a distance from The Duck to allow himself some thinking time. There was no sign yet of the vehicle that had followed him from Seymour's office.

Sam's phone started ringing. This time he checked the caller display.

Lucy.

He pressed the button to accept the call.

'Sam?'

He felt his heart soar. The voice on the other end sounded breathless and frightened.

But she was alive.

'Lucy!' he exclaimed with relief. 'Where are you? Are you alright?'

'I'm sorry, Sam,' she replied, whispering frantically. 'I'm so sorry. He told me you were hurt and that he was a policeman. I panicked and got in the car with him. When I realised something was wrong, he locked all the doors to stop me-'

'Lucy, don't worry about that now. Just tell me where you are.'

'I-I'm in a basement. He's locked me in. There aren't any windows.'

Sam could hear her fighting back tears.

'He's still got you?' he asked in despair, having presumed she had escaped from Starkey. 'How have you managed to ring me?'

'I fell asleep in here for a while. He took my phone off me as soon as we got here, but when I woke up just now it was on the floor next to me. Somebody must have come in and give it me back. Sam, I don't understand what's happening here.'

Lucy started to cry. Deep, uncontrollable sobs. Sam closed his eyes. Listening to her in such distress was almost unbearable.

'Lucy, listen to me,' he said gently. 'Everything's going to be alright. Just take a few deep breaths.'

He heard her take several gulps of air. Gradually, her sobs began to recede.

'Better?' asked Sam.

'A bit,' she sniffed. 'Sam, I'm so scared.'

He was struck by the familiar pang of guilt. He was the reason Lucy was suffering right now. He had allowed her to become involved.

'I know you must be scared, Lucy, but I need you to focus so I can get you out of there. Do you understand?'

She didn't say anything for a few seconds. Sam could hear her trying to compose herself. He tried not to dwell on her fear.

'Lucy?'

'Okay,' she replied quietly.

'Right then, have you got any idea where you are?'

'Er, I don't really know. He put a jacket over my head when we got here and told me not to look or I'd be in even more trouble.'

Sam rubbed his jaw thoughtfully.

'What can you hear outside?' he asked.

'Outside? Nothing...nothing at all. I haven't heard any people or cars. All I can hear are the birds singing.'

It wasn't a lot for Sam to go on. It sounded as though she was in the middle of nowhere. The problem for Sam was most of Bursleigh was situated in countryside. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.

'Hold on,' said Lucy suddenly. 'I've remembered something. I don't know if it's important...'

'Go on,' urged Sam. 'Tell me, anyway.'

'I heard voices not long after I was put in here. People coming in through the front door. I heard talking. A woman and two men.'

Sam digested the information. That would have been Starkey and Molly. Another man? It had to be either Canning or Seymour.

'They all started arguing with each other,' continued Lucy, keeping her voice to a whisper. 'I couldn't hear what it was about, though.'

'Can you remember anything else?' asked Sam, wondering if the argument was the reason for Starkey's failure to ring him back. 'Anything at all?'

Lucy was silent for a few seconds.

'Yes, come to think about it,' she said eventually. 'I'm sure I heard children playing in another room. Girls, by the sound of it.'

Sam was surprised. Katie and Jenny must be there. Why would Molly want them anywhere near a building where they were holding someone prisoner?

'Lucy, describe the man who picked you up in the car for me,' he asked.

The description she gave of a stocky man with short hair and a permanent scowl matched Dave Starkey perfectly.

'Do you know who it is?' she asked.

'Yes,' replied Sam bitterly. 'It's Dave Starkey. He must have followed us back to your flat after I saw his wife in town-'

'But what does he want with me?'

The question struck Sam like a dagger through the heart. It was so simple and heartfelt. So innocent. Sam swallowed hard.

'When he took your phone off you, he rang me. He wanted me-'

'Hold on, Sam,' said Lucy urgently. 'I can hear something...'

Sam pressed the phone closer to his ear and listened. Above Lucy's shallow breathing, he heard the harsh sound of a bolt sliding, followed by a door opening. Lucy gasped sharply.

'Lucy, what is-'

A man's voice sounded down the other end of the line.

'Who are you talking to?'

Sam recognised the voice of Dave Starkey.

'N-Nobody,' he heard Lucy reply nervously. 'I-I was just talking to myself, that's all.'

'What have you got behind your back?'

Sam heard Lucy whimper before all hell seemed to break loose. A struggle was taking place. It sounded like Lucy was trying to fend Starkey off. Sam heard her shout in between gasps, begging Starkey to leave her alone. Starkey replied angrily, breathlessly demanding the phone off her.

Suddenly, Lucy screamed.

'Help! Sam, help me!'

Her voice was frantic. She sounded petrified. Sam could only listen helplessly to her desperate plea.

'Please, Sam! Help!'

The line went dead.

The dreams.

With Lucy's terrified screams still ringing in his ears, Sam was reminded of the recent nightmares. The last one about Lucy.

They had been about this moment.

Sam shook himself out of his trance. Do something. Anything.

He got out of the car, slammed the door shut and walked over to The Duck. A middle-aged man was also walking towards the pub, from the opposite direction. Sam shouted to get his attention.

'Hey, you!'

The man stopped when he realised Sam was calling him.

'Yes, mate?'

'Tell Martyn Taylor to come out here. I want a word with him.'

The man looked at Sam in confusion.

'Why do you-'

'Just go and get him!' barked Sam, taking a stride towards the man. 'Tell him I've got some important business to talk about.'

***

Sam kicked a stone along the ground and watched it bounce down the street. It stopped just short of a car purring sedately at the kerbside. The car's windows were blacked out. Its headlights shone brightly in his direction.

The Freelander.

Waiting to spring into action.

Sam kept one eye on the car and the other on the The Duck. If Martyn Taylor was drinking in the pub tonight, then Sam expected him out any moment. As for the Freelander, he wasn't concerned who was sitting inside it. Peter Canning, Bill Seymour, or the Queen of England. It made no difference to Sam. If anything, he could use the vehicle's presence to his advantage.

He watched three men come out of the pub, stop and look around. Spotting Sam, they headed his way. Sam moved to meet them. As the men got nearer, he recognised Martyn Taylor and the other two men from the Audi. It came as little surprise to Sam that Taylor had brought his mates out with him. Safety in numbers and all that.

The men were only yards away when they realised who was standing before them. Sam watched them exchange surprised looks. They clearly hadn't expected him to return to their patch. Martyn Taylor came to a halt a few feet short of Sam, with his cronies hanging back just behind him. He looked at Sam with something akin to wonder.

'You're either a very brave man, my friend,' he told Sam. 'Or very stupid. Now, which one is it?'

Sam ignored the question. He had no time for games.

'I want to know about Carl Renshaw,' he said. 'I want you to-'

'Why do you keep banging on about Renshaw?' asked Taylor. 'Haven't you heard he's dead?'

He grinned at his own joke. The men behind him laughed.

'Funny,' said Sam, losing his patience. 'Are you going to talk or not?'

The smile died on Taylor's face. He took a step towards Sam.

'Why should I talk to you after the stunt you pulled last night?' he sneered. 'In fact, me and the boys were thinking more about giving you a good kicking. What do you think of that?'

Sam sighed and looked up at the stars shining brightly in the night sky. If ever he needed a bit of luck it was now. He turned back to the three men.

'Do you see that car parked down the road?' he asked them. 'The one with its headlights on?'

They gazed passed him. Sam watched them flinch in unison on recognising the Freelander.

'Now, if you want to start trouble, that motor will be over here like a shot, and you know what happened last time they pulled up here.'

Taylor said nothing. He continued to stare at the blacked-out car. Sam could see by his pained expression he was still hurting from the ignominy of having a gun pointed at him in his own back yard.

'And if you're thinking of walking away,' continued Sam, 'I'll make a call, and that pub will be raided in five minutes flat...and so will all your homes...'

Sam was taking a big chance. He was banking on these men still being up to no good. Judging by the resigned look on Taylor's face, he had called it right. He was also hoping the Freelander was going to stay where it was for the next few minutes.

'And if we talk to you?' asked Taylor reluctantly.

'I'm out of here and you'll never see me again.'

Taylor contemplated the offer.

'Are you a copper?' he asked, spitting each word out.

'No, I'm not,' replied Sam. 'Do you think we'd be waving weapons around willy-nilly if we were police?'

Taylor locked eyes with Sam, studying him carefully. Then he shrugged nonchalantly and turned to the men behind him.

'Go back inside, boys,' he told them. 'Everything's cool out here.'

Sam watched them hesitate before following orders and heading back inside The Duck.

'Okay,' said Taylor, turning back to Sam. 'Let's talk...'

'I want to know why you fell out with Carl Renshaw years ago.'

'Who says I did?'

'Martyn, don't mess me about. I haven't got the time. It's all over that blog. Anyway, it's common knowledge Carl wasn't a popular man on this estate.'

Taylor sighed and stared over at the Freelander once more. Sam could tell he was curious to know who was in the car. Sam was looking forward to finding out himself.

'Okay, but I'm going to say this in a certain way,' Taylor said. 'No names, just in case you've got a mic shoved down your trousers.'

Sam nodded his approval. He didn't care if Taylor told his story in song as long as he could understand it.

'I presume you know about the trial?' said Carl. 'The time I spent inside?'

Sam nodded impatiently.

'Well, let's just say there was an unwritten rule at the time. Anyone who didn't get sent down was to stick around and look out for the families left on the outside. The wives, girlfriends, kids...'

'And Carl didn't,' said Sam.

'A certain person definitely didn't,' said Taylor, choosing his words carefully. 'That person just bunked off with their share of the profits and didn't give a toss about the people left behind.'

'That's it?' asked Sam, astonished. 'That's the reason you hate him so much?'

Taylor frowned at Sam.

'Something like that means a lot round here,' he said with conviction.

Sam couldn't believe it. Carl had broken some stupid code of honour and, as a result, Taylor had spent the years since detesting him for it. Sam would have understood if Carl had grassed someone up or given information to the police, but he hadn't. He had simply taken his portion of the ill-gotten gains, cut his ties and made a better life for himself. That's why Martyn Taylor had never resorted to revenge over the years. Carl had done nothing wrong.

'Are you sure it wasn't because you were jealous of him?' asked Sam. 'Angry because he moved on and did well for himself?'

Taylor shook his head vigorously.

'Look, you can believe what you want, but anyone around here will tell you it's the way he did it. He stabbed a lot of people in the back, leaving them to rot the way he did.'

One thing still puzzled Sam.

'So, how did Carl escape scot free? He wasn't even charged, was he?'

Taylor let out a small laugh.

'Do you know what? I'm not surprised he did well in business. He was always the sharpest bloke round here.'

'Meaning?'

'A couple of months before the police raided the estate he told me things were getting too hot. I didn't take any notice. I thought he was just being paranoid, but he was convinced. So he started to keep a low profile. Anything he did get involved in...any deals...meetings...he made sure he covered his tracks. Yeah, he was lucky on the day of the raid. He got away through a back door by the skin of his teeth, but he had made sure there would be no evidence of his involvement, and nobody was going to grass him up.'

Sam took it all in. He had his explanation for Taylor's animosity towards Carl, but he felt there was more. He was missing something.

'So, why haven't you ever got your own back for-'

Sam allowed the question to die on his lips. Taylor was smirking at him. Had he managed to get his revenge on Carl after all?

It all became clear to Sam.

Carl hiring him for protection. The vain attempts to raise funds by selling drugs. Martyn Taylor and his mates still up to no good. The prowler outside the Renshaw's house. The Audi pulling Sam over. The opportunity to finally get revenge after years of waiting.

'It was you,' Sam muttered, staring at Taylor with accusing eyes.

'What are you on about?' protested Taylor, holding his hands out in innocence. 'I didn't kill Carl Renshaw.'

Sam continued to look him squarely in the eye.

'No, you didn't kill him,' he agreed, 'but you did threaten him. You stopped him from selling drugs again. It was you he wanted protection from.'

Martyn Taylor's smirk widened.