Before It's Too Late (30 page)

Something caught Jackman’s eye, just poking out from beneath the duvet. He bent down and pushed the wadding back. It felt strange through his rubber gloves.

“What is it?” Gray asked.

Jackman ignored him a moment and pushed the fabric back further to expose a black leather jacket. He tugged at it, felt the zip scrape against something set back deeper inside and reached in further, dragging out a dark motorcycle helmet. The yellow forty-six on the back was scored through the centre of the six just like the one in the photo on the wall in their incident room, worn by the motorcyclist who collected the first ransom drop.

Jackman stood and played out a scenario in his mind. He’d read about the work of ethnic gangs like the Triads. They were ruthless in their enforcement of debts. They rarely worked alone. The number of motorbikes with pillions suggested that three of them entered the flat, leaving their riders to keep the engines running. The main house entrance door was undamaged suggesting that Qiang had let them in. Maybe he meant to plead with them. He glanced back at the door to the flat. It was bowed where they’d kicked it in with such force that the lock had broken. Maybe Qiang saw the weapon, panicked and ran to his own flat, locked himself in.

He imagined them blasting in. Qiang Li’s fear at the sight of the knife. He’d look about for a way out. But the room was small. The entrance doubled up as an exit, blocked by them. There would be no escape.

Maybe two of the men grabbed his arms, held him back as another demanded the cash that was owed, meat cleaver in hand. He could almost see the beads of sweat on Qiang Li’s forehead as he pleaded for more time – only a matter of hours and the second drop would be made and he would be £40,000 richer. But they were expecting this. They’d heard it all before. No more excuses.

Surely someone would have seen something? Heard something?

Shutdown. Everyone was fearful for themselves, their family. Jackman glanced at the splatters of blood that still covered the walls. If gambling debts motivated Min’s uncle to kidnap two students and hold them for ransom, what was Whittaker’s role in all of this?

The ceiling light cast a band of iridescent colours through its crystal shade that blinded Jackman as he opened his eyes. He blinked several times and glanced across at the clock. It was 3.30am. It had been after midnight when he’d returned from Birmingham and fallen onto the bed into a fully clothed exhausted sleep. He hauled himself up, got undressed, turned off the light and climbed into bed.

Jackman shifted position several times and eventually lay on his back. Wide eyes stared into a screen of darkness. He scratched his chest and sighed. The email from the casino entered his head. Maybe he could just take a look.

He pulled back the covers, donned a robe from the back of the door and padded down the stairs, leaving Erik fast asleep on the bed. By the time he’d switched on the lamp, made himself a coffee and turned on his laptop, Erik emerged through the door. He cast a sleepy eye towards Jackman and climbed up on the sofa, curling up next to him.

Jackman stroked the dog’s head as he waited for his emails to show. As soon as his inbox filled the screen, he scrolled down, opened the email and waited for it to download.

Chapman had sent three days of footage dating from last Friday through to Sunday. Seventy-two hours of film. He clicked open and waited. A large image filled the screen. He recognised it as the foyer of the casino. Several smaller thumbnails sat across the bottom. He clicked a button in the corner and they enlarged themselves to form a patchwork of views from different areas of the casino: the gaming room, the bar, the lounge, the foyer. He pressed play, sat back and watched. It was a while before anything happened. He could see the girl he’d met on his visit behind the bar serving a drink. The back of what looked like the manager. Then nothing.

Several minutes passed before a thought nudged him. The chef at The Oriental Garden had described Qiang Li as nocturnal. He rarely showed himself in the daytime. He ran the bar across and picked up the footage again just after nine.

The casino was busier at this time. Several bodies milled about. Two couples dressed for a Saturday night out were playing roulette. The black jack table was heaving and several people were in the bar area. Jackman took a gulp of coffee and stared at the different views. Nobody resembled Qiang Li. He pressed fast forward so that he could watch it at twice the speed.

Minutes and hours passed. People moved through the casino, dabbling at the tables, enjoying themselves at the bar. Nothing jumped out at him. Erik’s body had heated like an oven and was pressed against his side. Eventually his eyes became heavy and gently closed.

Chapter
Fifty-Four

The ground beneath me felt soft and was moving, like water
.

There was a strange smell. A mixture of bleach and toothpaste. Covers that felt heavy pinned me to the bed
.

I shifted forward and moved to sit up but my head felt like a dead weight
.

The baby. The grazes on the backs of my fingers caught on the sheets and stung as I wrestled my hand to my stomach
.

So thirsty
.

A rustling in the background. I prised my eyes to tiny slits, opened my mouth, but only a squeak emerged
.

A female voice answered. Too faint to make out, but gently soothing
.

Was I dreaming? I thought back. The pit. The fields above. The roaring noise in the background
.

Lonny. I needed to help Lonny. I opened my mouth, croaked out his name
.

A hand rested on my shoulder. I flinched
.

More soothing notes. I concentrated on the voice. “Get some rest.”

I closed my eyes but all I could see was a bright light. Warm and inviting
.

Chapter
Fifty-Five

Erik slumped off the sofa with a thump. The sound caused Jackman to wake abruptly. He wrestled with the laptop and caught it just in time before it slipped off his lap. As Erik sat back and scratched his ear, Jackman rolled his shoulders and stared at the screen. The footage was still playing on fast speed. He checked the time. It had automatically scrolled through onto Saturday. He ran it through to the evening and rubbed the heels of his hands into his dry eyes.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there watching the movements on the screen. At one point he moved to make a fresh coffee, then resumed his seated position on the sofa. Just as he was deciding it was about time to get in the shower, an image moved across the screen. It looked vaguely familiar, although he couldn’t place it. It moved out of camera range and then back in again. Jackman leant in closer. It looked like Richard Whittaker, although he looked very different to the Richard Whittaker that sat in the police cell back at the station. The thick hair was combed down across the front of his head and he wore an open-necked white shirt and black trousers. He was talking to someone at the bar. Jackman enlarged the photo and zoomed in. He didn’t recognise the face of the other person.

Whittaker moved away and a moment later appeared in the gaming room, although he didn’t approach the tables. He stood in the corner, a pint of beer in his hand. A man approached him and shook his hand. A Chinese man.

All of a sudden a message flashed up on the screen. Battery low. Jackman jumped up, rushed through to the kitchen, grabbed the charger off the side and plugged it in. The box disappeared.

He zoomed back in. The man was standing in front of Whittaker with his back to the camera.

“Turn around,” Jackman said aloud. The man failed to comply. Another man approached in a smart black suit with a bow tie. Again he stood with his back to the camera.

Jackman shuffled from one foot to another. “Come on.”

Whittaker was animated, waving his arms in all directions. Jackman slowed the footage down.

When they turned, Jackman leant in closer to the screen. He pressed pause, reached for his jacket and pulled the old photo of Qiang Li out of the pocket. He unfolded the picture, smoothed out the creases and compared it to the image on the screen. The man wore a beige blouson jacket, similar to the one he saw in Qiang’s flat, but he couldn’t be sure if it was the same person. Jackman couldn’t see the left side of his face. He pressed play, hoping to catch him at another angle but the tape moved away.

He rewound and played back the scene. There were three men there, two of them Chinese. He slowed it right down, watched intently at every angle as they moved around. Just as he was about to give up, he caught it – a quick clip of his left profile. He rewound again, pressed play. His hair was pulled down over the ear, but there was a definite scar running down to his chin line. Qiang Li.

Suddenly, the third man turned slightly and Jackman got a blurred side view. He paused the tape, stood back. Qiang Li’s Chinese associate was a figure he’d seen before. In fact it looked very much like a face plastered right across the board in the incident room.

As Jackman and Davies trudged through the hospital that morning, Jackman gave her an update on the finding of Qiang Li’s body last night.

“Sounds dodgy. You should have called me.”

“No need. Gray has it all under control. There is something else though.”

They’d reached the doors of the lift and she pressed the button. As he relayed what he had found in the casino footage she rounded on him, “Lonny Cheung? Do you really think so?”

“Pretty much. I’ve emailed the footage to Keane to double check. He was discharged from this place yesterday. We’ve got him coming into the station to give us a formal statement this morning, but I think we need to ask him some more questions.”

The lift pinged. The doors rolled open. Two nurses in pale blue jackets stood at the back. They travelled up in silence. As soon as they exited and the doors closed behind them, Davies asked, “What does this mean?”

“It means there’s some kind of connection between Lonny, Qiang and Whittaker.” He lowered his voice as they rounded the corner and reached the entrance to Min Li’s room. “It means that Whittaker lied when he said he didn’t recognise them.”

Jackman noticed that the room looked markedly different this morning. Brighter somehow. Much like Min herself who sat on the edge of the bed dressed in a cream shirt and pale jeans. Freshly showered, her hair clumped together on her shoulders where it was still wet. Her eyes were clear and her face held a discernible clarity, in spite of the bruise that clouded her chin.

Jackman put on his kindest smile as he introduced them both. “I realise you’ve been through a terrible ordeal,” he said. “My detectives will need to obtain a formal statement from you later. In the meantime, can you explain to me in as much detail as you can the events of the past week, starting with Monday evening.”

Min Li managed a thin smile, then closed her eyes momentarily. When she spoke her voice was soft and gentle. Her account was surprisingly detailed and articulate. She worked through as much as she could remember: leaving the pub, the boys in the BMW, turning back towards the college. “I don’t remember being taken, but I have hazy thoughts of waking up in the back of a van, blurry images. When I awoke properly he’d already put me in the pit.”

“He?” Davies asked.

“I convinced myself it must have been a man. To carry me, lower me into the pit. And Lonny of course.”

“But you never actually saw him?”

She shook her head. “His face was always covered.”

“Could you describe him?” Jackman asked gently.

She paused a moment. “Tall, I think. Well, taller than me.” She shook her head again. “It all happened so quickly.”

She went on to describe his visit to the pit to deliver provisions. How frightened she had been. How, later, he’d tied her up when Lonny arrived. “He never came back after that visit. We wondered if you’d caught him?” She looked up at Jackman imploringly.

“When was that?” Jackman asked.

“Thursday. When Lonny arrived.”

Jackman saw Davies make a note. Whittaker wasn’t arrested until Saturday, which gave him plenty of time to visit the pit on Friday. Yet he didn’t. And the pathologist and police evidence so far estimated that Qiang Li had been killed on Thursday.