‘Let me make some calls to London, Mr Hawkins, see what I can do.’ Saxby raised his arms in placation. ‘In the meantime, it would seem prudent for you to source the funds in readiness for the next stage of the negotiations. I can assure you, we have no intention of letting your daughter’s kidnappers walk away with your money. Our goal is to get Hollie back and send these evil men to prison for the rest of their lives.’
Hawkins nodded. ‘Very well. In that case, I’ll pull the money together. But if anything happens to Hollie or my four million pounds—’ He pointed to Saxby and Phillips in turn. ‘—I’ll hold you both personally responsible.’
‘We understand completely,’ said Saxby.
We? thought Phillips. Whatever story Saxby was peddling, she was in no doubt that if this investigation went sideways, the so-called ‘kidnapping and negotiation expert’ would disappear down the rabbit hole he had come from, leaving her to carry the can.
Phillips and the team had to find Hollie quickly. The consequences of not doing so didn’t bear thinking about.
7
The sound of the lock on the heavy metal door being released woke Hollie. She sat upright on the small bed, still under the blanket in her windowless cell. The small space, which smelled of damp, was lit by a free-standing lamp in the corner, alongside a portable gas heater that did very little to warm the room. The door opened and she braced herself, pulling her knees up to her chin under the blanket, and wrapping her arms around them.
The first thing she saw of her captor was the mask. Each of the gang members wore one. The only difference was that each had a different coloured one-inch horizontal strip where the wearer’s nose would be. This gang member’s stripe was white, which matched his codename – White. Hollie had heard them refer to each other as White, Red, Blue and Black, but never by their real names. The gang member who had referred to herself as Blackie at the Halloween party had called it an Army of Two mask, claiming it was from some kind of computer game. Hollie had never seen the game, but stared intently at the mask that covered her captor’s face. She noted it was matte black, reminiscent of a smooth, featureless skull, with large eyeholes covered in a black mesh.
White closed the door behind him before he moved across the room to place a tray of food on the small metal table in the middle of the room. He wore black combat fatigues with matching black gloves and boots. ‘Here’s your breakfast,’ he said, his voice muffled by the mask.
Hollie peered at the plate of bacon and eggs in front of her. ‘I can’t eat dead animal carcasses. I’m a vegan!’
The cold, soulless mask stared back at her in silence. ‘Suit yourself.’ White shrugged, turned his back on her and walked towards the door.
‘You kidnapped the wrong girl, you know,’ Hollie snapped, hoping to get his attention – though quite why, she wasn’t entirely sure.
White turned back to face her again. ‘What did you say?’
Hollie panicked that he might punish her for her outburst. ‘Well, er, I just said…I think you might have kidnapped the wrong girl.’
‘And why would you think that?’
‘He’s not my real dad.’
‘Who isn’t?’ said White.
Hollie had his full attention now, so continued, her confidence growing. ‘Richard Hawkins. He’s not my real dad. My real dad’s dead.’
‘How sad,’ said White, with no emotion at all.
Hollie nodded. ‘Richard is my stepdad. He married my mum when I was five, and adopted me when I was ten.’
‘Fascinating,’ said White, his tone sarcastic.
‘He probably won’t pay the ransom, you know. He loves his money more than me and my mum. More than anything, in fact. I’d be surprised if he’d pay four thousand pounds for me, never mind four million.’
White stared at her for a long moment without saying a word.
Then Hollie’s new-found confidence began to evaporate as White crept towards her, stopping just a few inches from her bed. She reeled backwards against the wall as he leaned forwards. His eyes were partially visible through the mesh-covered eyeholes just inches away from her own. ‘Well, Princess, you’d better hope “stepdaddy” has a change of heart, then, because if not…you’re gonna be pig-feed.’ White squealed like a pig, then chuckled.
Hollie swallowed hard but remained stoic, trying her best not to cry.
White stood upright, then turned and walked towards the door. When he reached it, he banged on it three times, waited a few seconds, then opened it a fraction before turning back to face Hollie. ‘Now eat your breakfast, you little brat!’ he said, before he stepped outside and closed the door behind him with a bang.
‘You’re the bloody pig!’ shouted Hollie to the empty room. Her words echoed around her, then faded away into silence.
She stared at the plate of meat and eggs on the table in front of her, then took long, deep breaths as she tried to control her emotions – just as her therapist had taught her to do in times of stress. She was angry, frustrated and very frightened. A moment later, the tears began to flow, and she fell back down onto the mattress to bury her face in the pillow to drown out her sobs.
All she wanted was her mum.
8
After completing their visit to the Hawkins’s home, Saxby made his excuses and set off for an undisclosed appointment. With Jones driving them back to Ashton House, Phillips was impatient to find out who Harry Saxby really was. She called Bovalino’s mobile on the hands-free unit.
‘Guv. How did it go?’
‘As well as it could, given the circumstances. They’ve given Hawkins a week to find the money, or they said Hollie dies,’ said Phillips.
‘A week? Why a week? I’d have thought they’d want their money sooner.’
‘Yeah, but four million quid? That’s a lot of money to raise. Maybe they’re giving him time to get it together,’ said Phillips.
‘Yeah, maybe. And what about that prick, Saxby? How was he?’
‘As expected, I’m afraid. He acts as if we work for him, and that he knows more about the case than anyone else.’ Phillips looked across at Jonesy and winked. ‘What you might call, a typical “London-wanker”, Bov.’
‘Hey! Not everyone from Laaarndon is a wanker, you know,’ Jones protested, exaggerating his own South London accent.
Phillips grinned. ‘Anyway, Bov, that’s why I’m calling. Did you manage to get any background on Saxby?’
‘Indeed I did, Guv. Let me just go somewhere quiet.’
‘Use my office,’ said Phillips.
Phillips and Jones waited in silence, listening as Bovalino made his way across the incident room to Phillips’s office. The door was closed, then Bovalino returned to the call. ‘Right, Guv. His full name is Henry Bartholomew Saxby. He’s fifty-two and currently a DCI in the Met Police, specialising in kidnapping and negotiation – which he’s been doing for the last five years. He joined the Met ten years ago after serving in the Coldstream Guards for twenty-seven years, rising to the rank of Major.’
‘Major arsehole, more like,’ joked Jones, drawing a chuckle from Phillips.