Tower Thirty Four: The Collectors Book Three (The Collectors Series 3) Read online

  “I said you wouldn’t have to kill anyone.”

  “Minor detail, Night-Fighter. We’ll be cruising Camden at the agreed time.”

  Chapter Three

  The narrow cobbled streets were quiet as Spink departed from his office on the dot of six o’clock. He strolled at a brisk pace. Out of a doorway stepped a tall, fit-looking black man, his face passive. The dark suit and polished shoes were the telltale signs of a professional. He remained a pace behind. Spink supposed this man worked in one of the other offices. The long hair and sunglasses were out of place for a man in his forties. His steps matched his, stride for stride.

  Bear’s right hand pressed the send button on his mobile and a text winged its way to James.

  “Good evening for a walk,” said Bear.

  “Sorry”.

  “I said it’s a good evening for a walk.”

  “I agree. I always enjoy this time of day.”

  The savage roar of an engine behind him gave Bear his cue. With a screech, a flurry of dust and the stink of scorched rubber, a white Ford Transit skidded to a halt.

  The back doors flew open, two individuals dressed in black, their heads hooded, leapt out. In one movement, they grabbed Spink, hurled him into the rear compartment, jumped in, and slammed the doors.

  With practiced efficiency, Spink’s attackers pinned him to the floor, secured his hands and feet with cable ties, gagged and pulled a thick Hessian sack over his head.

  Bear, with the speed of a younger man, hopped into the passenger seat.

  James floored the accelerator and the front tyres smoked as the van charged away. Not saying a word, Bear removed the wig and glasses, and scratched his head.

  James, his adrenalin pumping, took a drawn-out, albeit tortuous route to the industrial estate. At the entrance to a large, stark warehouse, he stopped and waited.

  Bear jumped out and slid open the double doors. At a crawl, James drove in and parked with the van’s rear a few metres from a steel transport container.

  Bear let his eyes wander the length and breadth of the building.

  James leapt to the ground and stood to one side of the van, his muscular arms folded across his chest. “Night-Fighter, it’s as tight as a drum. Went over every square inch yesterday.”

  Bear went to the container and swung the single steel door open; the dark interior gave the impression of a deep void. He nodded to James, who banged on a panel behind him. The vehicle doors opened and the two men wearing black grabbed Spink and dragged him into the container.

  With his right hand, Bear held an electronic voice box to his mouth. “Mr Spink, you tried to intimidate friends of mine. The next phase of this game is for you to talk. I’m going to leave you here, trussed like a Christmas turkey. For the moment, please contemplate that fragile thing we call life. Tomorrow we’ll be back to ask you a few questions. Have the answers ready or we will resort to more unpleasant measures.” He smiled as Spink attempted to shout. With a mighty heave, he slammed the steel door shut and padlocked it. “I’ll do the first shift until midnight.”

  James thumped the metal sides with a hammer. The vibrations reverberated throughout the building. “How long do you suppose he’ll last before he talks?”

  “Not long. At the moment he’s scared shitless.”

  The other two men removed their black coveralls and hoods. “Life must be treating you well. You’ve gained a few pounds since the old days.”

  Bear smacked his stomach and laughed. “Good living, but I’ll give you a run for your money. Zack, Brian, thanks for helping out.”

  “We’re still a good team, and from what James told us, that bastard in the cage deserves the grief.”

  “Men, remember what I told you, park your cars well away from here before you come on shift.”

  With a wave of their arms, both men left the building.

  “Two of the best,” said Bear.

  “You’d better believe it. Our friend is remarkably still.”

  “He’s not stupid,” said Bear, “but he knows we’re not amateurs and he’ll stay awake contemplating what’s next. You’d better be going. Where’s the food?”

  James laughed. “There’s a dozen corned dog sandwiches with pickle and a large thermos of coffee. Should keep you going ‘til midnight. What's more, I’ve brought a portable gas fire; it’s going to get arctic in here tonight.” He wandered over and removed the food and the heater from the cab of the van, placing them on the concrete floor. Bending, he detached the false front and rear number plates from the legal ones.

  “Where are you going to dump the van?” asked Bear.

  “In the municipal car park. With luck it’ll be stripped to its shell long before this little lark’s over.”

  “Make sure you’re not caught on candid camera.”

  “I gave the local yobs fifty quid to destroy the cameras in the basement. The council takes at least three months to replace a damaged light bulb. Apart from dim lighting, your wig and glasses should do the trick and I walk convincingly as an old man.”

  Bear nodded. “Get your arse out of here. I’ll be waiting for your return at midnight.”

  With a grunt, Bear slid open the doors and let James drive out. Satisfied, he completed a tour of the internal walls, checking for any openings where local vandals or druggies might gain access.

  In what had once been an office, he sorted out the heater, lit it and sat on the floor. He ate a few sandwiches and drank the coffee. His hunger pangs satisfied, he wandered to the container and listened, but it remained quiet.

  With the padlock removed, Bear opened the door, allowing it to slam against the steel side. In silence, he stood a short distance from the opening and scanned the darkness. He covered his head with a hood discarded by one of the others. In a corner he could just make out a body. With heavy footfalls he entered, stopped and wrenched the hood and gag from Spink.

  He stepped back and studied the man.

  Spink breathed heavily and in a harsh voice began to offer money for his release.

  “Mr Spink, I’ve sold my soul to the devil more times than a whore drops her knickers. You don’t have the money to buy me.”

  Bear sauntered out, crashed the door shut and rattled the padlock. A sneer crossed his lips as he removed his hood. “You’re doing well,” he muttered, “but when you’re frightened enough, you’ll squawk like a parrot.”

  In the office, he catnapped. In the same way as a regular soldier, he had mastered the art of sleeping with one eye open.

  At sporadic intervals, he repeated the intimidation. On his final visit when he opened the door, the pungent odour of faeces told him that Spink had soiled himself. At five minutes to midnight the warehouse door rattled and then someone banged three well-defined knocks.

  Bear pulled it open. James stood there, his eyes peering around the empty space.

  “Quiet?”

  “Our man has promised me twenty thousand if I set him free. You should be on half a million by morning.”

  “Do you know you still surprise me by what you’re prepared to do for a friend. Especially knowing the things you’ve had to do way back.”

  “I have on many occasions chosen between killing someone and letting a member of my team die. I always protected my men and, in turn, they covered my arse. It worked for me. I’ll leave you to it.”

  Assignments in Iraq and Afghanistan gave Bear the edge when it came to patience. For far too many nights he’d hidden in stinking storm drains, waiting. Spink would break. He smiled. The moment the opportunity of justice presents itself, you seize the offender with both hands and kick the shit out of him. For a while he pondered on one more visit, but decided to let the bastard stew.

  Chapter Four

  Breakfast, a meal never missed by Bear, consisted of bacon, eggs, sausages, tomatoes, a plate of brown toast and two mugs of black coffee. This morning Jocelyn discovered the exception to the rule.

  The alarm blasted out music from Radio London at six, waki
ng them. Bear showered, dressed and kissed her goodbye.

  Jocelyn frowned as the front door closed.

  * * *

  With a determined stride, Bear entered the warehouse. He stopped and waited for Zack to lock the door.

  “Yeah, Brian brought breakfast. We left a couple of bacon rolls for you. They’ll be cold, but knowing you it won’t matter.”

  “Coffee?”

  “In the flasks.”

  “Thanks.” Bear picked up a roll and poured out a coffee. “How’s the turkey?”

  James chuckled. “He stinks worse than a blocked sewer. He raised his offer each time I disturbed him.”

  “Let’s get on with it,” said Bear, “although I doubt if he’ll break today but then, who knows, we might get lucky. Masks and voice boxes.” He paused before he told James, “Open the door.”

  Inside the container it took Bear a few minutes before his eyes adjusted to the gloom. He moved briskly towards the heap cowering in a corner. “Welcome to hell, Mr Spink. Ready to die?”

  A feeble utterance came from the dark. “Please, please, let me go. I’ll give you money.”

  “Mr Spink,” said Bear, “have you any idea how long a man can survive without water? You are by now suffering from mild dehydration, your blood has become thicker and your heart has to work harder. You’re not fit so, at best, I’d give you six days. I’ll leave you to contemplate those facts for a day or two before we speak again.” He nodded to James. “Seal it tight.”

  Spink attempted to get to his feet. “I’ll answer your questions.”

  Metal slammed against metal. Four men returned to the office, removed their masks and voice boxes and smiled.

  “How long are you going to leave him?” asked Zack.

  “Four hours should be enough. He’s tired, frightened and hasn’t a clue why he’s here. Let his mind fester for a while. For the moment we have time on our side.” He turned. “James, you go home and sleep. Brian, there’s a bakery on the high street. Last time I passed, I noticed it sells hot pies and filled rolls. Take this,” he handed over five ten pound notes, “and buy lunch. At the same time collect everything here and dump it in a bin.”

  “On my way. No probs, Sergeant.”

  Bear glowered. “Cut the sergeant crap. Zack, throw these two reprobates out and we can have a game of cards.”

  They ran out of coffee minutes before the main entrance rattled, followed by three hard bangs.

  “I’ll open it,” said Bear.

  As he opened the door, Brian stood waiting with a white plastic bag full of food.

  Bear’s nose twitched. “Steak and kidney pies. Wonderful.”

  Lunch took the next half an hour and Brian fussily gathered the waste and dumped it in bin liner. “Two salad rolls left for tea. Listen, it’s persisting out there.”

  Bear checked the time. “Five hours since our man had a visit. Let’s wake him.”

  They donned their masks as Brian unlocked the door and swung it back with an almighty crash. The noise reverberated throughout the warehouse.

  Spink shielded his eyes as the glare of a torch struck them.

  “How are you?” asked Bear through his voice box. “Two gone, four to go.”

  “Who are you?” asked Spink, the words rattled from his mouth.

  “A friend of someone you annoyed and I can tell you he wasn’t a happy bunny. First question, and if you answer it correctly, you get half a cup of water.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “We shut the door. Who’s your employer?”

  “Myself, I’m a lawyer specialising in company law.”

  “Wrong answer. Close the door.”

  Brian slammed it shut with the same ferocity he’d opened it. “I reckon once more before he bursts wide open?”

  “Let him sweat. Waiting is a killer when you haven’t a clue what’s coming next. Any coffee left?”

  Brian, removed his mask, lifted the thermos and shook it. “A drop.”

  * * *

  “Let’s kick arse,” said Bear. “Can’t allow ratfink to get comfortable.”

  The main entrance rattled, followed by one bang then two more in quick succession. The night shift had arrived.

  Brian let James in, strolled back to the container and readied himself. Bear checked they wore masks before nodding. He did his usual trick of slamming the door hard back.

  Using his voice box, Bear bellowed, “Ready, Mr Spink?”

  A croak came from the man buckled in the farthest corner. “I told you the truth but you didn’t believe me.”

  “You did not answer the question. Mr Spink, are you familiar with enhanced interrogation techniques. The armed services often use them to obtain information.”

  “I’ve heard of them,” he replied, his voice shaky.

  “Good, then you will recognise the term water-boarding. The prisoner, that’s you, is secured to a board, his feet positioned above head level. Water’s poured over the hooded captive’s face, simulating drowning, but I prefer the improved method. I lift the plank and submerge the top half of your body in ice-cold water for sixty seconds. You’ll enjoy counting each one. I go on with this until you drown or talk.”

  Spink’s voice trembled. “I will not be of any use if I’m dead.”

  “Yes, you will, because your corpse will warn victim number two we’re not prepared to waste time. Now, once again, who do you work for?”

  “Many companies.”

  “Wrong answer.”

  “Wait, wait,” he begged. “Please don’t close the door.”

  “One chance. The next time my friend here opens it we start the water treatment. Do you understand?”

  “If I tell you, they’ll kill me.”

  Bear had limited options. “Get the hypo. This one’s a waste of space. We can try again tomorrow. Who’s on the list.”

  Spink, breathed rapidly and attempted to shout.

  Bear closed his eyes. Should he try one more time? Finally, he opened them. “You aren’t worth my time, Mr Spink. You’re like street litter: fucking useless.”

  “People will be searching for me,” he croaked.

  “Your body will be dumped where the milkman can find you.” Bear let Spink digest his words.

  “Hypo’s ready.”

  “Thanks.”

  Frightened, and with little strength remaining, Spink attempted to stand.

  “Don’t bother. I can inject you in any position.” He smiled as pure terror flooded Spink’s eyes. Without any compassion, he shoved Spink against the container’s steel wall and pressed a steel-capped boot hard on his chest. Bear leaned over him, squeezing the hypodermic, enough to eject the fluid. “Can’t afford an air bubble,” whispered Bear into his ear. “This is a clean way to die. I understand, from what others tell me, it’s better than water boarding.”

  “Stop. Please stop. I’ll answer your questions.”

  Bear removed his foot. “Again.”

  “Ask your questions?”

  Bear took three steps back. “Who are you working for?”

  “The London Triads.”

  Comparable to a sinner at confession, Spink could not stop talking.

  “Boss’s name and address,” said Bear.

  “George Yee-Ming. He has a house on the river at Richmond. Barn Terrace. Number two hundred and twelve.”

  “How many heavies?”

  “Two in the house and dogs roam the grounds.”

  “Cameras?”

  “Everywhere, monitored by a central control.”

  “Family?”

  “A wife who I’ve never met. His two daughters attend Loretto boarding school. It’s somewhere near Edinburgh.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I pay the fees for George at the beginning of each term.”

  “Now, that wasn’t difficult. Get him a cup of water. One of my men will get you cleaned up and take you home.” With a smile, he left the container and the awful stench.

  A hooded Jame
s cut the ties binding Spink’s hands and feet and helped him drink. Neither said a word.

  James strolled back to the office. “Ten, fifteen minutes, and the two tablets of Rohypnol in the water will take effect.”

  “Zack, get a couple of glasses of the cheap whiskey from Tesco’s down his throat before he passes out, the more the better. Strip him and bag his clothes. I pass a skip on the way home. Let me know when he’s well out of it.”

  Spink collapsed and closed his eyes. He grew more disorientated and numb as the drug-with-alcohol mixture took effect.

  “The Triads won’t be easy,” said James.

  Bear shook his head. “I need to convince George what’s-his-name to back off or we’ll be a constant and expensive pain in his arse. On the other hand, if he can’t be frightened, we walk away.”

  “D’you want me to undertake surveillance?”

  “Do you want to do it? I’ve asked enough of you three.”

  “Bear, we took time off to help. Next week you’re on your own.”

  “Ok. You have my number. Don’t fuck up.”

  “The turkey’s naked and as pissed as a fart,” said Zack.

  “Right, hose him down, and when he’s dripped dry, dress him.” He turned and picked up a bin bag of clothes. “I found this lot at the back of an Oxfam shop, so he’ll stink like a tramp.”

  “I’ll be off,” said James.

  “I’ll let you out,” said Bear.

  On his return, he stopped at the entrance to the container. Spink, fully clothed, sat on the floor with his back against the metal side.

  “Can you understand me?” asked Bear, as he stared into his eyes. Recognition of his surroundings or of someone standing over him had ceased. “Okay, let’s clean this place. Leave nothing. We’ve never been here. You know the drill.”

  The three men, wearing gloves, spent their time cleaning every surface. Fastidious, they ensured no clues remained.

  On completion of a final check Bear nodded. Brian and Bear supported the unconscious Spink, while Zack carried two bin bags and the gas fire.