A New Dawn Rising (25 page)

'You want to come along with me?'

Sam couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice.

'Yep,' replied Taylor casually. 'You need someone to show you where the house is and I want to see Starkey get his comeuppance.'

Sam gave it consideration. Taylor had been curious to know why Sam was so interested in Carl, and as the man in question was no longer with them, Sam hadn't seen the harm in re-telling the events of the last few days, right up to Lucy's abduction. Taylor's eyes had nearly popped out when Sam mentioned Dave Starkey. Grinning inanely, he told Sam about a place Starkey had used as a safe house many years ago. Sam agreed it could be worth a try.

That's when Taylor had insisted on tagging along.

'Don't tell me you've got a grudge against Dave Starkey as well?' asked Sam.

A brief look of anger flashed across Taylor's face.

'I've always believed Starkey did a deal with the police before that trial,' he said bitterly. 'Gave them some information that allowed him to walk free. A lot of people thought the same at the time.'

Sam thought of Starkey holding Lucy right now. Going to any means to achieve his ambition.

'And when he was offered the job at DR Garments-'

'That's right,' nodded Taylor. 'He couldn't get away from here quickly enough. Nobody on the estate could ever prove Starkey had co-operated with the law, but everyone knew.'

Sam watched Taylor shift about on the spot, itching to be given the green light to tag along. This was turning out to be Martyn Taylor's much-belated time of retribution. Carl had already suffered the ultimate punishment, and now Dave Starkey was on the verge of getting his just desserts. None of it sat right with Sam. However, he had no time for morals. Taylor was right. Sam didn't have a clue where Starkey's place was, and anyway, it might be useful to have some back-up.

He just never envisaged having Martyn Taylor as a side-kick.

'Okay, get in the car,' he instructed Taylor. 'But, Martyn...'

'What?'

'No funny business on the way.'

Sam flicked his head in the direction of the Freelander, reminding Taylor they still had company. Taylor took the hint, nodding with a broad smile before climbing into the passenger side of the Clio. Sam walked around to the other side and opened the driver's door. Before he got in, he glanced back at the Freelander.

Sam was sorely tempted to walk up to the vehicle and find out who was inside. But it would be futile. The occupants would either drive off, or worse, level a gun at him. Sam realised it was the one thing that didn't add up. If it was Seymour or Canning in the Freelander, then why had they protected him if they were involved with Starkey? It made no sense. But who else could have picked up his tail this evening? He had only been to Seymour's office and the police station-

The police station.

Sam realised he had got it all wrong.

It was the police following him. It had been them all along.

The question was...why?

'Take a left down here.'

Sam nodded grimly and followed Taylor's instruction. His passenger was in a jovial mood.

'I'm not surprised Dave Starkey's done something like this,' he told Sam. 'He was always a devious toe-rag.'

Sam thought that was rich coming from a small-time gangster who had been prepared to beat the living daylights out of him just minutes ago. The same man who had frightened Carl so badly he had resorted to hiring Sam as a bodyguard.

'Yeah, but to commit murder, arson and kidnap,' argued Sam. 'And all in the matter of a few days.'

'It still doesn't surprise me,' repeated Taylor. 'You don't know the bloke like I do.'

No, I don't, thought Sam. But I'm getting an idea.

'Do you really think Starkey and Molly Renshaw have got it together?' asked Taylor, tapping a rhythm out on the window sill with his fingers.

'Why not?' replied Sam. 'Everything points to that.'

'I can't see it myself,' said Taylor, shaking his head. 'They were never what you'd call friendly when we were younger.'

'People change,' said Sam. 'Especially when money is involved.'

Taylor grunted. Sam could see he wasn't convinced.

They passed a road sign declaring they were leaving the district of Bursleigh. As they headed out into remote countryside, Sam could see nothing but darkness ahead of him. Behind were the headlights of the Freelander, faithfully keeping its distance.

'We're about five minutes away,' said Taylor. 'It's a big farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. But, remember, we could be coming out here for nothing. I don't know if Starkey still owns the place.'

The middle of nowhere sounded promising to Sam. Lucy had told him she couldn't hear any noise where she was being held. If she was there, then Sam was going to have to play things by ear. That didn't worry him particularly. He was used to working like that. What did concern him were the unknown factors. The one sat next to him in the car, currently chatting away like an excited schoolboy on a day trip, and whoever was in the vehicle behind.

'I'm looking forward to seeing the look on Starkey's face when we-'

'Martyn, I want you to stay out of it,' said Sam. 'If you want to see justice done, then lie low and I'll shout if I need help.'

When Sam got no reply, he glanced across at his passenger. Taylor was almost sulking.

'Do you understand?' said Sam. 'We don't know what we're going to find there and I don't want to put Lucy at any risk by making a rash move.'

Taylor shrugged.

'Okay, my friend,' he answered, giving Sam a mock salute. 'If that's the way you want it. So, who's this Lucy then? She must mean a lot-'

'None of your business,' Sam told him bluntly. 'Anyway, you're going to have problems of your own when you return home. I wouldn't have thought your mates are going to be too happy with you jumping in a car with me. Not after I laid two of them out.'

Taylor laughed.

'They do as I tell them,' he told Sam matter-of-factly.

Sam suddenly felt uncomfortable. He could find nothing at all to like about Martyn Taylor. Not his methods. His way of life. Nothing.

Sam sighed and pushed his foot down even harder on the accelerator.

Sam's phone burst into life.

They both jumped.

'We need to pull over here, anyway,' said Taylor. 'The house is only up the road.'

Sam drove on a few more yards before parking in front of a metal gate and switching his lights off. Almost immediately, the headlights on the vehicle behind also went off. Sam reached inside his jacket and pulled out the ringing phone.

It was Richie calling him back.

'Sam, I've found something.'

'What have you got for me, mate?'

'The bloke you were asking about,' said Richie. 'I've found two properties listed in his name.'

'That was quick,' replied Sam. 'Go on...'

He listened as Richie reeled off the first address to him. Sam recognised the street name. It was on the other side of Bursleigh.

'Okay,' he said. 'And the other one?'

'It just says Middlemarch Farm, near Bursleigh. There isn't a number.'

Middlemarch Farm. That's where they were heading.

'That's the one,' said Sam quietly into the phone. 'We're on the right track.'

'What do you mean, bud?' asked Richie. 'You're not going after this fella alone, are you?'

'Look, I've gotta get off, mate,' replied Sam hurriedly. 'I appreciate-'

'You are, aren't you?' butted in Richie. 'Even though you're in the clear?'

Sam didn't have time to justify himself. Nor did he wish to.

'Trust me, mate,' he said. 'I don't want to be doing this but needs must.'

Sam sensed Richie hesitate. They had worked on so many undercover operations together over the years. Both men knew the score. Things didn't always go to plan.

'Okay, bud,' sighed Richie. 'But you're going to have to be careful with this guy. I've looked him up. He had plenty of form years ago. Used to hang around with a local villain called Martyn-'

'Bloody hell, mate,' said Sam quickly. 'It's getting cold out here. I'm gonna have to go.'

Sam held his breath, hoping Richie still remembered one of the little nuances they had developed during their partnership. Talking randomly about the weather basically meant shut up because you're dropping me in it.

Thankfully, Richie had a good memory.

'It's that time of the year,' he told Sam, playing along. 'Okay, I'll let you go. But, Sam?'

'Yes, mate?'

'Whatever you're doing...watch yourself.'

Sam rang off and tucked the phone back into his pocket.

'Well, at least we know Starkey still owns the farmhouse,' he said to Taylor. 'I just hope this is where he's lying low.'

Martyn Taylor was studying Sam with great interest.

'Very impressive, I must say, ' he said, raising an eyebrow. 'Useful contacts. Friends with weapons. Are you sure you're not a copper?'

Sam shook his head. Taylor's look had turned to one of suspicion. Sam couldn't care less. He didn't trust Martyn Taylor any more than Taylor trusted him.

Sam had a feeling he was going to need eyes in the back of his head tonight.

Sam could see three cars parked outside the farmhouse. Squinting through the darkness, he recognised Molly's Range Rover immediately. Next to it was a light-coloured car with a dark door on the driver's side. That would be Dave Starkey's. Sam had more trouble with the third vehicle. An expensive looking sports car that Sam had definitely laid eyes on recently.

Outside the office block. It had been parked there earlier in the evening.

Sam cursed quietly. Seymour had hoodwinked him back at the office after all. He was in on this as well. He must have raced out here after fleeing his office, desperate to warn Starkey that Sam was on to him. Sam supposed it made sense. Molly and Starkey needed someone to organise the substantial windfall that would be coming their way from Carl's estate. Yet, Sam had thought better of Bill Seymour. His instinct had told him the accountant was a decent man. Another character he had misjudged.

Sam heard a noise behind him. He turned around to see who was there.

'I thought I told you to stay in the car,' he whispered angrily.

Martyn Taylor hunched down next to Sam. Even in the gloom, a wide grin was visible on his face.

'We agreed to leave the exciting stuff to you,' he said. 'We didn't say anything about watching the fun from a distance.'

Sam rolled his eyes. It was bad enough knowing the occupants of the Freelander could be roaming about right now without having this idiot doing the same.

'This isn't a bloody game, you know!' he hissed. 'Right, stay here. I'm going to have a scout round.'

***

Sam couldn't see a light on anywhere in the farmhouse. He had done a circuit of the building while keeping to the shadows. It was a sprawling property, with a barn and outhouses attached to the main house. Sam had no doubt it had once been the hub of a thriving working farm. Not anymore. There wasn't an animal or piece of machinery in sight.

Gazing at the front of the house, he wasn't fooled by the deathly silence and lack of lights. They were in there, Sam was sure of that. And Lucy was in there with them. The problem for Sam was how to get in. Knocking on the door and rushing whoever answered was no good. He couldn't afford to alarm them in any way. Not while they were holding Lucy. No, he needed to think of another way. One that would enable him to keep the element of surprise.

It would have to be the kitchen window at the back.

Sam crept back the way he had come until he reached the back garden. Keeping low, he dashed across the lawn and ducked underneath the kitchen window. Slowly, he withdrew a small implement from his pocket. An extremely sharp glass-cutting tool he kept for no particular reason from his undercover days. Taking a deep breath, Sam stood up and peered in through the window. He saw nothing but darkness. Wasting no time, he started cutting the pane in a steady, circular motion. It was a laborious and time-consuming task, but eventually he felt the small piece of glass give. He pushed it gently, then carefully popped it out, catching it in his palm. He stopped and listened for a few moments. Still no sound from within the house. He slid his arm through the hole he had made, carefully lifted up the latch and pulled the window open.

Suddenly, the kitchen was partially lit up by a light from further within the house. Sam quickly pushed the window back against its frame and ducked back down under the sill. He held his breath and waited. If the person inside turned on the kitchen light and looked over at the window, they could hardly fail to see the hole he had made.

To his dismay, the kitchen light did come on. Sam ducked down even further, pressing his back up against the wall in an attempt to make himself as small as possible. Someone entered the kitchen, whistling. Sam heard a fridge door open and close, followed by footsteps leaving the kitchen. Seconds later, the light went off.

Sam blew out his cheeks in relief. The hole hadn't been spotted. He pushed himself back up and looked over the window sill. In the kitchen, all was dark and still again. He re-opened the window and hauled himself through it, landing noiselessly on the kitchen floor. Sam extracted his flash-light from his pocket and switched it on. Scanning it across the walls, he could see two doors leading off the kitchen, both of which were slightly open. The first one revealed only a small pantry. Sam turned his attention to the other door. He presumed it led to the living-areas. Taking a grip of the handle, he pushed the door open. A musty smell hit Sam as he waved his light around a dark sitting-room.

Suddenly, he was blinded by a light being shone directly in his face. He raised an arm to shield his eyes from the dazzling beam.

'You just couldn't leave it alone, could you, Sam?'

Dave Starkey's voice.

Sam had walked right into a trap.