Before It's Too Late (28 page)

“Owww!”

“Sorry.”

The weak, sickly feeling had dissolved, driven out by a rush of adrenalin. My mind focused on freedom. There was no room for anything else. I reached my hands through the gap and pushed back the wooden board at the top
.

A surge of sunlight gushed down
.

“Jesus!” Lonny cried from below. The weight in his body shunted to the side. I felt myself wobble as he steadied himself
.

I tried to look up. After days of living in a soft grey, the incandescent light pierced my eyes. But I knew I didn’t have long. I needed to open them, focus. This could be our only chance. I grabbed at the ridge of concrete, and began to haul myself up
.

I was almost through when my hand slipped. My chin hit the metal. I screamed as a pain seared my jaw bone and kicked out, desperately trying to gain a foothold. My foot collided with Lonny
.

“Arrgh!”

“You okay?” My voice was splintered, my energy divided between my pulling myself free and speech
.

“My ankle!”

I scrambled forward and pulled myself through the narrow gap, my kneecaps scraping and burning against the concrete as I moved
.

Out of the hole for the first time in days I paused, glanced about. I found myself in a battered old barn. Piles of rubble littered the floor. Daylight spilled in from a bare opening which must have at some point housed a door. The walls were a shoddy mixture of bricks and mortar. Wooden rafters hung precariously from above. Splinters of light slid in from a roof, which was in dire need of repair
.

I crouched at the side and glanced back in. The pit looked strange from this angle, like peering into a different world. “Are you hurt?”

Lonny was sat in the corner rubbing his lower calf. “I think I pulled my ankle.”

“Do you think you’ll still be able to jump up?”

He stood carefully, but as soon as he put any weight on the leg he cried out. He looked up, face crumpled in pain. “I don’t think I can do it.”

A scratching noise jerked me back into the shadow of the corner. I pressed my body against the cold brickwork. The noise stopped almost immediately. After a few moments, I edged towards the exit and craned my neck around the side. A pile of rubble sat in front of me, intermingled with a grassy mound that had been growing over and consuming it for what looked like many years. Beyond was a patchwork of fields stretching down the hillside to what looked like a road at the bottom. The air smelt clean, fresh, free
.

I moved back to the pit. “Lonny?”

“What can you see?”

“We’re surrounded by fields. There looks like a road in the distance. If we can get you out… ”

“No!”

“I can’t leave you here!”

“I’ll just delay things with my ankle. You go, get help.”

“I can’t… ”

“You have to, Min.”

I hesitated a minute
.

“Step back.”

I moved away from the hole just as a trainer found its way through. It bounced off the wall beside me, followed by another
.

“Take my shoes,” he said. “They’ll be too big, but at least they’ll protect your feet.”

My heart was in my mouth. What if our captor returned and found Lonny alone? I was torn, torn between helping Lonny, finding a way to get him out, or running to get help
.

“Go! Quickly!”

The urgency in his voice kick-started me into action. I pushed my feet into the trainers. He was right, they were too big, like paddle boats around my feet but I tightened the laces as much as I could and stood
.

“I’ll be as quick as I can!”

I moved forward tentatively, listening hard with every step
.

The sun flexed its muscles from its central position in the clear blue sky. I had to raise a hand to shield my eyes, although the instant warmth on my skin felt blissful. A quick scan of the area showed I was up high. There was a concrete path, wide enough for a single-track road to my right, beyond the mound of concrete and rubble. I shuddered. This was the likely route of our kidnapper. I couldn’t afford to use that. To my left a myriad of patchwork fields tumbled down into the valley below. In the far distance I could see a road. One, two, three cars whizzed past. I turned and headed down the field towards it
.

I swayed and tripped as I navigated my way down. Lonny’s trainers became heavy and clumsy. After only a few minutes, my legs ached, my mouth was parched
.

I passed a copse to my right, moved over the brow of the hill and came face to face with a hawthorn hedge at the bottom. My heart sank. There was no gate, no stile, no way through. I turned and glanced behind me. Perhaps there was a natural opening further back, into the copse maybe? But the thought of retracing my steps back up there, even if I had enough energy in my weary limbs was overwhelming
.

I moved down the hedging, searching for an area where the branches that intertwined together to form a natural wall were less dense. Finally I reached a small gap. If I curled up and moved through on my knees I could just about make it. Armed with a thick stick from nearby I batted the surrounding area in an attempt to increase the size of the hole. Finally, I was through
.

Then I heard a noise
.

It sounded like a loud snort. I turned. A herd of black and white cattle crowded in the far corner, less than two hundred yards away. Fear engulfed me. I’d seen cows before in photographs of the countryside back home, but having lived in a city for all my life, I’d never seen them in the flesh, and certainly never been in a field with them. Primal fear flushed my veins. I kicked off the shoes that were slipping and sliding around my feet, and ran as fast as I could. Through another hedge. Stones snagged at my feet, the sun picked at every inch of bare flesh. My vision blurred, my knees weakened, stomach ached, but I couldn’t stop
.

Another noise. The sound of an engine. I could barely see now, but my ears were sharp. It was in the field, closing in on me. And that’s when I realised the game was up
.

Chapter
Fifty-One

Back in his office, Jackman shoved his hands in his pockets, leant against the side of the window frame and stared out into the evening. The interview had been frustrating. Whittaker knew the score – it was up to the police to find proof of his direct involvement in the kidnapping. And without witnesses or camera footage on the stretch of the Hagley Road where he claimed to have met the stranger that persuaded him to send the email, they could neither prove nor refute his account.

So far, background checks showed no association with Min Li or Lonny Cheung, let alone Stratford College. But Jackman could tell by Whittaker’s reaction to the photo of Min’s uncle that he’d seen him before. Suddenly a flashback from the Skype interview with Min’s parents skipped into his head. Mr Li had said that his brother was good with languages. The ransom notes were sent in Mandarin as well as Cantonese. Did Qiang draft the notes for Whittaker to send? He needed to find the link between them and fast.

The door creaked as it opened behind him, breaking his concentration. He turned as Reilly entered.

“Ahh, Will,” he said as he seated himself in the chair opposite. “Good to see that we are finally making some progress. Any news on the victims?”

Jackman shook his head and shared the details of the interview.

“A likely story,” Reilly replied.

“I don’t think it’s him,” Jackman said.

“We know he sent the email.”

“Yes, he sent an email. But I think someone else did the kidnapping. I think he had help.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Something about the whole situation doesn’t ring true. The ransom demands are written in grammatically correct Mandarin and Cantonese. What’s his link to the Chinese community? We’ve checked with the DVLA. He doesn’t own a car, a motorbike and he doesn’t even hold a licence. How would he get over here to Stratford? How would he make the ransom collection?”

“Half the criminal fraternity of Warwickshire doesn’t have a licence. It doesn’t stop them.”

“That doesn’t answer the Chinese link. I’m still wondering whether we should release him.”

“What?”

“We can only keep him until tomorrow morning and, right now, unless he gives us a name or CSI find something at his house, we haven’t enough to plant a charge on him.”

“Forensics might come up with something. We’ll get an extension.”

“On what grounds? That he sent an email? That makes him an accessory, but if we charge him with that and he doesn’t talk we’re no closer to the truth. The victims are still out there.” Jackman paused, weariness was creeping into his voice. “Look, we know that he’s involved in this in some way. If he is the driving force, the very fact that we’ve tracked him down is going to scare him. Even if they are dead, he may still need to dispose of their bodies, clothes or other evidence he might have stashed somewhere. And if he’s not in charge, then it’s likely he’s going to try to make contact with whoever is. I don’t think we can miss a chance like this.”

“Oh, come on Will, I’m not sanctioning surveillance on Whittaker when I see absolutely no benefit. We’ve spent a small fortune on this case – tracking the boyfriend for twenty-four hours… ”

“He was a strong lead with motive… ”

Reilly cut through his words, “Search parties at Clifford Chambers.”

“You organised that!” Jackman could feel his fatigue gradually being replaced by anger.

“We just need to work him over a bit harder. Chuck him in a cell for the night. That’ll give him a little clarity of mind.” Reilly checked his watch. “Right, I need to be off. Got another press conference at 5pm. Be good to share the developments.”

Jackman seethed as he watched him stride out of the room.

He looked back at his notes. Relying on questioning was a risky strategy, especially since Whittaker wasn’t giving them anything. They needed a new lead, some fresh evidence. He reached for his phone, dialled Gray and requested that they step up the search for Min’s uncle.

Davies’ face appeared around the door as he replaced the receiver. “Sir.” Her face was sombre. “They’ve found a girl they believe to be Min Li. You need to come now.”

Jackman turned left off the A3400 and onto a single-track road that passed a collection of industrial units on the left before it became rough and uneven. He followed the track up the winding hill until he reached a couple of police cars parked at an angle, next to an old Land Rover. A cluster of uniformed officers stood beside them, one of them speaking into his radio. Blue and white chequered police tape cordoned off the area which included a nearby rubbish tip and two adjoining barns beyond.

The first person Jackman recognised when he climbed out of the car was PS Barby, the duty sergeant. He approached him and shook his hand. “Thanks for getting everything set up here,” he said. “What do we know?”

“The farmer, Mr James Edwards, was fencing three fields away,” he paused to point to a patchwork of fields that stretched down to the road, “when he saw the girl who matched Min Li’s description. She appeared from a gap in a hedge. She was weary and almost immediately lost consciousness. When the ambulance arrived she came around for a few seconds. Just kept uttering the same name: Lonny.” They took Min to hospital. We searched the area and found these barns. There’s a pit in one of them, covered by a grate. Lonny Cheung was still in there. He said they were trying to escape when he sprained his ankle.”

“Are they both okay?”

“The paramedics said Min Li’s suffering from a mixture of exhaustion and dehydration. They’ve taken them both to hospital.”

“Great. Get a full search team out here, will you? I want this whole area examined.” He looked up at the sky, which had now darkened into patches of blues and purples like a nasty bruise. Heavy rain was threatening. “As soon as you can.” Jackman thanked him and moved across to the Land Rover. The tall figure of Mr Edwards in an open-necked green shirt, jeans and wellies leant against it. He was twirling a flat cap in his hands, over and over, eyes fixed on the countryside.

Jackman tilted his head to catch his attention and introduced himself. “Could you tell me exactly what happened?”

Mr Edwards turned to him. His eyes were slightly glazed. “I’d finished fencing in the willow field at the bottom.” He pointed down in the same direction as Barby. “I’d just climbed into the Land Rover and revved the engine when she appeared through a tiny gap in the hedge, right in front of me.” He gulped. “I only just hit the brakes in time.” He shook his head, as if he still couldn’t believe what he’d seen. “She was dirty, her clothes ripped and grimy, her hair matted. But as soon as I saw her I knew it was that girl on the television. The one that was missing. She had no shoes on her feet. God knows what she’s been through, poor kid.” He paused, continued to twirl the cap in his hands. “She’d passed out by the time I reached her. Only woke up briefly when the ambulance and police arrived. They said they wanted to comb the area, find out where she’d come from and asked me for any landmarks. I couldn’t think at first. I mean there’s a derelict house on the bridle way further back, the industrial units across the way. I didn’t even think of these barns until the last minute. Haven’t used them in years. We only come up here to dump our farm rubbish.”