Topspin (34 page)

“What’s that got to do with me?” Jack asked, losing patience.

“I was getting to that.” He paused and took a sip of his drink, unable to look Jack in the eye. “You see, Celia came to me one day a few weeks ago looking better than I’d ever seen her. She’d had her hair done, put a bit of makeup on, got new clobber, the works. I knew there had to be a man at the back of the transformation and was glad for her.”

“Until he found out it was that bastard Wilf.”

“Ah, I see,” Jack said.

“Yeah, well, I don’t much like Wilf, but have you ever tried telling a woman who’s pushing forty and who’s getting some for the first time in her life that the only man who’s ever looked at her twice ain’t any good?”

Jack shifted in his seat. “You think Wilf targeted her deliberately?”

“Must have done, but I didn’t realize it at the time. She said she’d bumped into him by accident one day, and I believed her. He took her for a drink, talked about his recent divorce and stuff, invoking her sympathy, and it went on from there. I reckoned Wilf would ditch her again soon enough and she’d get a broken heart, but you know what they say, better to be a has-been than a never-was. I was glad to see her having a bit of fun for once, but when she told me Wilf wanted to get in touch with you and asked if I knew where you were, I immediately smelt a rat.”

“Which is when you should have come to me, you dozy bastard!” Cyril growled.

“Yeah, well, I’m sorry, boss.”

“You fucking will be!”

“But you did tell her where to find me?” Jack asked.

“In the end. She wore me down, Jack. I’m sorry, mate. She just kept on and on, nagging away like women do, reminding me of all the sacrifices she’d made for me and Mum. Was it too much to ask for one little telephone number in return? In the end I told her, just to get her off my back. I figured that if I didn’t, then someone else would, and I knew you could look after yourself.”

“But that doesn’t explain why you told her about Tania and the boy.”

“I didn’t realize that I had. No, straight up, Jack,” Pete said in response to Jack’s skeptical expression. “I wouldn’t have done that to you, mate, not knowingly. She asked me casually one day, before I even knew she was seeing Wilf, if I knew where Tania was nowadays and how old the boy was.” He shrugged. “I didn’t see any harm in telling her, especially as she already knew about Tania and the kid.”

“Seems like everyone did,” Jack said, glaring at Cyril. “Except me.”

“I couldn’t know she had a reason for asking.”

“She played him like a fucking Stradivarius,” Cyril said in a tone that made Jack glad it wasn’t directed at him. “The only reason the little tosser’s still breathing is that when he heard Tania had been taken he had the balls to put his hand up to what he’d done.”

“Course I did. I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to Tania.”

“You won’t have to,” Cyril said. “Anyway, I brought him along so he could tell you to your face just what an ungrateful little twat he is and to give him a chance to save his miserable neck. We might need him later. If necessary, he can call his bitch of a sister and see if he can get anything helpful out of her.”

Jack nodded. “Fair enough. But then, he’s not the only one with a guilty conscience, is he, Cyril? You didn’t think of mentioning to me that Tania was here, when you knew they were bound for this part of the world? It didn’t occur to you that they might think about using her and the kid to get at me?”

“You’re fucking out of order, Jack, but in view of the circumstances I’ll pretend you never said that.”

Tyson grunted, the only sound that had escaped his mouth since he’d arrived. Whether it was supposed to intimidate, or was uttered in frustration because it didn’t look as though his services would be required just yet, Jack didn’t care to speculate.

“Yeah, all right, sorry.” Jack paused. “Where do you think they’re holding them then, Cyril? Any ideas?”

“I phoned the club on the way here. The manager says her boy’s got something contagious, so she’s holed up with him in the flat she lives in above the club. She won’t let anyone in, hasn’t emerged herself all day, and gives instructions to the restaurant staff over the phone.”

“So they’re in there with her, then?”

“Sounds like it.”

“Can we get in?”

“It is possible, but it’ll be tricky, Jack. The club’s in an old warehouse close to the market in Surrey Street. There’s an iron fire escape running up the back of the building, but even Kevin wouldn’t be stupid enough not to have it covered.”

“Yeah, but if that’s the only way there is, then we’ll just have to create a diversion of some sort and give it a go. Don’t forget he’s not expecting me until tomorrow.”

“Don’t count on it. He might have delayed calling you until he thought the ferries had stopped running, but he’s even more of a moron than he used to be if he hasn’t considered the possibility of you getting to the mainland by other means.” Cyril rolled his eyes, his expression chilling. “Nabbing a woman and child in a club owned by me. I ask you, Jack, has he got a death wish, or what?” Jack knew Cyril’s question was rhetorical so didn’t bother to answer it. “Anyway, let’s make sure Tania’s still in her flat before we make any decisions.” He dialed a number on his mobile and spoke to someone called Frederick. “Shit!” he said when he ended the call. “Frederick says she’s not there anymore. She phoned him half an hour ago to say that the boy had taken a turn for the worse and she was on her way to the hospital with him.”

“Damn!” Jack thumped his thigh, his jaw taut with tension. “That means they could be anywhere. It doesn’t surprise me, though. They’d have to be suicidal to kidnap my wife and then hold her in your club, Cyril. They must know it’s the first place I’d look, and they must assume as well that I’d tell you about the abduction.”

“Yeah, well, nothing those wankers do surprises me. They came to me, yer know, after the business with Patel and seemed to think I’d take their side.” Cyril shook his head. “Anyway, I guess they reckon they have a score to settle with me as well, and mixing with the Turks seems to have fucked up what few brain cells they did have.”

“So, what do we do now?” Jack asked.

“Find them, I suppose, but Christ knows how. I sent Frederick upstairs to make sure Tania wasn’t still there, but he says the place is deserted. He also said it was a complete mess, which is most unlike Tania.” Jack nodded. Tania was one of the tidiest people he knew. Or at least she used to be. “People had been in there though, and recently. There were empty beer bottles and a full ashtray, dirty plates in the sink and stuff. Tania hates smoking and wouldn’t let anyone light up in front of Dimitri by choice.”

“Wouldn’t she have had to pass through the club to get out?”

“Nah, they’d have taken them down the fire escape. She and Frederick always talk in Russian, and my guess is it made Kevin nervous. He’d have been worried they were planning something, which is precisely how I intended to get through to her when we got here.” He thumped the side of his seat in frustration. “The bastards have wised up a bit since going over to the Turks.” Cyril turned and scowled at Pete. “Okay, dickhead, you got them into this mess, so now’s your opportunity to redeem yourself. Where will they have taken them?”

“I’ve been thinking about nothing else ever since I heard what happened, trying to remember if Celia’s ever said anything that might lend a clue.”

“Now wouldn’t be a good time to develop amnesia.”

“Give him a chance to think,” Jack said, aware how difficult it would be for anyone to focus when Cyril was in the mood to issue the sort of threats that made Tyson salivate.

“Well, there is one thing I’ve remembered, but I’m not sure how much help it’ll be. I think she once mentioned that Wilf’s in-laws from his first marriage have a place in this neck of the woods and that he’d stayed in it a few times.”

“Fat lot of fucking use that is,” Cyril said, “if we don’t know where that place is.”

Jack blinked as he thought for a moment. “It could explain why they chose this area, though,” he said. “What with Tania being here already, and their knowing someone that could be useful to them.”

“Yeah, but they can hardly foist two hostages on a couple who don’t presumably have Wilf on the top of their Christmas card list since he dumped their daughter.”

“True,” Pete said, “but I seem to recall these people spend a lot of the year in Spain. If so, their house would be empty, but they wouldn’t expect us to even know about it, much less be able to track it down.”

“That’s the problem, though,” Cyril said. “We don’t have a clue how to track it down.”

“Do you know their surname?” Jack asked.

“Burrows, I think, because I remember Sally Burrows before she was stupid enough to tie the knot with Wilf.”

Jack got straight on the phone to his contact. “It’s Jack, and this one’s urgent. I think the targets might be holed up somewhere in Croydon in a house owned by someone named Burrows. No idea where, but I need to find out, like, yesterday. I also need to know if Burrows is paying full council tax on the place or if it’s registered as a second home.”

“I’ll call you back.”

“Good thinking, Jack.” Cyril nodded his approval. “Come on, let’s wait in the car, and as soon as the call comes we can get moving.”

“Use mine,” Jack said.

Cyril slid into the passenger seat of Jack’s Jaguar. Tyson took up most of the back seat, squashing Pete into a corner. Not a word was spoken inside the car as they waited. The drumming of Cyril’s fingers on the armrest and the occasional cracking of Tyson’s knuckles were the only sounds to intrude upon the unnatural silence. Jack was impressed when his phone rang again just ten minutes later.

“Got a pen?” his contact asked. “Here’s the address.”

“We’re going to South Norwood.” Jack programmed the address into his SatNav and starting the engine. “And the house is registered as a second home, so the odds are that if there are any lights on, it won’t be the owners in there.”

“God, will you look at that,” Cyril said as they drove through Croydon’s town center. A bevy of teenage girls were weaving their way down the street, drunk as skunks, flashing their tits at every car that passed and cracking up with laughter at the responses they got. A group of lads was pursuing them, one of whom had stopped to throw up in the gutter. “Look at the state of them, and it ain’t even midnight yet. Is it any wonder our country’s gone down the pan if that’s the best the next generation has to offer?”

“We’re here.” Jack pulled into a quiet street full of terraced houses overlooking a small park. The houses were all situated at the top of steep flights of steps, which gave those inside an advantage. They’d easily be able to see anyone approaching the front of the houses. “Look for number seventeen.”

“Over there,” Tyson said.

Jack pulled up a little further down the road. All four of them peered across at the house, encouraged to see that the lights were on and a car was parked by the gate, blocking the entrance to the garage. Jack extracted a powerful pair of binoculars with night vision from his glove box and took a good look through them at the target house.

“If it’s a holiday place, and assuming they haven’t rented it out,” Jack said, “then I reckon we’ve found them. Still, let’s make sure.” He trained the binoculars on the number plate of the car outside the house. It agreed with the one his contact had given him earlier. “We’ve got ’em,” he said grimly.

“So what’s the plan, Jack?” Cyril asked. “This is your show. How do you want to play it?”

But Jack wasn’t listening. Instead his hands were shaking and his heart lurched painfully. He’d just seen a small figure at the front window of the target house, pulling back the curtains and peering out into the night as though he could sense that something was about to go down. He was whisked away almost immediately.

Even so, Jack had caught his first ever glimpse of his young son’s profile.

Chapter Sixteen

C
ONVERSATIONS
A
BRUPTLY
T
APERED
O
FF
as Joe walked into the bar with Angela and his son. Claire’s hasty exit hadn’t gone unobserved, or Jack’s either, and had become
the
red hot topic of conversation. Surely there couldn’t be trouble in a marriage they all thought had been made in heaven?

“There’s something about Claire I’ve never liked or trusted,” Millie said glibly. “She always seemed a little too good to be true. And as for the way Jack sniffs round her the moment Joe isn’t about…well, it was always going to end in tears.”

Stella, to whom this remark had been addressed, acted as though Millie hadn’t spoken.

“If he ever comes on the market again,” said one of Millie’s cohorts, smacking her lips as she stared at Joe with a calculated expression, “if we were ever to get that lucky, I give you due warning, ladies, it’ll be every woman for herself.”

The sight of Joe’s ravaged face was grist to the rumor mill, prompting an exchange of significant glances, raised eyebrows, and wildly inaccurate conjectures
.
Few people were looking anywhere other than directly at Joe, and Colin’s reaction to his arrival went unnoticed by the masses. Up until then he’d been in excellent form, relaxed and flirtatious, talking about the new project and what a financial windfall it would be for the members. Then he glanced around to see what everyone was looking at, saw Joe holding him in a death-watch glare, and visibly paled.