

The Value of Life

Andy Crowson

Copyright 2005 Andy Crowson

Smashwords Edition 2011

The Value of Life
Chapter 1: K

The rain 'thunked' hollowly on the van roof: it would have made K drowsy if it hadn't been so cold. K had been waiting nearby for an hour now. He wasn't exactly scared as such, but he was nervous and the butterflies in his stomach didn't help.

He poured the last of the coffee from the thermos and sipped it. He had done this so many times in his head, on paper, in his dreams; he knew the whole plan back to front. It was just taking the first step that was hard. Up till this moment it had all been planning, now it was action. The alarm on his mobile phone activated and started vibrating in his hand but he didn't need it, he'd been looking at it. He knew he still had at least ten minutes before the kids made their way across the recreation ground and through the broken fence into Brighton Road. Then only one of the children would cross the street, turn right into Eastbourne Road and let himself into the ninth house in a street of poor quality, semi detached houses, with his own key.

This particular house had a small front garden between the pavement and the door, surrounded by an overgrown hedge and a broken gate that Daniel Reece Martin, the eleven year old son of Michael and Janet Martin, walked through, every school day, at 3:25, coming home to an empty house.

K looked solemnly at the bottle and the soft rag on the seat next to him, drank the last of his coffee and started the van. He put the heater on and let the van warm up, but there was no condensation on the windows as he'd had them both cracked open the entire time he'd been waiting. It was just as K was beginning to get so scared he might back out, that the three kids emerged through the fence into Brighton Road from the rec.

K watched as Daniel crossed the road and left the others. It was only then that he pulled out from the curb and slid from a side street into Brighton road, then right into Eastbourne Road, and pulled up in the empty space outside Number 18. He opened the bottle and soaked the rag with ether, then squeezing the dripping rag into his coat pocket, jumped out and walked round to the sliding door just as the boy approached.

K himself was wearing navy blue trousers, a navy blue polo shirt and a nondescript large navy blue jacket. He could have been a delivery driver for just about anyone. His timing was perfect and as the boy drew level and turned for the gate K spoke, "You live here kid, number 18?"

"Sure, you got somefing for us?" the kid asked excitedly.

"Your mum order a new widescreen telly set up?" K asked, pointing to the huge cardboard box in the back of the van.

"Yeah!" the kid replied, excited just to hope that she might have done.

"She in?" said K. "Or ya Dad, I need a lift?"

The kid looked puzzled and disappointed for a split second,

"Nan got sick and Mum went to look after her this mornin'," the boy lied. "Dad's at work but I got the key, I can let ya in." He looked hopeful.

K looked the kid up and down. He was small and thin, his clothes looked worn and his shoes were scuffed from black to grey at the toes. His black hair was short cropped and K thought it had the shapeless look of home cut hair.

"You look like a strong un, how about you give us a hand to get it out of the van then?" K invited.

The boy dropped his schoolbag just inside the gate and jumped into the van, K climbed in after him, one hand in his pocket. He slid the door shut and grabbed the boy in one swift movement, forcing the cloth over the child's mouth and nose whilst holding him still. It was much easier then K had thought it would be, and even though the kid struggled it was easy to hold him still. K had been worried about how much the van might rock if the boy struggled but he guessed hardly at all. As the seconds passed the boy became more subdued until he hardly moved.

K removed the rag, the boy was not fully unconscious but he was immobile and sedated. K bound the boy's hands with carpet tape and lifted him into the big box, covered him with a blanket and taped the lid shut. There were pillows inside the box, arranged so that the boy would remain sitting up and not choke should he vomit, but otherwise, it was dark and plain.

K stepped out from the side of the van, walked casually around to the driver's door, stepped in and checked his phone on the dash. It was 3:33, the whole thing had taken less than eight minutes and K figured he'd been outside the house for about four of those. He started the van and pulled out, using the act of checking for traffic to look at windows and up and down the street for anyone who might have seen something. There was no one. He turned right into Allcot Street and was gone.

The place K had chosen for the base of this project was an old railway cottage well away from anywhere else and on a disused railway line on the outskirts of the New Forest. He had bought it over a year ago when he had conceived the idea and decided to go ahead. When he had bought it there had been no electric or gas, no real roof to speak of over one half of the house and certainly no mod cons.

Even though he had never been that handy he had done most of the work himself. It'd taken all his free time, but that was not a problem - after all, there was precious little else to occupy him and he'd been thankful for the distraction.

Other than the electric company, a local roofer and a plumber for the gas, no one had been out here but him. He'd bought all the materials at various DIY stores and transported them out here in the van. He'd got pretty good over time and the place had turned out nice, but it was still simple. The model for soundproofing was taken from an internet website on building recording studios in your garage and the security was only meant to stump kids. Locking grates over the windows would not be so uncommon in this remote a place.

He pulled up outside and checked his watch, it was just starting to get dark and the long drive had made him hungry. The boy had come round about a half hour ago and after an initial bout of screaming had turned to crying softly.

K lifted the box out of the van onto a sack barrow and wheeled it into the cottage. He wheeled the box into a small sound proofed room that had once been a large wardrobe. It had no windows and was furnished only with a bed and table. But there was a TV, DVD, games console, a box of various DVDs and games. K had fitted a sink and toilet and put a fridge in the corner. This was, basically, a prison cell. A prison cell with the uniform waiting on the bed, a single set of blue Harry Potter pajamas.

K opened the box and at first the boy wouldn't look up, but when K lifted the boy to his feet he stood shakily and stared straight at him.

"I didn't do nuffin' wrong, please lemme go," he sobbed.

K undid the tape around the boy's arms and although it hadn't been very tight the boy still winced.

"Get washed and changed," K said, "you can watch TV while I fix dinner, I don't know about you but I'm starved." He shut the door behind him and wandered into the kitchen. When he returned to the cell the boy was sat in the pajamas on the bed watching TV. K had a homemade hamburger and chips on a plate. He put them on the bed and sat down.

"You know what kidnapping is?" he asked.

"Yeah," said the boy softly, "it's when you want money to give me back."

"That's right." K smiled. "That's what this is, so I'm gonna look after you, an' if you do as I say and be good, you're gonna be home with your Mum and Dad before you know it." The boy looked hopeful. "One thing though," K carried on, "I'm gonna be away from here for days at a time. It's totally safe here, you can't get out and no one but me can get in. There's plenty to eat and drink so long as you're not greedy and you've got everything you need here." The boy's face was passive for a while then he looked worried.

"It's gonna be OK." K said reassuringly.

"What if you die, in a crash or somefin'?" the boy said eyes widening. "I'll be stuck here."

"Nah you won't." K smiled. "I've got a plan for that haven't I?" K stood and turned to leave.

"Eat up now, I'll be here tonight but tomorrow I'll be gone again, I'll check in again later." He closed the door leaving the boy in the cell alone. When K checked in sometime after nine the kid was asleep on the bed, K switched off the TV and took the remains of dinner out on the tray, the kid had eaten and that was a good sign.

Chapter 2: The Martins

Janet Martin usually got home about six, but today she'd had a particularly fussy customer who though her highlights were not light enough, and had forced Janet to redo them. By the time she got home, tired and wet, it was six thirty five. She opened the front door and stepped into the hall.

"Daniel?" she called as she shook off her coat and hung it on the crowded hooks on the wall. She called again and listened, no TV, no music. Maybe he was sleeping. She wandered into the kitchen, shook the kettle and flicked it on, then went into the living room.

She spent the next ten minutes padding around between the kitchen, the bathroom and living room, calling twice more and checking his bedroom before murmuring something about not playing out and killing him. At five past seven Michael Martin came in through the front door carrying a soaked and dripping school bag in one extended hand.

"Daniel," he called angrily, "you left ya' schoolbag by the gate an' its bloody soaked."

Janet hurried from the living room,

"What?" she said.

"I found 'is schoolbag by the gate," he said, "Look, it's ruined,"

He opened it and pulled out a soaking book. "We can't afford another one." He dropped the soaking bag by the door.

"What?" he said as his wife covered her mouth with her hands.

"He's not in, I thought he was out playing with his mates," she looked again at the bag on the floor, "I'll call Justin's Mum," she said and headed for the phone.

"I'm getting sommin' to eat, I'm starved. I'm sure he'll turn up when he's hungry." Mr Martin said and strode to the kitchen, "You wanna tea?" he called over his shoulder.

After several phone calls Janet entered the kitchen where her husband was sat at the cramped table with a loaf of bread, the margarine and an open packet of ham, his cup of tea half way to his mouth as he looked up.

"Nobody's seen him and Justin says he left Dan up at the Rec like always. Something's happened to 'im Michael I know it," she said. Michael lowered his cup an inch.

"Nah, he's got some new mate you don't know about and he don't want you to know about 'cause he's a skally and they're off somewhere right now lightin' fires or somethin' stupid," he said dismissively.

"I'm serious Michael, he left his bag, it's raining," she looked shaken.

"It's nothing Jan, he's just up to no good, we'll get a call he's been shopliftin' or summin. Kids don't feel the rain, if he ain't back by nine I go lookin'. He'll be hanging on some street corner somewhere." He lifted the cup, took a gulp, set it down and went about making his sandwich. Janet looked at him for several seconds before her shoulders tightened.

"Fine, you just sit there and eat your stupid sandwich and I'll go look for him," she shouted. Michael threw the half made sandwich on the table.

"For God's sake woman he's eleven not five, and it's not even half seven! Give it till eight and if he 'aint in I'll go look myself, that do ya?" he yelled back.

Janet stared at him a moment longer before she strode from the room. He picked up his sandwich and took a bite, he had barely tasted it before he spat the lump out onto the plate,

"Ham's fuckin' off," he said angrily and strode out of the kitchen towards the door.

"You win," he yelled. "I'll go look for him an' I'll get sommin' to eat while I'm out." He waited in silence in the hallway a few seconds before yelling, "You're welcome," into the silence and reached for his coat.

By half past nine the search had covered the entire local area and Mr. Martin himself was starting to worry. They called the police at nine and reported Daniel missing but no one was taking things very seriously at the moment, or at least it seemed. Mr. Martin was still out looking and Janet was home pacing the floor when the call came, she snatched up the phone,

"Michael, have you found him?" she asked urgently. The answer was slow in coming.

"No, and he won't. I just rang to tell you that I have Daniel and he is safe ... For now. You will be contacted."

The line went dead. Mrs. Martin dropped the phone and fell to her knees and cried. It was a full ten minutes before she was able to phone her husband or the police.

Chapter 3: Josef Lindahl

Josef cursed at the phone and ruffled through the cushions for the remote control to the TV, he found it and hit mute just before accepting the call on his mobile. He didn't recognize the caller's number but it was from another mobile.

"Josef Lindahl," he said politely.

"Josef? It's Peter Bentworth." Josef was instantly alert, "We've come up against a situation here and to be frank it's not one we're used to, I need you to come in."

Josef was taken aback, although he knew the Chief Detective Inspector of his division it was only in passing and a face at meetings; they were certainly not on first name terms. Josef had only been a policeman six months and although he had been taken on as Detective Constable, due mostly to a degree in Criminal Psychology, he had yet to do anything that proved he was worth his rank as detective.

"No probs," he said, "Can you tell me the nature of the problem?"

"It looks as though a child has been kidnapped," Bentworth said flatly, taking Josef completely by surprise. He'd pictured himself in riot gear stamping on a petrol bomb or something.

"What can I do? I mean, why me?" he stuttered.

"You're the nearest person with any kind of psychological training, and, it seems, the only one," He let the idea absorb for a second. "So," he continued, "Quick as you can, meet us at the CID interview rooms upstairs."

Josef barely had chance to agree before he was cut off.

Within ten minutes he was in his Clio heading towards Longmarsh police station, his mind was racing with both excitement and fear. When he pulled into the car park it had been barely twenty minutes since the call. He swiped his card in the back door card reader and headed straight upstairs to the CID interview rooms. Peter Bentworth was waiting in the corridor.

Bentworth was surprised by Josef's appearance. He'd expected a geeky looking thimble in a suit. Instead he saw a young man, not conventionally handsome, but rugged looking, with short-cropped black hair and broad shoulders. He wore a casual suit with a tie.

"Ah, there you are. Step in here while I brief you," he said, indicating a door to a small office on their right.

Inside Josef was given the brief timeline and series of events, just as the parents had given the department, but the CDI explained, even though he himself would conduct the interviews, a thorough questioning had been put off until Josef arrived.

Josef left the room with more questions than answers but he kept silent and followed the CDI into the first interview room, a female PC was sat close to a woman.

"This is Mrs. Janet Martin, the child's mother," Bentworth said diplomatically, "Mrs. Martin, this is Detective Constable Josef Lindahl our psychological expert."

Josef tried hard not to look surprised and hoped it worked. He offered his hand and a gentle smile. When she took it her grip was momentary and soft.

Josef sat down at the table and although the interview room had its own recording system he took out his own compact digital dictaphone and set it on the table with a notepad and pen.

"I hope you don't mind this?" he said softly, "I'm always surprised how much detail I forget without it,"

She shook her head but didn't make eye contact with him.

"Besides," he continued, "It saves the rainforests." Josef pressed the record button. Bentworth took that as a cue and did likewise on the main recording system, identifying those present, the time and the date.

"Please Mrs. Martin," Bentworth began, "Can you tell us everything you remember." She looked around for the first time and seemed puzzled by her surroundings.

"Where's my husband, I want him here, why are you recording everything?" she seemed agitated and when the pause lasted more than half a second Josef leaned a little closer.

"Please Mrs. Martin," he said softly, "Everybody's memory is a little different. Your perspective will be different from your husband's. You notice different things and place importance on different signs. You each know your son a little differently and it's very important we hear your individual account and interpretation without it being influenced by the other. That way we have every possible detail that might help us."

He gave that a minute to sink in and when she seemed to settle at this he continued, "I'm sorry if this seems a bit formal but we have a system for collecting the information and keeping it together and this is it, please try not to worry about anything. We need your whole mind focused on what you recall." He smiled the soft smile it had taken so long to master as a psychology student and she seemed to accept his words and relax. Josef sat up again, and as if on cue Bentworth took up where he left off.

"Please," he said, "tell us everything you recall from this evening, take your time and think of all the details you can." Josef listened intently and when Mrs. Martin had finished her account he knew all the important facts, the boy's habits, who had seen the boy last, where, at what time that was and everything that had happened after the boy's absence had been discovered. Josef had made several mental notes and had jotted down some questions.

"Is there anything else you can think of?" Bentworth asked. Mrs. Martin shook her head and continued to look at the table, so he continued. "Well I have only one more question, you said the voice sounded like a white male, did he have any accent you could recognize?"

Mrs. Martin seemed to think about this for a second. "No he didn't," she said.

Bentworth looked at Josef, noted the scribbles on his pad, and turned to Mrs. Martin.

"I think the officer here has some questions for you," he looked at Josef. "Officer Lindahl," he said and waited.

Josef leaned a little closer again.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Martin," he began, "some of the questions I have are not easy and although you may find it hard to answer some and you may not want to answer others it would really help if you could try." He looked at the woman and waited, she hadn't spoken directly to Bentworth or himself but he wanted eye contact now and he was waiting to get it, after several seconds she looked up and nodded,

"I'll try," she said quietly.

"Thanks," he replied genuinely and looked at his notes. "First, the bag. Close your eyes and remember your journey home, remember as you came through the gate, what were you doing? Were you looking in your bag for keys or putting down your umbrella, were you looking anywhere near the ground? It's very important. Could you have missed the bag by the gate where your husband said it was?" He hoped she would not react to what the question might imply but she seemed completely wrapped in the memory, she opened her eyes and for the first time looked directly at him.

"It was raining, I didn't have an umbrella and I had my keys in my hand and my hands in my pockets. I went straight for the door. I didn't really look. I didn't see anyone in the street or around, I can't say if the bag was there or not."

"OK, do we have the bag? Has anyone but you and your husband touched it?"

She looked distracted, then said, "It's in the hall where Michael left it, I didn't touch it"

"Good," Josef continued, "we'll need to check it. Now I have a question about the call, close your eyes and concentrate on the call. You told us that the caller had no accent, it's very important you think carefully about the voice, tell us exactly, one more time what the caller said and how he sounded."

Again she closed her eyes and seemed to concentrate on the question.

"I picked up the phone and I said, 'Michael, have you found him?' and there was a two or three second pause and he said 'No, and he won't. I just rang to tell you that I have Daniel and he is safe ... for now. You will be contacted' then he hung up."

Her eyes remained closed. "He sounded white, older, I think maybe over thirty but it's hard to say and he didn't really have an accent."

"And those were his exact words?" Josef asked. "He definitely said 'and he is safe' not 'he's safe' not 'I've got him', he's well spoken?"

"Yeah, well spoken, that's right." Her eyes opened and she looked at him again.

"And you're sure that he sounded natural, not as though he was faking it, hiding something?"

She closed her eyes again and seemed completely focused.

"Yeah, I'd say that's right."

"I've got just one more question Mrs. Martin," Josef relaxed and let his shoulders droop slightly. Mrs. Martin subconsciously took the visual cue and relaxed herself. "Have you upset anyone recently? Made any enemies? Have you seen anyone around? This person obviously knew your habits. In short, do you have even the slightest idea who might have taken your son?"

"I've been asking myself the same question for the last hour and a half and you know what?" she said flatly, "I can't think of a single thing. I wish I could, but I can't."

Josef sat upright again and again Bentworth took the cue.

"Well thank you very much for your help," he said, "It'll take some time to talk with your husband, if you like the young lady here can accompany you to the canteen and get you something to eat and a cup of tea." She nodded and stood, Josef stood and offered a hand.

"Thank you Mrs. Martin," he said. "You've been much more help than you realize." She took his hand, this time more firmly and made eye contact.

"Thanks, I hope so," she said.

Josef let go and took a card from his wallet. He'd never actually used them, he'd only had them made during the initial excitement of getting DC rank and he tried not to look embarrassed now.

"If you remember anything, anything at all call me right away, OK?" she took the card without looking at, put it in her pocket and left. Josef snapped the Dictaphone off.

When they were alone Josef sat again and looked at his notes.

"Well?" Bentworth asked, "What do you think? Could she be a suspect?" Josef turned to face him.

"I don't think so, there's things in what she said that are difficult to make up." Bentworth raised his eyebrows in question. "For example," Josef continued in reply, "she said the man on the phone had no accent but was pretty well spoken. If you're gonna make up a call you generally make up an accent. The thing about criminal lies is that they tend to serve a purpose. They tend to be helpful, but helpful in the wrong direction. She didn't show any tell tale signs of lying."

"Then what did we learn?" Bentworth asked.

"Well, the call," Josef said. "Like I said, if you're gonna make an anonymous call you tend to disguise your voice, an' it's much easier to disguise your voice with an accent than to remove all signs of one. It's also really hard to fake being well spoken, people who aren't tend to make a mess of it. I think the kidnapper called and didn't try to hide his real voice and that can mean several things." He stopped and gave the CDI chance to absorb this.

"Go on," Bentworth said.

"The way I see it, it could mean that, first, and most likely, and best case scenario, he's not gonna call again so he doesn't care and doesn't think she'll remember much. He has another method to contact the family again. You know, he said 'you will be contacted', not 'I'll call again' or something like that." Bentworth nodded.

"The second and slightly not so good case scenario is that he doesn't care and doesn't think he can be caught. He might call again if he needs to and maybe he'll disguise his voice then but for now he's not worried. Third and worst, he has no intention of ever making contact again and just wanted, for his sick ego, to have the last word." He let this sink in and Bentworth looked at the floor.

"And the bag?" Bentworth asked. "You learn something interesting from that?"

"Well it was a leading question. She didn't take it as an insinuation which means she didn't feel accused herself, or suspect the husband, and that's good. She couldn't remember whether noticing whether it was there or not. She gave an accurate account of her memory and we can use that to test her if her story gets shaky but I was interested whether she had a subconscious feeling that the husband was involved in some way. But there was no sign she felt the husband might have lied about the bag either," he looked at the CDI, "I think she's on the level," he concluded. Bentworth nodded.

"The husband then," he said. He stood and made for the door. Josef collected his notes and dictaphone, switched off the main interview room tape recorder, removed the tape and followed the CDI who had already left the room.

He caught up with Bentworth in an interview room two doors down where Mr. Martin was sitting with a uniformed PC. He looked agitated.

"What's goin' on?" he demanded. "I've been here over an hour an' I 'ain't been told nuffin'. Where's Janet and why're you keeping us apart, we're victims you know." He was almost yelling, "why 'ain't you out there looking for Daniel instead of keeping us here for hours and treatin' us like criminals."

Josef placed his things on the table and looked directly at Mr. Martin, his face blank. It was Bentworth who spoke.

"Mr. Martin I'm sorry you've been waiting, but as we explained to your wife, it's important we take your two accounts of tonight separately. You both saw things differently and it's better we get two accounts than one, there's more details."

Mr. Martin still looked agitated but he seemed to accept it. Josef slipped the tape in the interview room recorder and switched it on along with his own digital recorder. Bentworth called time date and attendance for the tape then said "Please Mr. Martin, tell us everything you remember about tonight from the time you got home, take your time and try to remember every little detail."

When Mr. Martin finished he looked agitated again. Bentworth looked directly at Josef this time.

"Mr. Martin," Josef ventured. "Close your eyes and picture yourself coming home from work and walking up to the gate. Maybe you're getting your keys ready or something. How did you see the bag? Where was it exactly?"

Mr. Martin didn't close his eyes but stared at the table. He was silent for a minute.

"I had my keys in my hand 'cause I'd just locked the van. I was going into the garden an' I saw it on the ground, just behind the gatepost." He stopped there and when Josef realized he wasn't going to continue he said, "Was it in the open, where anyone could see it, or was it hidden like behind a bin or something?"

Mr. Martin though for a second,

"It weren't really hidden but it weren't obvious either, it was just behind the post, a little bit under the 'edge."

"Mr. Martin," Josef said calmly, "your wife said she didn't see the bag when she got home, do you think she could have missed it or do you think it might not have been there when she got home." He seemed to consider the question seriously.

"She would ha' took it in if she'd seen it that's for sure, I mean, she could 'a missed it easily enough. Like I said it weren't obvious but I can't say if it were there or not, I mean, can I?"

"OK," Josef nodded. "You said you left the house about half past seven, can you remember exactly where you went looking for your son?"

"I drove round everywhere but I guess you want sommin' specific. Well I was starvin' so I drove through the McDonalds on the High Road, and I stopped for petrol at the Shell on Preston Road, that what you want?" he snapped. Josef smiled and nodded.

"Please don't be offended," he said. "These are tough questions I know but it really helps, you and your wife have both been great. She's in the canteen now getting something to eat and a cuppa. I've got just one more question then if it's OK with the CDI here you can go join her." Josef looked at Bentworth, as did Martin. He nodded.

"Think carefully about the last week, especially the last couple of days, have you noticed anything, anything at all, anyone hanging round, any cars or vans? Or anything that your son might have said or done that even in the least bit unusual?" Mr. Martin sat staring at the table for some time.

"No," he said at length. "Daniel had a fight with a boy at school about two weeks ago but they're friends again now and anyway Daniel lost. He's not much of a fighter." Josef allowed a moment's silence.

"Thank you very much Mr. Martin, like I said, you've been very helpful." Josef offered him a card, when he didn't take it Josef laid it on the table, "If you think of anything, anything at all, please call me right away." Josef sat back and Bentworth spoke again.

"I've no more questions just now Mr. Martin, please help yourself to whatever you'd like from the canteen while we wrap up here and I'll arrange a lift home for the both of you, and thanks again, you've been very helpful."

Martin left the room accompanied by the PC and Josef was alone with Bentworth again.

"Well, what's your take on Mr. Martin then?" he asked.

"Same deal as Mrs. Martin really," Josef said. "He didn't react to being quizzed about the bag or if Mrs. Martin could have missed it. And his anger was directed at us wasting time not looking for the boy rather than his being questioned. The two places where his driving round can be confirmed make sense, he said he was just about to eat when he went out so McDonalds is natural, as is the petrol IF we check how much he bought and what time, and how much is in the tank of the van now and it works out. If that checks out then I don't have a problem with him either. I think they're on the level."

Josef gathered his belongings, switched off the Dictaphone and the tape recorder, removed the tape and looked at his notes, conscious that Bentworth was watching him.

"So?" Bentworth said, "conclusions?" Josef looked up.

"Well. I want to be the one to drive them home and I want to check the van and the house and the scene," he paused and when no objection came he continued. "If everything checks out well, then, best case I think we have a genuine kidnapping, worst case an abduction. Either way we need to set up for kidnapping, phone trace, surveillance. I don't know what the usual is but it'll take a lot of door knockers and some tekkies too." He half expected a stream of protest at this but none came, instead Bentworth looked at the floor but his mind was elsewhere. Josef waited patiently and after a minute Bentworth said.

"OK, take them home and check out the van and the scene. I'll arrange surveillance for tonight, it's a bit of an over reaction but it's better err to caution. I'll try and get the phone tap authorized but we'll need cooperation from the family. You get that if you can. It'd be best to have someone in the house with them round the clock if they'll agree. After that go home and get some sleep, if this really is kidnapping we're going to have a busy day tomorrow, and I want you here fully charged OK?"

"Sure," Josef said, feeling for the first time in a long time, awake, alert, challenged and useful.

"Call me if you have any trouble, otherwise brief me in the morning," Bentworth said. Josef collected his things from the table, looked at Bentworth and smiled.

"He took it," Josef said. Bentworth wrinkled his brow in question. "My card, he took it," Josef flicked his head toward the table. Bentworth shrugged.

"All my life I've been able to tell if a man's lying to me," he said. "A good skill for a copper. The problem is I've never been able to tell why," at that he stood and made to leave.

"Good work tonight Detective," he finished and was gone.

Josef stood a moment in the warmth of that praise, kicked his brain into gear and headed to the canteen.

Chapter 4: The Scene

Josef and both Mr. and Mrs. Martin walked in total silence through the car park to Josef's Clio. It was a tight squeeze but the couple sat together in the back leaving the passenger front seat empty. Josef had chosen his own car ,even though it was small, for a number of reasons, this was just one. The silence lasted about half of the ten minute journey.

"Do you really think Daniel's been kidnapped?" Mrs. Martin asked.

"It's hard to say," Josef replied. "We'll have to wait."

"Come on," Mr. Martin snapped. "You're the shrink, just be straight wiv' us." Josef wasn't sure exactly what Mr. Martin was getting at but he could see that they needed information right now if not support, and giving it might just get the co-operation he needed.

"OK," he said, "This is exactly the way I see it. If the phone call is fake, he's run away, maybe with the help of an adult, maybe not. If it's genuine, he's been kidnapped or abducted by persons unknown and, with your co-operation, we will do everything we can to get him back." They sat silently again for several minutes.

"What do you mean fake?" Mr. Martin said at last.

"I mean fake like a tape recording or an MP3, or an adult helped."

"So how the hell will we know?" Martin asked.

"We'll wait," Josef said flatly. They finished the journey in silence and when they pulled into Eastbourne Road there was only one parking place half way down the packed street. They walked to the front door where Mrs. Martin let them in. Josef entered last and followed them into the kitchen.

"Will you have a tea detective?" she asked, "Mike, you want one too?"

"I'd love one thanks," Josef answered and sat at the table where the uneaten sandwich and cold tea were displayed like an exhibit. Mr. Martin sat down opposite Josef and looked at his wife's back as she fussed with the kettle and cups.

"Me too thanks," he said flatly. Just then he looked extremely tired.

Josef noted the open bread packet and margarine on the table,

"Sorry about the mess," Mrs. Martin remarked, standing over him. He looked up.

"Mike was just eating when we realized Daniel was missing, he went to look for him." She trailed off.

"Listen," Josef said, his face flushing, "Can I look at the bag while you make tea?"

"I'll get it," she said and made to move but Josef stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"Please Mrs. Martin," he said softly. "The fewer people that touch the bag the better, and up till now only Daniel and your husband have done that." She nodded and pointed,

"In the toilet."

In the toilet Josef pulled a pair of latex gloves from his pocket and removed the bag from the sink. It was a normal type Nike backpack. It might have been waterproof once but it was old now, and it was open and soaked. He pulled open the top of the bag and made a mental inventory, pencil case, books, baseball cap, broken ruler, tennis ball and a lot of wrinkled folded up bits of paper. Just about what he remembered a school bag should have in it, except the pencil shavings. He didn't empty the bag but put it back in the sink and took off the gloves and put them in his pocket again. When he returned to the kitchen he was handed a cup of tea.

"Thanks," he said and took a sip. "I'll need to take the bag just in case, we can put it in a bin liner if you have one, and I wonder if it might be possible to have a look around. Maybe in Daniel's room and in the garden before anything gets disturbed." Mrs. Martin looked at her husband, who nodded.

"OK," he said, "looks like you're taking it seriously anyway." He looked down at his tea. "We were told that without the phone call it would have been days before he was considered missing." Mr. Martin said nothing for a minute, considering that possibility. "They made us feel like they thought we made it up to get attention. I'm sorry for being so angry before it just, well." He trailed off there and shrugged.

Josef took another sip of tea and allowed the silence to fill the couple's minds with whatever thoughts it might. When nothing seemed to surface he said, "I'll take that look around then, in the mean time can you find me a picture of Daniel, a good face shot?"

He left them silent in the kitchen. With his tea in hand he went first and stood with his back to the front door. There were a large number of coats bulging erratically from the hooks on the right, these would be behind the front door when it opened, but none had fallen and the mat inside the door was straight. There ware no signs of any struggle. A single pair of mud caked wellies that obviously belonged to Mr. Martin were behind the door and still upright. He looked up the stairs in front of him. They turned ninety degrees to the left. Josef headed towards them. First door on the left he knew was the toilet, the hall widened, second on the left the living room, it was open, and next to the stairs, facing him, the kitchen door.

He entered the living room. It was fairly large for a house this size and was neat and tidy and nicely decorated with embossed wallpaper and grey leather sofa and two matching chairs. There were all the usual modern gadgets but nothing extremely expensive that spoke of wealth. The window to the street had net curtains so seeing in would be impossible even though the pavement was close. There was a cordless phone on the table and half a cup of tea, a paper that was two days old and a bowl with the remnants of cornflakes in. He wandered around the room looking at pictures, books, ornaments, games, music, just about everything. When he left the living room he took the phone into the kitchen,

"Have you had any calls coming into the house after the call about Daniel?" he asked offering the phone to Mrs. Martin.

"I tried last caller about ten minutes after he called, but there wasn't a number," she said. "I called the police and Mike and my Mum, I don't think anyone's called here."

"Can you just try it?" Josef asked. "He might have called again or left a message."

She checked but there was nothing, so Josef made his way upstairs. The first door on the landing was the upstairs bathroom, a brief look in here indicated nothing. The next door was Daniel's room. In here he spent quite a long time checking the shelves and the books and the toys. There was nothing in here that indicated anything suspicious. Although his search was not thorough he was interested in several things in particular, none of which were apparent here. He made a quick glance into the last room, the parents' room. It was in here he found one of the things he was looking for. On one side of the bedroom was a cramped desk with a newish looking computer, a printer and bunch of other office mess crowding it. He went back downstairs.

In the kitchen Mr. and Mrs. Martin were still sitting in silence. Josef sat down and removed his notebook from his jacket and started writing. After several minutes he said,

"Mrs. Martin, did Daniel use the computer in your bedroom?"

"Yeah he did, but he didn't do chat rooms or anything like that, he just played games on it, he didn't even do his homework on it." She looked worried.

"Do you have the internet?" he asked. She nodded. "I'll need to take the computer then and get it checked professionally; lots of pedophiles use the Internet to attract victims. I'm sorry," he added seeing her distress, "but we can't rule anything out."

Mr. Martin stretched out a hand to his wife but she didn't notice. The doorbell rang and everyone almost jumped in the silence. Josef stood.

"I'll get it," he said, "it's probably just the surveillance team." When Josef opened the door there were two policemen and one policewoman standing outside. They introduced themselves and Josef brought them in. In the kitchen he introduced them to the Martins.

"I would be really grateful if you would let these officers stay here until we know what's happening," he said. "They know what they're doing and they can help you. PC Whitlock here is also a crisis councilor," he indicated the female PC. "They're the best we have." It was true that Bentworth had picked well, and as such was taking the situation seriously.

"All three," Mr. Martin said, "We don't have enough room."

"I know it'll be crowded," Josef soothed, "but, I've checked pretty much everywhere obvious except outside, and Daniel's key isn't in the house. I'm starting to think he never made it past the gate and that means the key is with Daniel." Mr. Martin stood. He wasn't a small man and for the first time this evening Josef felt the weight of his presence.

"What you mean is whoever has Daniel has the key, well I'd just fuckin' love 'im to come wanderin' in here 'cause I'd break his fuckin' neck and I these two won't stop me," he fumed, gesturing at the two, quite large, PCs.

"If he wanders in here Mr. Martin I'm sure these two will gladly hold him while you hit him until your hands get tired then they'll want a turn," Josef said, the bigger of the two PCs smiled.

"Too right," he muttered.

"They're not here just because of the key. There might be newspapers and neighbors and God knows who else and believe me, nothing makes people vanish like an angry copper and besides, ten eyes are better than four." At this Martin sat down and looked again at the officers.

"Well it'll be the sofa and the floor. We got some pillows and blankets but it 'aint gonna be comfortable."

Josef spent the next half hour making sure the officers knew exactly what he wanted them to do and when he finally stepped outside it was half past one. He walked to the Clio, opened the boot, put the computer in and removed a torch. He walked back up to the garden and fished Mr. Martin's keys from his pocket.

He had lifted them from the kitchen counter top and decided he'd just say he wanted to see how long it took to open the front door if he was caught. The van was parked directly in front of the house and Josef opened the driver's door, got in and shut it quietly. He turned the ignition on and waited. He made a note of the mileage and checked the glove compartment. Inside was a small book with an elastic band round it, a fuel record with, mileage, liters, date and time. He made a note of the last five entries, checked the fuel gauge and turned the ignition off.

Josef exited the van quietly and looked round it. It was a plain white escort van with DS Security sign written on the side. There was nothing else about it that was unusual at all. He quietly opened the rear doors and checked thoroughly through the entire load space with the torch. It was full of dog hairs, dark, short and coarse, maybe Rottweiler or Doberman, but nothing else.

Josef locked the van again and walked both behind the van to the gate and in front of it, from the angle to the gate as he rounded the front of the van he could see how Mr. Martin might have seen the bag a walker would miss. Josef used the torch and inspected the ground as thoroughly as he could. There was nothing to suggest anything untoward had happened here.

Josef inspected the inside of the hedge. If someone had been hiding there waiting for the boy he might have left a remnant in the hedge, a hair or something, but Josef found nothing. The whole inspection of the garden, the hedge and the van had given him nothing. The boy had the key, the garden was undisturbed and the bag was here, just inside the gate, which means, probably, the boy made it to the gate but no further. Daniel didn't have time to get his keys out, he was either distracted or abducted right there in front of the house.

Josef walked up to the front door and looked at the locks. It wasn't a particularly new front door and it had two locks, one yale one mortice. He took Mr. Martins keys but there was no mortice key on the ring. Josef opened the front door quietly on the second attempt and looked at the mortice lock, it was old and probably didn't work. Josef knocked gently on the toilet door and PC Whitlock emerged. He handed her the keys and left as quietly as he'd come in.

Back in the street Josef walked left to the corner of Brighton road and then to a gap in the fence where the boys cut through the recreation ground every day. He looked around, up and down the street at houses and windows, and then started to walk back towards the Martin's. He crossed the road and imagined Daniel Martin and his friends shouting things at each other across the street before going their separate ways home. He looked down Eastbourne Road, it was barely 100 meters before the Martin's house, no side streets, no alleys, nothing. Josef walked past the Martin's one more time then back to his car. He drove round the surrounding streets for twenty minutes just thinking and looking, then once more past the Martin's just to check. As he drove past he saw the curtains in the upstairs bathroom twitch just the tiniest bit. Josef smiled as he turned the heat up a notch in the Clio and went home. By the time he was in his bed it was after three am but he was sure he could manage for one night on a few hours and after pushing all the events and thoughts of this evening from his mind he was able to relax enough to fall asleep.

Chapter 5: Ransom

K sat in front of the old typewriter. He'd bought it in a second hand shop on the coast and although it wasn't antique, it was old. He'd tried to ink the ribbon with a printer cartridge ink refill, as he didn't want to ask around for the real thing, but it had dried out too quick and in the end he'd bought artists drawing and painting ink which seemed to work if you brushed it on and used it quickly.

Being a criminal genius is a lot harder than he'd thought and although he was sure he was making far too many slip ups, it was reassuring to think the ink would confuse the shit out of the police, and anyway, he only planned to use it twice. He hand wrote the note first and checked it for errors and content, it just about covered everything he wanted it to. K slipped on a pair of latex gloves from a box he'd bought in a car spares shop and opened the fresh ream of paper that was next to the typewriter. He removed a single sheet and rolled it into the typewriter, moved it up a few lines with the lever and began copying from his hand written note. When he'd finished he removed the note carefully.

Artist's ink takes longer to dry so he laid it in a clean plastic tray while he removed a new envelope from a pack, rolled this into the typewriter and typed the Martins' name and address on the front, he removed this and left it resting on the paper stand on the back of the typewriter while it dried. After ten minutes he folded the note, slipped it into the envelope, pulled the plastic strip from the glue and sealed it shut. Finally he pulled a self-adhesive stamp from a fresh pack and stuck that on the front. He put the letter in a freezer bag, and put that in the plastic tray. He wasn't so familiar with police forensic techniques but he was a believer in science and was sure that, no matter how careful he'd been, he'd left some sort of evidence. However, he was hoping he'd at least thought of everything obvious and made no silly mistakes: being caught was something he could really do without right now, thank you very much!

K unfolded a large sheet of plastic - the kind painters use to cover furniture - and threw it over the desk and everything on it, then went to bed. He lay for a long time in the darkness thinking about what had begun, what the police would be doing now, what the parents would be feeling. It was a long time before he fell asleep.

When K awoke it was to the sound of the alarm next to his bed, and although it was only four am he wanted to be up early enough to catch the first collection from outside the sorting office on Vicarage Lane. That was the only real way to ensure the ransom note made it to the house today. He was up and dressed in five minutes, appearance being the least of his concerns right now.

He looked in on the boy who was sleeping soundly. K wrote a short note and left it for the boy, just to remind him of the basics and reassure him that everything was OK. K filled yesterday's thermos with coffee, grabbed the freezer bag from under the plastic sheet and left. He walked once round the old cottage, checking off everything in his mind before jumping into the van and driving away.

He'd never made the drive at this time of day and although the roads were deserted he didn't save as much time as he'd planned and only just made it to the Vicarage Lane sorting office by a quarter past six, the thermos empty. He slid the ransom note directly from the freezer bag into the post box outside the sorting office, walked straight back to the van, jumped in and was gone. From there K drove three miles to his home. As he approached he flicked the remote for his garage door and when it was open pulled the van in next to the Jaguar, the doors closing quietly behind him.

The van was the only weakness K had to accept, not that it was registered to him. It had been bought for cash and had never been transferred to his name. If he ever got stopped in it he planned to use the name of the last owner and not worry. The previous owner had been not very bright, and extremely happy when K had paid the very high asking price without question He had taken all the paperwork to 'fill in later as he was in a hurry to move house and needed the van right away'.

He could be in absolutely no way connected to the van, except it was in his garage of course, but K figured it was safer and less conspicuous there than in a lock up somewhere. He was very well respected by his neighbors. Most of them knew he'd bought a retreat somewhere and was fixing it up but none had any real idea where it was. And who the hell bats an eyelid at a white Ford Transit anyway?

K made fresh coffee in his kitchen and although he thought there was not much chance he would be able to get back to sleep after his drive, he needed more. He was on holiday for the next six weeks. After that he'd have to go back to work, but he figured he could have the whole thing tied up before then. K turned on TV and watched morning television between dozing, finally sleeping soundly around nine.

Chapter 6: The Note

Josef's alarm woke him at seven, he was so sleepy he bumped into the wall and the bathroom door before the cold of the shower dragged him screaming to consciousness, too late in remembering how long the shower takes to warm up. As the hot water found the pipes Josef relaxed and let the spray bounce off his neck and shoulders, the previous evening flooding back.

Refreshed from the shower he dressed and drank three cups of coffee, ate some toast and headed out around eight. He made a stop at the Martins' to check on the night's events, collected a piece of paper, a photo of the boy and the schoolbag from PC Whitlock and was in the CID meeting room at a quarter to nine.

With a fresh coffee and a chocolate finger biscuit from the vending machine in the corridor, he sat waiting for the others. He unfolded the paper the PC had given him and looked at it. There were three registration numbers on it, well, two and a half, the first was his own at two twenty five, the second said three twenty and had 'circled twice probably looking for parking', noted in brackets. The third was just half a registration number N 23, ten past six, with the note 'white van number plate light broken' in brackets. Josef discounted the van, workmen get up early and collect mates and co-workers, and besides he only had half a registration number. The car however was of interest and the time was right.

A short call to the traffic desk assured Josef that the car belonged to a gentleman who lived two streets away from the Martins' and as Josef put the phone down the first of the CID team came in.

"You here for the briefin'?" he smiled, "must be somefin' juicy, I've been told to drop an assault case an' two criminal damage cases to be 'ere. You know what's going on?"

Josef nodded, "Well, I suppose you gonna know in a minute anyway, but looks like a kid's been abducted, maybe kidnapped. That's all we really know right now." The officer looked surprised.

"Looks like?" he frowned.

"It's what we need to find out really," Josef replied. The officer relaxed and pulled out a seat opposite Josef.

"DS Ward," he smiled offering a hand, Josef took it.

"DC Lindahl," he smiled back, "Josef."

"Dave," Ward added.

At that moment CDI Bentworth came in followed by two other plain-clothes officers Josef recognized from round about but had no idea of their names or ranks. He sat at the head of the meeting table, the white board behind him looking totally at home. The other men sat next to him and he looked at his watch,

"We've got another five minutes yet and we're not all here so grab yourselves a coffee if you like," he said to the room in general. Everyone left the room except Josef and a tall blond man who had sat to Bentworth's right. He said nothing so Josef studied his notes. He hadn't had a chance to go over his recordings of the Martins' interviews but he was confident he didn't need to.

He'd made notes on the house, the garden, the street and the bag. In his visit to the Martins' he'd confirmed the mortise lock didn't work and that nobody had been spotted hanging around the scene since last night. The schoolbag and computer were on the floor beside him. His thoughts were broken by Bentworth's return and the others filed in after him. There were very few Josef recognized and none he knew, all seven in the room seemed to be ranking officers. When everyone was seated Bentworth spoke.

"I've called this meeting because it seems we might have a problem case," he said. "I feel its best at this stage to let DC Lindahl explain everything to you as I haven't yet had a full briefing myself and things have happened quite quickly since last night." Bentworth nodded towards Josef, "This is DC Lindahl and on my request he has been brought in to help with this, Josef, can you fill us in on everything up till now?"

Josef stood and went to the whiteboard, he drew a little map and named the streets the school and the recreation ground, then he wrote a list of names and some key words like keys, garden, bag. He wasn't at all sure what to do. He had never done anything like this before, but he supposed he just needed to make everything they knew clear, and he couldn't think of a better way to do it. When he finished he turned to face everyone, he was more nervous than he realized but when he started to speak he forgot his nerves and was soon caught in the case.

Whilst explaining he emptied the schoolbag carefully on the table, underlined names, key words etc. When Josef finished there was silence in the room. Bentworth spoke first.

"Excellent Josef, thank you," he waited while Josef seated himself again. "Now before we throw this around can anyone think of anything obvious we missed," there was silence, so Bentworth said "well, in that case let's hear the questions first." The blond man to Bentworth's right spoke first.

"DI Mason," he said matter-of-factly. "Did the mileage and petrol consumption for Martin's van work out?"

"Close enough," Josef said. "According to the mileage and the records in the book it's about right but we'll have to see how much Martin bought that night, but my guess is it'll work out, he should have bought about forty liters to fill up."

"OK," Mason said, seeming to accept Josef's guess. "From your description the boy was taken between the end of the street and the front gate, that implies a vehicle parked somewhere along that road," he looked around the room to make sure everyone was listening. "'Ain't easy parking in those streets, they're always busy."

Just as Josef was about to answer a mobile phone rang somewhere to his right, Bentworth excused himself and left the room, Josef let the question hang waiting for Bentworth's return, but Mason nodded.

"Well, how did he make sure he had parking?" he didn't actually sneer and he had a valid point but Josef had thought about this himself. He studied the man. Mason was in his mid forties, with medium length blond hair parted on the left. His accent and manner spoke of a classical education and reminded Josef vaguely of Bentworth, but his hard face, aggressiveness and his need for approval separated him from Bentworth by a mile.

"You're right it's not easy to park in those streets at anytime," Josef said, "specially with them being so close to the High Road, but there are times of the day when you can. Picking up from school time is one of them. Lots of Mums use their cars to collect the kids from school and then you can find a parking space.

Mr. Martin is a security guard and he has a company van for night patrol, so he's pretty particular about his parking spot too. There may even have been a space directly outside the house." Josef sat silently a moment and when it seemed Mason was about to comment Bentworth re entered the room,

"Listen everyone, we've had a development that changes the direction of this meeting," he said. "The Martins have just received a ransom note in the mail, that's all I know right now, so here's what I want you to do." He started snapping off commands.

"Dave," he said to DS Ward. "You organize and supervise a team of door knockers for the whole area between the school and home. I want you to talk to the headmistress and the staff and find out if anyone saw or reported anything suspicious around the school."

Bentworth paused there before continuing, "Get a picture of the kid from the parents and flash it round, the rest of you have cases to be getting on with but set your mind to work on this, anything you can think of. Brian," he said to Mason. "I want you on research, anything you can turn up on kidnapping, abduction, attempted, whatever you can find. Just London first, then the Home Counties, but concentrate on kidnapping. There can't be that many, and send this bag and its contents to forensics, and can you get someone to check the computer too By this time people were standing. "Any press contact through me, "Bentworth continued. "I mean it, "he added louder. He looked at Josef who was leaving with the others.

"Josef, I want you to come with me to the Martins' and take a look at this note. It changes the whole situation," Bentworth paused for effect, "if it's real," he said raising his eyebrows. "Give me ten to get my coat."

Josef left the room and found DS Ward at his desk, on the phone, with a fresh coffee in his hand talking to someone from uniform branch.

"Well if three is all I can have then send 'em up," he said looking up at Josef questioningly. "Yeah a car would be great if you've got one," he paused then laughed. "Didn't think so, thanks," he hung up. Josef handed the picture of Daniel to him.

"Got this from the family this morning," he said. "It's pretty recent by all accounts."

"Thanks mate," DS Ward said looking at the photograph. "Saves me a trip, I'll make copies." Josef turned to leave.

"One more thing," he turned back, "talk to the dinner ladies."

"What?" Ward asked, "Why the dinner ladies?"

"They're not on the same hours as the rest of the school, they come and go different times. Sometimes they watch the playground at lunchtimes too, they see things. You might wanna check the local sweet shops too. Anyone hanging round might fancy a snack."

"Will do... and thanks a lot," Ward said genuinely.

Josef barely had time to take two sips of his coffee when Bentworth returned to CID with his coat and a briefcase.

"Ready," he asked. When Josef nodded he said, "we'll take my car." As they walked across the parking lot Josef could read in Bentworth's manner something was bothering him.

"There a problem sir?" he asked.

"What? oh... maybe," Bentworth said drawn back from distraction. He seemed to give some more thought to the situation so Josef said nothing and when he finally spoke they were seated in Bentworth's Jaguar headed for the Martins'.

"Two things are bugging me Jo," he said. Although Josef hated being called Jo he held the rebuke in. "The bag, that's one, and the note, that's two. D'you know how hard it is to get away with kidnapping these days?"

Bentworth didn't seem to require an answer, and when Josef didn't give one they continued in silence to the Martins' house where the door was opened by the PC Whitlock. Inside Mr. and Mrs. Martin were sitting in the kitchen at the table drinking tea, Bentworth went in and sat with them, Josef held the female officer in the hall.

"Where're the others?" he asked.

"You know you said these sickos like to look," she said. Josef nodded. "Well when the letter arrived they had this idea that they should watch either end of the street 'cause surely whoever sent it would want to know the letter was delivered."

"Great, top thinking," Josef said. "Tell me everything from when I left you this morning." Josef took the debriefing in the hall. When the PC had finished Josef smiled.

"I really appreciate this," he said, "I owe you one." It was then that Josef noticed for the first time her smile; quite beautiful really.

"I'll collect," she said. When Josef entered the kitchen Bentworth was holding the note, which had thoughtfully been put in a zip lock freezer bag, the envelope in another beside him on the table. He passed the note to Josef.

Mr. and Mrs. Martin,

I have your son Daniel, he is safe and well. For now.

If you want Daniel back, put the money into the Swiss International Bank of Geneva.

Acc 490036-8711491

Failure to comply will result in Daniel's death. You have until midday Friday to make the transfer. This is the last communication we will have until after the DEADline.

K

Josef re-read the note six times,

"Shit," he said quietly. Mrs. Martin looked at him.

"What?" she asked, tears welling in her eyes. "What's wrong with it, I don't get it, he doesn't even say how much money, he's gonna kill Daniel isn't he? He calls it a deadline. You know don't you? He's mad isn't he?" Josef raised a hand to silence her.

"Please," he said, "it's nothing like that, trust me. It just causes a whole set of problems. Using Daniel's name and threats is supposed to make you upset and frightened, but it's a good sign. The real threat would be if he depersonalized Daniel. He'd be much more likely to hurt Daniel if he didn't use his name." This seemed to make sense to Mrs. Martin and she looked at her husband for confirmation, he nodded his agreement of Josef's opinion.

"Are you sure?" she said hopefully.

"I'm certain," Josef answered. "Killers don't think of their victims as humans, it's like killing an animal for them, it's totally objective, impersonal, like when you step on a spider, it's not human." She accepted this.

All the while Bentworth had been sitting silently, Josef standing by his shoulder.

"We'll need to take this for forensic examination," Bentworth said, standing and holding the note and envelope. "We should do that as quickly as possible. We'll follow up with the post office and send some fingerprint technicians for all your fingerprints but in the meantime I suggest you start looking at your finances." The Martins looked at each other.

"What do you mean?" Mr. Martin said. "Are you saying we should pay?" Bentworth looked up from the note.

"I'm saying you should think about what you'll do if we can't get a lead from the note or the bank."

"That's it?" Mr. Martin snapped angrily in disbelief. "You're just gonna leave us?"

"Mr. Martin," Bentworth soothed. "We're not just leaving you. We're in constant contact with the officers here and we can be most effective where we have access to all our resources. We'll let you know as soon as we have anything." He turned and left.

Josef said, "Please, there's lots more the note can tell us but we can't do anything else here. We need a bit of time on this." He turned and followed Bentworth into the hall. Bentworth was talking to PC Whitlock.

"I'll send relief as soon as I get back. I'm sorry, I totally understand but we've probably stolen your relief for door to door, but I'll sort something," he said, half out the door, then was gone. As Josef made to leave PC Whitlock stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"That was nice what you said in there," she said nodding at the kitchen. "She's been really frightened and she trusts you." She seemed to fill with embarrassment and removed her hand from his arm, "they're really scared both of them."

"Thanks," Josef said, trying desperately to remember her name. In the end he seemed to remember her saying Maria but he wasn't sure, he'd been so tied up when they'd met.

"Maria isn't it," he felt dumb, but she smiled and it was Josef's turn to be embarrassed, "I'm crap with names," he blurted. He hurried towards the door and was half way out when she said

"Close."

The car was already idling when Josef climbed carefully into it. It was pristine inside.

"What's your take on the note Jo, I mean really?" Bentworth said hurriedly as he pulled away from the curb. "What's it about? Revenge or something? Mr. Martin didn't say much about it."

Josef thought about that for a moment then dismissed it. He hadn't been paying much attention to the man and he'd seemed subdued but maybe it was just shock. Josef shelved that thought and answered the question.

"You're right there's something not right about it. There's no ransom sum, that's the worst thing. There's the use of the boy's name, which supports the theory that he's no Fred West, but the death threat seems totally serious, because of that I think there's a real chance that he might kill the boy. Then there's the money, which means two things. First the kidnapper is questioning the boy's value to the parents, and second, he's removing all responsibility for the outcome from himself. If the money is not enough then the boy dies and it's the parents' fault, it all comes back to the parents." Josef was lost in thought for a moment when Bentworth said, "You're good at this."

"Not really," Josef replied distractedly, "It's just a way of thinking."

"Well what do you think we should do next?" Bentworth asked.

"The key is the parents, that's the message the kidnapper is sending. It's their choice and their responsibility, how much do they value Daniel. I'd start with all the boy's medical records and school reports everything. If the boy was being abused then this may be punishment for the parents, it could be a relative or something, and that would explain how easy the abduction had been.

Bentworth seemed to like this idea and as they drove on in silence Josef allowed his mind to ponder some of the more intriguing questions. Like what did K mean?

Chapter 7: Oh shit!

When they arrived back at the police station they were halfway between the car park and building when Bentworth's phone rang,

"CDI Bentworth," he answered. "Yes Sir," he said into the phone and paused, "I'm just here now Sir, in the car park, we've just got back from the Martins' Sir," another pause. "Yes Sir I have it here," he listened for a longer time, "OK Sir, I'll be up right away." He turned to Josef,

"I've got to go 'upstairs' Jo," he said with a nod toward the building in front of them, "I've got to fill in the Superintendent on what's going on. I don't want to loose this case to Specialist Crime Directorate or anyone else. I don't know how long I'll be so just do what you can, get someone to chase up the family medical history and get DC Ward to ask about the abuse angle in the school but go gentle if you know what I mean."

Josef held the door open for Bentworth who passed through and disappeared in the opposite direction without another word.

Josef returned to CID and found an empty desk. He spent the next hour making notes and calls and by lunchtime he had the afternoon booked. He ate a quick lunch in the canteen and drove across town to Daniel's school. When he arrived at St Benjamin's and found reception he was greeted by a school secretary who reminded him of the nit nurse in his primary school. He introduced himself and was shown straight into the headmistress's office.

"Mrs. Plotsligt," the headmistress said offering a hand. Josef took it. "Please have a seat inspector."

Josef smiled, "Josef Lindahl, it's, err, just plain DC I'm afraid"

"DC?" she enquired, deflated.

"Detective Constable," he replied, at which she brightened again.

"Well, please have a seat detective," she waited until Josef sat. "What can I do for you? There was a policeman here this morning making enquiries I gather, but I was in a meeting and didn't have time to talk to him. I take it this is about the same thing?"

"Yes it is," Josef said. "We just need to make some more," he paused, "delicate enquiries, and I'd like to talk to both yourself and Daniel Martin's class teacher. Alone if that can be arranged."

"Of course," she reached for the phone and dialed. "Ah, Susan, can you fetch Ms Bennett please," she hung up. "She's coming. Can I get you anything while we wait?"

"Some coffee would be good thanks." She smiled and left Josef alone in the room. Five minutes later she returned with a tray of coffee, some biscuits and Ms Bennett.

When all were seated and coffee served Josef began.

"Ms Bennett, can you tell me everything you can about Daniel Martin?"

"There's not much to tell really," she said. "He was an average student, good at sports and pretty sensible for eleven. He didn't really get into any trouble to speak of." She seemed genuine but unhelpful.

"Have there been any incidents of fighting, bullying, his parents upsetting any other parents, anything like that, anything at all," he coaxed. Ms Bennett looked blank.

"Not that I can think of," she said.

"There was one more thing," Josef said, and leaned forward conspiratorially. "Did Daniel ever seem..." he paused, "down, tired, unwell in any way. Perhaps a little withdrawn or uncooperative?" He let the words hang in the air until the unspoken meaning was obvious. When no one spoke Mrs. Plotsligt broke the silence.

"Detective, we do have a system here for identifying children who," she hunted for the words, "are at risk. Daniel has never shown any signs of being at risk. I mean his name has never been brought to my attention."

When Josef left he was pretty sure that, whilst having all the good intentions in the world, the teachers at St Benjamin's were just not well enough equipped to do anything other than dish out a second rate education to children who could only learn if they were interested enough to try. And he still had no idea if Daniel was being abused.

His stop at the family GP told him nothing. Daniel hadn't seen a GP in two years, and then it was for mumps and the GP he'd seen no longer worked at the health center. In fact, no present employee at the health center had seen Daniel Martin at all. There was one incident on record with A&E at the local hospital six months ago when Daniel needed stitches and a tetanus injection after falling from a fence and cutting his knee on a piece of broken fence post, but otherwise there was nothing else. He also decided to check Janet Martin's medical notes and found nothing of interest there either.

Josef returned to CID offices around six, exhausted and pissed off. Checking around he learned that Bentworth hadn't been back all day, so after writing up his notes, copying them and leaving them in an envelope for Bentworth he left for the day. On the way home he stopped in at the Martin's house where he spoke to a young PC, but with nothing new or helpful there either he went home.

Josef was tired, verging on exhausted. He slumped into the sofa and dozed off almost immediately. He was forced to consciousness around nine by growling hunger. He was too tired to cook so he ordered pizza. Stomach full he was just thinking of sleep when his mobile rang about ten o'clock.

"Josef Lindahl," he answered, but this time he knew the caller's number. Josef listened for about ten seconds.

"Oh shit!" he said, "hang on I'll get a pen." He wrote an address and hung up.

Chapter 8: The Beachams

When Josef arrived at the Beachams' house Bentworth was already there. A young PC opened the door and Josef was mildly irritated to find Mason there too, but he said nothing.

"Josef," Bentworth said, a little too urgently, "come in here." The living room was filled with a blue haze of cigarette smoke. There were two women on the sofa and a young boy playing a games console in the corner. Someone had thoughtfully given the boy headphones and he seemed oblivious to the tension in the room.

"Josef this is Mrs. Beacham," Bentworth introduced, "and this is Mrs. Wagstaff and her son Tom." Josef nodded to both women and gave the boy a glance. "This is DC Lindahl. He's here to ask you a few more questions, probably the ones we missed," he laughed a little, "but he's here to help," Bentworth concluded, then he turned to Josef. "Mrs. Wagstaff and her son Tom walked Jamie home from Karate this evening," he said. "They watched from the end of the street and saw Jamie come into the garden so they walked on. Jamie never made it into the house."

Josef nodded. Inside he was in shock, that's as near to impossible as impossible gets.

"I take it you were home and waiting for Jamie?" Josef asked. She nodded. "You take it in turns to walk the boys to Karate?" Another nod. "Is it far?"

"Just at the Hoskins Community Center, 'bout ten minutes away," she said.

"Yeah I know the place," Josef said, his mind now racing with questions. However, he decided he'd get more information by letting them tell the story than by asking questions so he bit his tongue. People answer the questions you ask them, but when people tell you about something, they answer the ones you don't ask. He put his digital recorder on the table and switched it on.

"Mrs. Wagstaff," Josef smiled, "please could you wait in the kitchen while I speak to Mrs. Beacham."

"Of course," she smiled back, not in the least outwardly bothered by the request. "I'll make some more coffee. Would you like a coffee too?" she asked.

"Yes please," Josef nodded eagerly. "I'll come and get it when I'm ready When she'd gone Josef turned to Mrs. Beacham.

"Where's Mr. Beacham," he asked, "if there is one?"

"He's out looking for Jamie with Stella's husband. He couldn't just sit here you know, he had to be doing something." Josef nodded his understanding.

"Please, in your own words tell me everything you can remember about this evening, start from the time you got home from work."

Josef listened carefully and by the end it was clear that Mrs. Beacham wasn't going to be able to help very much. She'd basically got home, cooked, watched soaps, waved goodbye to Jamie and watched more soaps, with Mr. Beacham by her side the whole time after he got in from work thirty minutes after her. Josef was stumped.

"Think very carefully," he asked. "Think over the last few days, have you noticed anything out of the ordinary, anything at all that."

"Like what?" she interrupted.

Josef's mind wanted to scream and laugh and shake the woman.

"Like anyone watching the house, following you. A stranger in the local shop watching Jamie, anything like that?" he suggested.

"No, nothing like that," she said, almost without thinking.

"How about cars parked in the street, this is a pretty small street, so you must know nearly every car. Have there been any you haven't seen before, anyone in your space anything like that?"

"I don't drive," she said sadly. "I don't really take much notice of cars, I'm sorry. I want to help

Josef felt bad. "There's as much to be learned in finding out nothing as in finding out something," he said tactfully. "I'd rather hear there's nothing significant you remember than twenty little things we spent time checking out that come to nothing."

He paused and looked at one of the others to help him, when none did he continued. "You're being much more helpful than you think." She looked unconvinced so he changed tack to some questions she could answer.

"Can you fill me in on all the family details, like where Jamie goes to school and what you and your husband do for a living, friends, hobbies, that kind of thing?"

"I've already told them everything," she said indicating Bentworth and Mason.

"Good," Josef smiled, "OK, then I've two more things and they're favors. Can you call your husband and ask him to come back here, I need to talk to him."

"I've already done that too," she said.

"Good, then lastly, I want you to get a notebook, keep it with you and write down anything you can remember from the last three weeks that might help, a stranger talking to you at a bus stop, in a shop, especially if you had Jamie with you, anything like that."

"I'll try," she said. Josef took out a card and handed it to her. "Call me if you think of anything that might help," he said, "can you do that?"

"Yes," she said hopelessly.

"Good, thank you. Now I think I'll get that coffee."

Josef stood and left the room. Bentworth and Mason followed, they stopped him in the hallway, Mason closing the living room door behind them so they were alone.

"What do you think?" Bentworth asked. "Is it another one?" Josef was thinking and was about to answer when Mason broke in.

"Did you learn anything from the parking situation?" he goaded.

"Knock it off," Bentworth said, and the authority in his voice surprised both Josef and Mason.

"Well," Mason said defensively, "he's not helping, he's just upsetting the woman."

"Good point," Bentworth said. "Can you go in there and keep her company Brian." It was not a direct dismissal but Mason was still not happy about it. He glared at Josef and then left.

"Don't mind him," Bentworth smiled, "he means well and he's a good detective. He just doesn't trust anyone until they've got ten years under their belt. So tell me, what do you think?"

"I think it's highly likely it's the same man. Both kids went missing between the end of the street and the front door, they're both the same age and did you see the photo on the bookshelf, they both have short dark hair. I think there'll turn out to be more similarities yet but that's just for starters."

"OK," Bentworth said, "I'll call the scene of crime team to take a look in the garden, if the mothers friend," he said nodding at the kitchen "saw the boy go into the garden he must have been taken from there. We might get lucky and find something, we'll need surveillance too."

"I don't think the garden will turn anything up but it's worth a try," Josef said. "You could get the same surveillance team in here that were at the Martins' last night, they did some good work there. We could really use the help again."

Bentworth pulled out his phone theatrically. "Anything else," he said jokingly.

"Not right now but I'll be first to ask," Josef said and opened the kitchen door.

"I'll be there in a minute," Bentworth said, the phone already to his ear. Josef was immediately surprised as he was met by a small furry dog, its tail wagging furiously as it sniffed at him.

"Just in time," Stella Wagstaff said, "coffee just made, sugar?"

"Two please," Josef smiled and took the offered cup. "Have a seat please Mrs. Wagstaff," she sat, offering him the sugar bowl and a spoon. Josef put his dictaphone on the table and switched it on, Mrs. Wagstaff eyed it casually.

"Don't worry about that," he grinned, "I've got such a bad memory."

"Somehow I doubt that," she said politely, then looked him in the eye, her face deadpan. "I think you study people and you use that thing to help you," she said, "helps you play at being them." She paused, then her face broke into a friendly smile. "Sorry," she said, "just my little game."

"What is it with people called Stella?" Josef shook his head.

"What do you mean?" she asked seriously.

"They're all psychic I swear," he joked. "If I have a daughter I'm gonna call her Stella, I think it must be a magic name." They laughed a little together then sat quietly sipping coffee, after a moment Josef broke the silence.

"Anyway you can't be psychic," he said.

"And why not? I'd be so disappointed," she smiled.

"Because it's just a habit from university," he said pointing at the Dictaphone. "I just used it for lectures because I found making notes and listening at the same time impossible. I'd rather listen properly and make notes after, fill in what I don't remember from this," he pointed at it again.

"Typical man," she said and smiled, "can't do more than one thing at a time." At that moment the door opened and Bentworth came in.

"Sorry," he said, "have you been waiting for me?"

"Just having a coffee while we wait Sir," Josef said. "Thought you'd want to be in on this."

When Bentworth was seated Josef began again with the evening's events. There was nothing in Mrs. Wagstaff's recollections that gave Josef any hope, and when she was finished he sighed.

"Please, go back in your mind to the point where you came out of the Karate lesson. Picture it in your mind, try to remember every little detail from then on: smells and sounds, anything you can think of that helps. Close your eyes and relax." He paused as she settled herself. "Tell me what you see."

She thought for a long time.

"The boys were talking about an upcoming grading, it was a bit cold and they weren't wearing socks so I made them put their socks on outside. Tom's feet and trainers stink if he doesn't wear socks. I smoked while I was waiting. When they'd put their socks on we walked up Tilbury Road, then up Freemasons Lane. A few cars went past, nothing I remember specifically. Some kids were hanging around near the corner of Wellbeck Road but that's it. There was nothing much else special, we just walked and talked. When we got to the end of the street the boys said goodbye and Jamie ran up the street and into the garden." She opened her eyes but Josef interrupted.

"Wait, wait! Go back to the moment when Jamie left you." He waited again until she settled.

"Mmm," she said.

"OK, you watched Jamie running up the street to the garden. Try to picture the cars in the street, are there any parking spaces empty, are there any big cars parked in the street, or any vans, is there a car parked outside this house." She thought for a second.

"I don't think there were any vans because I could see him all the way to the gate and he was on the other side of the road after we crossed. Other than that I couldn't say but when we got the call and John and I came here Dan's car was parked right outside the house and I don't think he'd been anywhere in it." When she'd finished speaking she sat up and opened her eyes.

"Not very helpful I know, but I'm afraid it's all I can remember." Josef thought for a few minutes while he finished his coffee.

"Your son and Jamie, they looked quite alike. You don't seem worried that it might have been Tom that was abducted and not Jamie." Stella Wagstaff stared at him for a long time.

"I realize you have to ask these questions detective, and I was just starting to like you and everything," she said. "But Tom has been very ill since birth, he's nearly died nine times and he's actually died twice! Every day I spend with Tom is a blessing. So I'm sorry if I don't seem sympathetic enough for you, or protective enough, or whatever it is you think I should feel, but I am distraught for Kate and Dan. I wish I knew how to cry for someone else but I don't." Josef was about to answer when the doorbell rang.

"Saved by the bell," Stella said and left the kitchen. Josef looked at Bentworth

"Sorry sir, but you know I had to ask," he said.

"I didn't see anything wrong with the question," Bentworth said. "I thought it was a bit strange when you mentioned the likeness between Daniel Martin and Jamie and then I thought about her son too, they could all have been brothers. I see the significance." Bentworth continued. "But for our man to make that choice he would need to know about her son's condition and that's not likely. More probable he just chose this boy because he's alone in the garden. She," Bentworth said indicating the empty chair, "lives by the park in one of the tall houses by the toddlers playground and that's all neighborhood watch round there. Wouldn't be so easy to snatch a kid there." Josef could see the point but he wasn't totally discounting anything yet.

Mrs. Wagstaff returned with two men in tow, the first of which filled the kitchen with his bulk.

"My husband John," she said, introducing a fully bearded colossus wearing worn out jeans and a Harley t-shirt. Josef introduced himself and Bentworth did likewise.

"Dan, Jamie's father," she said, guiding the second man into the nearly full kitchen. They introduced themselves again and shook hands, then Mrs Beacham was at the door.

"Anything?" she looked hopefully to her husband.

"Not yet," he said, "we've just come back to talk to the officers then we'll go out and keep searching, something'll turn up." He tried to sound hopeful but failed. There was not enough room for everyone in the kitchen.

"Come and sit with me Kate," Mrs. Wagstaff said. "We'll leave the boys to talk." When they were gone Josef turned to Mr. Beacham,

"I'm really sorry to have called you back here but we need to ask you a few questions." Mr. Beacham just nodded and looked at the floor. He picked up the dog.

"Have you seen anyone hanging round, have there been any cars parked in the road that don't belong to any of your neighbors, maybe someone in a car, anyone watching you at all, watching the house?" Mr. Beacham thought about it.

"Not that I can think of," he said.

"Has anyone spoken to you, maybe when you were with Jamie, at a bus stop or in a shop?" Beacham looked even more puzzled.

"I don't think so, I mean, I do talk to people sometimes but," he shrugged, "nobody special." He looked hopeless, but the hulking Wagstaff laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Mr. Beacham does Jamie have access to a computer, can he use the internet?" Josef asked.

"Yeah, there's one upstairs. He mostly just plays games on it though."

"What're not telling us like?" Mr. Wagstaff said in a heavy North Yorkshire accent. "You know sommat 'int right here, you should say what it is." Josef looked at Bentworth who nodded and when Josef was about to speak the doorbell rang again.

"Saved by't bell," Wagstaff said and left the kitchen.

"Perhaps we should go into the living room," Bentworth suggested and rose. The three of them left the kitchen and went into the living room, where they were joined by Wagstaff and PC Whitlock, the policewoman who had taken watch at the Martins'. Now the living room was crowded but everyone found somewhere to sit except the uniformed officer who stood by the door. Josef took a deep breath.

"Mrs. Beacham, do you know a Mr. and Mrs. Martin? They have a son named Daniel, who goes to St Benjamin's. It's not far from here. they live quite close by too. Near the recreation ground on Brighton Road." she was shaking her head. "Please think, it's very important, Michael Martin, Janet Martin and Daniel Martin, he's eleven." She was still shaking her head.

"What's this about?" Stella Wagstaff asked. "Do you think this other boy ran off with Jamie somewhere, or took him?"

"No Mrs. Wagstaff," Josef answered. "Daniel Martin was kidnapped yesterday afternoon between the end of his street and his front garden. His schoolbag was found IN the front garden." Everyone was shocked into silence. "His parents received a ransom note this morning indicating that Daniel was fine, so, you see the similarities." Mr. Beacham went pale and Mrs. Beacham started to cry.

"You think we'll get a ransom note," Mr. Beacham asked lamely.

"If this is the same person I'd say so," Josef said.

"Do you think it is?" he asked.

"I do, but he hasn't called yet and he called the Martins after taking their son," Josef replied. "But if he doesn't call we'll see if there's a note tomorrow." The doorbell rang and Whitlock left to answer it.

"That'll probably be scene of crime," Josef said and Mrs. Beacham looked up. "It's nothing to worry about, it's just if Jamie was taken from inside the garden there might be some clues."

The next hour was spent in turmoil, the SOC turned up almost at the same time as one more PC for watch duty. Everyone was busy for the next hour and after finding nothing more than one pound fifty in the garden, the two man SOC team left with the intention of spending it on a pint. When Bentworth was leaving he was carrying the computer to the Jaguar, he found Josef leaning on the hood of a small car a little down the road.

"I wouldn't let anyone catch you doing that," he said a little haughtily.

"OH," Josef said being pulled back to reality, "It's mine."

Bentworth smiled.

"Had you pegged as a SAAB man myself," he grinned, "you know, only dentists and solicitors drive SAAB."

"Yeah," Josef laughed, "and young DC's drive cheap Renaults."

"Thanks for the notes," Bentworth said changing the subject. "Good thinking. I need to know what's going on and I can't always be in the loop. What do you make of it?" he asked, flicking his head back towards the house.

"I don't know," Josef said. "I think it's the same guy, an' if it is I've got a thousand questions - like how the hell he can take a kid from his own garden without leaving a trace or making a noise. I noticed the dog isn't a barker but if the kid had made a distressed noise or a struggle surely the dog would have barked. And why didn't he call?" Josef paused and thought again.

"If it's the same guy then there's probably more than one person because you can't kidnap two kids in two days and send two ransom notes, it would be a real task. I mean it could be done but it would be difficult, you'd need someone to watch the first kid unless you locked him up. Then the victims don't make sense either. They're not rich families or anything so I don't think money can be the real motive, not when the kids look so similar. I don't know, I can't put it all together, there's still too many pieces missing"

"Sounds to me like you're putting it together just fine," Bentworth said, his face softened by the streetlights. "We don't have enough of anything for a profile I know, but if a second note turns up tomorrow the press is going to go wild and I'll need something." Bentworth looked concerned and a little forlorn, and when he spoke again there was a hint of pleading in his voice "I'm hoping you can give me something?"

"I'll put something together," Josef said smiling. "No probs. Oh, by the way, speaking of notes, did anything come up with our note, prints or anything, any news from the post office, or from the computer?"

"I was in meetings most of the day, so I asked DS Ward to follow up with the post office earlier, you should ask him, I haven't had chance. The note went to forensics. We should have a report in the morning, same with the computer. Now," Bentworth looked at his watch, "there's nothing else we can do here and if you're just going to spend some time thinking, do it in bed at home eh?"

"Yes Sir," Josef said. On the other hand he knew his mind was going somewhere, he just didn't know where, and the times he'd experienced this before he'd just given it the time to get where it was going. Unfortunately they didn't have time now and he wasn't in university anymore.

Bentworth left and Josef was once again alone on the street. He decided to go home and sleep on it. Apart from anything else he needed the sleep.

As Josef left the street he noticed Whitlock standing in the shadows of a tall hedge on the corner, he stopped.

"Thanks for coming over," he said. "I wanted someone I could trust and you did a good job yesterday."

"Thanks," she smiled, "it's nice of you to say so." Her eyes really were very stunning.

"How is it going for the Martins, I mean, how did they seem to you tonight? Are they coping?" They spent the next ten minutes talking about the situation during which Josef learned that the Martin's had been to the bank and were bankrupt after freeing up all their money. It wasn't much, about ten thousand pounds, barely enough for a new car. Josef suddenly realized how difficult it was going to be for people to get money at such short notice. He suddenly felt very tired.

"Can you make notes of everything and let me have them please?" he asked.

"Sure," she replied.

"Thanks," he paused, "Marcia?"

"Close," she laughed. "Now bugger off, you're ruining my lookout."

Josef drove away embarrassed, heading home with the window down and the stereo on, and when he got there he undressed and jumped straight into bed. He was asleep before the covers warmed up.

Chapter 9: K

K woke later than he'd intended and knowing what he'd missed the night before. He'd forgotten to call the Beachams as he had the Martins but there was nothing to be done about it now. He was a little niggled that he'd made this mistake, and so early on, but it couldn't be helped and it was not serious. K's real problem was that part of his plan was to keep the pressure on the police and he'd slept in. He cursed himself for it and dressed hurriedly.

K found Jamie Beacham crying on the bed. When K had explained the situation and the rules one more time to the now more aware boy, he calmed down a little. He made both boys breakfast and when he took the breakfast into Daniel the kid was playing a game on the PS2.

"Did Mum and Dad pay you yet?" he asked brightly.

"I gave them till Friday," K said.

"What's today?" Daniel asked.

"Wednesday." The boy was quiet. "Not long now," K continued, "have any problems while I was gone?"

"Nah," Daniel said, "it was alright. I didn't see nuffin' about me on the news."

"Too soon for that," K said, "the police are keeping it quiet." He put a finger to his lips dramatically.

"Ah," the boy said knowingly, and then shifted his attention to the tray. K restocked Daniel's supplies while he ate and when he'd finished he took out the remains of breakfast.

"I'll be back tomorrow, and not so much chocolate today," he said.

"OK," Daniel waved dismissively, his attention already back on the game. When K visited Jamie again the boy had eaten half the fry up. K was pleased as it meant the boy was settling down. He questioned Jamie to make sure he understood what was happening to him, and then left him alone.

By the time K left the cottage it was after nine and he'd missed the days post by a long way. It was important to get the note to the Beacham's today, keeping the police busy and one step behind was what would enable K to keep going. He jumped in the van and headed for London, and by the time he'd reached home he had a plan.

K parked the van in the garage, hopped straight into the jaguar and drove into town. He wandered round until he found the perfect shop, it was a small private estate agents in the high street, and as luck would have it, closed. K went to the nearest phone box and called a local mini cab company.

"A to B minicabs," the controller answered.

"Hello," K said in his natural voice. "I need a cab to drop off a contract for me, can you do that?"

"Sure," the controller replied, "normal cab fare though."

"Great. Look, I'm late for a viewing so I've got to run but I'll leave the contract and the cab fare in an envelope half out of the letterbox of O'Leary's Estate Agents in the High Street, across the road from the Pizza Hut, is that OK?"

"Where's it going to?" the controller asked.

"Just down to Benton Street, near the fire station," he said.

"Three pounds fifty," the controller said, "about fifteen minutes."

"Great, thanks," K said and hung up.

K walked straight to the cash till and took out thirty pounds, he knew lots of cash tills were under closed circuit TV surveillance and he knew for a fact this one was but he also knew for a fact, that this section of the high street had no traffic or street surveillance cameras in operation. K took the thirty pounds, one twenty note and one ten, and walked to a newsagent. He bought a paper, some sweets, a small packet of tissues and a pack of large envelopes. He handed over the twenty-pound note.

When the change came he held out one hand and as he'd guessed he got a ten pound note first, then a five, and then change. He closed his hand around the money, only the ten note touching his skin, and walked out holding the cash. K walked hurriedly back to the jaguar and once inside the car, dropped the money on the passenger seat. He opened the pack of tissues and took one out. Then he pulled out the already stamped and addressed ransom note in its plastic bag and used the tissue to slip the fiver and the ransom note into a fresh large envelope from the new packet. K put the large envelope back in the plastic bag. When he was finished he was sure he hadn't touched anything with his bare hands except the outside of the plastic bag.

Back at the estate agents K used the plastic bag to shove the envelope half way into the letterbox and hurried across the road. He hung around looking in shop windows for about ten minutes before a non-descript white Vauxhall estate pulled up in front of O'Leary's. An Asian man jumped out and retrieved the envelope from the letterbox. He opened it as he walked back to the car. The driver pulled out the fiver, pocketed it and pulled out the ransom note, he checked the address on the envelope, walked round the car, slipped in and drove away. K was pleased with this. The note was late, but it would be an unexpected development that would keep the police busy chasing up worthless leads.

K was so pleased he decided on lunch out, and since he was almost outside the pizza hut, he strolled in. It was busy inside with the lunchtime rush and K had trouble finding an empty table.

When a two seater table near the window became vacant he pounced. He ordered four-cheese pizza and a coke. Sipping the coke he waited impatiently for the pizza, suddenly very hungry.

It was about fifteen minutes later that K realized he'd made his third mistake, and not a little one this time. Three patrol cars came screeching to a halt outside O'Leary's, blocking the street. Officers jumped out and inspected the front of the shop, others heading up and down the street. It was only a matter of time, K decided, before they noticed the large open window of pizza hut looking onto the High Street and out at O'Leary's.

K pulled his mobile from his pocket and held it to his ear just as the waitress came over carrying his pizza.

"OK," he said, "I'll be there in a mo, just tell him to wait please." He looked exasperatedly at the waitress.

"Can you box that for me and bring the bill," he said shaking his head. "Sorry."

"No problem," she said and disappeared with the tray.

K looked out at the officers, one was sitting in the car talking into a radio. The officer looked up and down the street and shook his head and talked some more. K was starting to sweat, the policeman now seemed to be nodding. He got out of the patrol car and called several other officers over, then he spoke into his shoulder mike.

As K watched the waitress appeared with a pizza box and saucer with the bill on it, she put them on the table and walked away. The bill was for twelve pounds seventy five, K pulled the cash from his pocket, put fourteen pounds and change on the plate and left. He left the pizza hut, turned away from O'Leary's and the police and headed straight for his car. As he entered the car park he chanced a look back up the High Street. One officer was crossing the road towards a clothing store another heading for the pizza hut.

Chapter 10: Mr. Haseem

Josef woke at seven and by seven forty five he was in his local café having a fry up and a mug of tea. At a quarter past eight he stopped by the Beacham's to check in with the night team.

There was nothing to report so far, so Josef stopped by the post office. He talked to the postmaster's assistant about the local collections, deliveries, postmen and women. He didn't learn much except that the post office were short staffed, overworked, under pressure and that DS Ward had been in and fingerprinted the post woman who had delivered to the Martin's and that he'd asked about where the letter had come from, to which the answer was, somewhere local by the post mark and date.

By the time Josef left the post office he'd decided they were not going to give him the cooperation he needed. He reached the station by nine thirty and found everyone in the meeting room.

When he walked in DS Ward was giving a run down of the door to door, the school and the post office, all of which had turned up nothing. Josef stood at the back of the room listening.

Next Mason gave his research findings, they were not very helpful either. Kidnapping it seemed was a very rare crime and often an unsuccessful one, and no one had ever used an MO similar to this.

Josef's briefing was short and he gave an account of his interview with Mrs. Plotsligt and Daniel's teacher and what he'd found out from Daniel's doctor. The abuse angle was going cold and he hadn't turned up anything else. He said nothing of his trip to the post office or to the Beachams'.

The forensic report on the ransom note gave them nothing, it had the fingerprints of the postwoman and Mrs. Martin's fingerprints on it but those were all. It was typed on an old typewriter, not using proper typewriter ink on the ribbon but it was a common enough ink. The machine could be matched to the note if it could be found. Standard 80 msg paper, no watermark. A cheap self-adhesive envelope had been used, with no brand marking. A self-adhesive stamp had been used, so there was not even DNA evidence for a later date. There was nothing helpful about it. The computer showed little internet usage and no sign of being used in chat rooms or for anything untoward.

"We've got phone trace authorization but unless he calls again that won't help. It doesn't look like he will either, not if the note is anything to go by." Bentworth paused and looked around the room.

"We've got no leads," he concluded, "anyone got any ideas on how we get some."

"What about the bank?" Mason asked. "Isn't there any way we could find out who the account holder is?" Bentworth shook his head.

"They'd never disclose that, this account may not have much money in, but if they divulged this account holders information, then the multi billionaire terrorists who use this type of account would take their money elsewhere, and that just isn't going happen." The room was silent.

"Can't we trace access to the bank account," Mason persisted.

"That'd be illegal, and besides, most encrypted internet connections are almost impossible to snoop in on," Bentworth said. He looked around the room for any more suggestions.

"Well then, it's back to basics," he said, "Dave, door knocking again, concentrate on Brighton road, it's a busy road and someone must have seen something. Brian, have a look at anyone who specializes in old typewriters, you never know, they might be able to tell you something about the machine we didn't already know, and talk to the boys who walked home from school with Daniel that day, they might have seen something too."

DS Ward interrupted.

"What about last night's kidnapping?" he asked, "aren't there any leads from that?"

"We're not treating that as a kidnapping unless we get a note, and if it is the same guy we'll get one soon enough, in the meantime there's no evidence the two cases are related," he replied. Ward let it go at that. Bentworth looked around the room.

"The rest of you have other cases to be getting along with but keep yourselves available should I need you, otherwise, go detect. Josef can you stay please?" he added.

With the room empty and Josef seated Bentworth relaxed.

"I had a chat with the super this morning. If there's another ransom note today then the shit is going to hit the fan and we need to go public with a press statement. Maybe press conference and public appeal, the whole shebang. I need you to work up that profile from what you have up till now. I know it won't be easy but can you do it?"

"I can try," Josef said. "The trouble is that to have a psychological profile you need some information that indicates the psychological state of the subject. We don't really have anything to go on."

"Just do what you can," Bentworth said. "Spend the day on research if you need to, but can I have what you've done by the end of the day. With any luck you'll have another note to go on," he stood, "or not actually. Thanks Jo."

When Bentworth had gone Josef sat at the table thinking. Bentworth's request was not an easy one but it was something to which he'd given thought already. The key to the kidnapper's mental state was at the heart of his motive and vice versa, and if Josef could figure the motive, or the mental state, then he'd be more than half way to catching the guy. He needed to get inside K's head.

He was growing more convinced that money was not the objective here, was K punishing the parents for something? Maybe he was projecting his own childhood onto these children, and maybe that was why he chose children who looked similar. Perhaps similar to himself, and that would explain a few things. Josef didn't have much to go on but the two most promising options seemed to be something about the boys that linked them, other than looks, or something that happened to them both that K felt association with. He thought that it was unlikely K wanted the boys for some personal or sexual reason. The ransom note specifically questioned the parents' value of the child and he felt K's anger was directed at them, not the boys.

Josef decided he needed someone to follow up with all family members of each family. Someone with tact, someone clever who could ask the right questions without rocking the boat, preferably someone already involved with the families and the case, and he thought he knew the perfect person.

PC Whitlock had gone home for the day but a call to her house brought her into CID offices inside half an hour. She wore a dark fitted skirt and a black pinstriped fitted blouse with white inside the collar and cuffs. She looked good.

"Not in uniform?" Josef joked.

"If I'm playing detective today then I want to dress for the part," she said. "Besides I'd already stuck the uniform in the wash, I'm not supposed to be on again till next Tuesday."

"Thanks for coming in," Josef said, "I need some help, it's nothing much but it's gotta be done quick."

He explained his abuse theory and the kind of questions he wanted asked and to whom. She listened intently and when he'd finished she stood up.

"No problem, I'll get on with it and call in tonight with the notes, but you know it's going to take more than just today to get all this done."

"I know, just do as much as you can, I really appreciate it," he said and handed her his card with his number on it, "call me if you hit trumps." She turned the card over, wrote on the back and handed it to him.

"You owe me," she teased, "and I'm not cheap."

"Trust me you're not too expensive either," Josef flirted back. She laughed as she walked off.

"Don't you need my number?" He asked.

"Got it," she smiled.

"See you..." Josef looked at the card but there was no name on the back, just a number, "Melissa," he added as she left.

"Close," she called over shoulder.

Josef decided the best place for him to start would be back at the Martins', if what he thought was right then there had to be a link between the Martins and the Beachams, and if the Beachams didn't know what it was maybe the Martins did. He spent the whole morning questioning the Martins about hobbies and places they'd worked, family, friends, schools, everything he could think of. Josef used two sets of batteries and a second tape and when he was finished Josef had learned a large part of Daniel's family life. What he hadn't done was jog any memories in the Martins, and what Josef planned to do next was to play the tape to the Beachams and see what happened. When he left the Martins' Josef took a long list of registration numbers from the PC on watch, there were about thirty.

"I know it's a long list Sir but we ruled out people just parking, people that live in the street and visitors you know, just the drive bys like you said," the PC told him.

"Perfect," Josef replied and smiled. "I know it's hard work but keep it up, the closer to the deadline it gets the more likely he is to pay a visit." Josef tried not to sound patronizing but did a little anyway, so he added, "thanks," with a smile and left. Josef thought about lunch before going to the Beachams' but decided he might play the tape for them and order a takeout pizza to eat there, he was running short of time and needed desperately to make some progress.

When Josef entered Benton Street a white estate car had stopped in the middle of the road in front of the Beachams' house, blocking the street because of the parked cars on either side. Josef drove up behind the car and got out, as he rounded the front of his Renault he saw a PC in the front garden holding down an Asian man and putting cuffs on him. Josef ran into the garden fumbling for his warrant card

"What's going on, what's happened?" he half shouted holding out the ID. The uniformed officer looked up and glanced at the ID.

"He delivered the ransom note," the PC said. "Says he's a cabbie from A to B car service, says he picked it up from the letterbox of O'Leary's estate agents in the high street."

"Right," Josef said, "have you called it in, who's on route to the scene?"

"I think Jimmy's calling it in, he's inside. I just made him wait while we took a look at what he'd delivered," he said nodding at the body on the ground at his feet, "you've seen the rest," he finished. At that moment Jimmy appeared at the door.

"They're sending two cars up the High Street now to check O'Leary's," he looked at Josef questioningly, Josef offered his warrant card.

"Fuck me that was quick," Jimmy said, and handed the card back.

"Tell the two squads to look out for a white male, thirty to sixty, dark hair, he might be watching from somewhere nearby," Josef said. "Get a car to the cab office and check it out, cabbies aren't the most law abiding people."

"Sir."

As Jimmy unclipped his shoulder radio and began relaying the message to dispatch Josef spoke to the other officer.

"Check him out, name address, and check the car registration, let's have an idea of who he is and what just happened."

Josef entered the house, he found the Beachams and Mr. and Mrs. Wagstaff in the living room with the note and envelope on the table, Stella Wagstaff was wearing one rubber glove, the other one held in her gloved hand, they looked up at Josef.

"Bloody hell that was quick," Stella said.

"I was on my way over for something else actually, I just got here. Can I see the note?" Stella made a move to pick it up with her gloved hand.

"Please," Josef said raisin his hand to stop her, "leave it on the table, the more it gets touched," He didn't finish the sentence, he didn't need to. Mrs. Beacham stood and moved out from the table where she'd been sitting with the note directly in front of her. Josef shimmied round the coffee table and sat, the note and envelope spread out before him.

Mr and Mrs Beacham,

I have your son Jamie, he is safe and well. For now.

If you want Jamie back, put the money into the Swiss International Bank of Geneva.

Acc 490036-8711491

Failure to comply will result in Jamie's death. You have until midday Saturday to make the transfer. This is the last communication we will have until after the DEADline.

K

Josef read the note several times. The note looked exactly the same as the Martin's had. Josef checked the envelope, it was a self adhesive type, the same as before, with a self adhesive stamp. It was addressed in the same typeface as the Martin's had been but this one was obviously never posted, there was no sign of a postmark on it anywhere. Josef was deep in thought when Mrs. Beacham spoke.

"So is this the same as the other family got then?" she asked, Josef nodded. "Then that's good isn't it?" she continued, "That means he's OK?"

"Yes it does," Josef said easily, "I don't think this man means the children any harm. I think he has a problem with you, I mean with the parents." Mrs. Beacham thought about this for a minute.

"You think Jamie's been taken because of something we've done?" she began to cry and Stella put a hand around her.

"What I'm saying is that's maybe how the kidnapper sees it. What I'm starting to think is that this K is superimposing his childhood onto these boys. Something that happened in his childhood screwed him up, maybe his parents mistreated him or something, I think that could explain the physical similarity in the boys." Josef wasn't sure if he'd just said too much and blown whatever line of questioning he might have but he was in no mood to pussy foot and he needed results.

"Has anyone ever accused you of abusing Jamie?" he asked. There was uproar.

"If you think I've ever laid a hand on my son," Mr. Beacham was shouting, "then you're fucking crazy." Josef stood and raised his hands,

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry alright," he said, the room fell silent. "What I said was, has anyone accused you of that, maybe Jamie fell off his bike and banged his head and someone thought more of it. What I'm looking for here is some kind of motive."

"No one has EVER accused us of hurting Jamie," Mr Beacham said, still angry and close to shouting.

"I need as much help as I can get here, so what I'm going to do is play you a tape," Josef said pulling out the tape player and a notepad and pen. "It's the other family on the tape, they're talking about all kinds of things they do, places they go, friends and so on. Can you all listen carefully and write down anything that you think might connect you and them.

Think from a third party point of view, someway someone could have known both boys without them knowing each other," Josef started the tape and left the Martin's and their guests listening and writing.

Outside Josef found the cab driver leaning handcuffed against his car talking with Jimmy, the second uniformed officer searching the inside. Josef leaned in the open door.

"What have we got?"

"Mr. Mohammed Ali Haseem, 419 Trident House. No previous, unlicenced minicab driver, probably on the dole, but otherwise nothing."

"And the High Street?"

"You best ask Jimmy Sir." Josef pulled his head from the car.

"What's the latest from the squads in the High Street and the cab office?"

"Well, I passed on your description, they say the High Street is packed but they're asking in some of the shops in case someone saw something. The estate agents is closed, they're trying to locate the owner now. The story checks out with the cab office, someone rung up from the estate agents, said they were going out and to pick up a letter for delivery from the letterbox, cash inside. I've got no more details than that but it looks like he's telling the truth"

"OK," Josef said sighing, "get his car out of the way and take the cuffs off but keep him here, I'm gonna make some calls."

"What about the family?" Jimmy asked, nodding towards the house.

"They're busy," Josef said, "don't disturb them."

Chapter 11: Oh for Fuck's sake!

When Josef called Bentworth he learned that Mason had been put in charge of the High Street and the cab office. DS Ward was on his way over to collect the ransom note and take the cabbie's fingerprints. Josef updated Bentworth on his interview with the Martins and the tape the Beachams were listening to now, he also explained he had enlisted WPC Whitlock to interview families.

"Where are you with the psychological profile?" Benworth asked.

"Working on it Sir. I might come up with something from the tape or from the families but I'm not holding my breath."

"We're going to have to release a statement to the press soon, and when we do poo and fan are really going to collide and I'm going to be asked a gazillion questions from upstairs," Bentworth said, "and they'll expect answers."

"I'm on it Sir," Josef replied, but not really feeling on it at all.

"Sounds like it," Bentworth said, "keep it up," and hung up.

Josef wasn't really sure of Bentworth's sincerity on this occasion but he accepted it anyway. He pulled the business card from his pocket and dialed the number on the back, it cut straight to answer phone so Josef left a long and rambling update before being cut off by the beep. He called again, apologized to the answering phone and hung up.

Feeling completely silly Josef parked his own car in an empty space round the corner and as he walked back up to the Beachams DS Ward got out of a traffic patrol car that had pulled up outside the house. They walked in together.

Josef spent the whole afternoon with the Beachams. He ordered in Pizza for everyone, except the cab driver who was allowed to go after his prints and statement were taken. By five o'clock everyone was exhausted, and they'd found nothing to connect the boys or the families. Occasionally they had used the same supermarket but not often, they used the same DIY shop, they'd both been in Accident & Emergency at the local hospital, but beyond that it was mere coincidence, and Josef believed that more than mere coincidence linked the two families. Josef advised them to start taking stock of their financial assets, if the police were unable to find the kidnapper before the deadline the family may well want to pay and that seemed the only option if the current circumstances didn't change pretty quickly.

He made his way back to the office and was sitting at a desk in CID trying to type a psychological report when WPC Whitlock came looking for him. She came over, pulled a chair from an empty desk and sat opposite. She looked pleased.

"Well?" Josef asked eyebrows raised.

"I spoke to Daniel's grandmother, Rita Martin. She said the father hit the boy once, a bit too hard. She said Daniel was being bullied at school so he threw a bottle through a boy's living room window. The boy's father came and complained and when Daniel admitted it Mr. Martin replaced the window. Trouble was ten minutes later Daniel was being bullied again, because his dad replaced the window, so Daniel broke it again. Apparently the other boy's father complained again and when the truth came out about the bullying, Mr. Martin refused to replace the window a second time. He got into a fight with the other parent. Anyway, behind closed doors Mr. Martin smacked Daniel, she said it was too hard. The grandmother said it was a one off and she never saw any signs of anything again."

"Could be something," Josef said, "Did Daniel see a doctor or anyone about this, maybe the school nurse, and did the Grandmother know the other boy's name?"

"No, no and yes, I'm following it up tomorrow after I speak to some of the Beacham's relatives."

"Good work Martine," he said.

"Close," she smiled. "Now I'm really knackered, I've had about two hours sleep an' I'm going home."

After she'd gone Josef spent the next two hours writing up his profile, outlining his major theories based on evidence and psychological profile. When he finished he re-read it. He'd never written anything like it and he wasn't even sure how it was supposed to be presented. He couldn't find a single example anywhere in CID to base his profile on and there was nothing in the Standard issue guide that helped either. He was tired and crabby and there was no one to help him with it so he took it up to Bentworth's office. The office was open and the light was on but the man himself was nowhere to be seen. Josef left the file on the desk and left for the evening.

Glancing at his watch as he walked through the police station car park to his car he saw it was just after nine. He had his hand in his pocket fishing out the keys when his phone rang. He pulled it out and checked the number. It was Bentworth.

"Lindahl," he said, and listened.

"Jo we've had another one."

"Oh for fuck's sake," he said.

Chapter 12: K

After forgetting the call and missing the post, the near disaster at the Pizza Hut had angered K. He'd made far too many mistakes and if he ever hoped to reach his goal then he was going to have to be a lot more careful. Just kidnapping the boys was not enough; he had other needs to meet. With this in mind he drove home while the Pizza was still hot, parked in the garage and ate the pizza in the car, thinking and cursing himself.

K decided he hadn't done any actual damage with the mistakes he'd made, in fact the biggest clues the police can get come though the predictability of the criminal, and he was at least sure they'd got the message in an unpredictable way. Although still angry with his mistakes K smiled inwardly, he longed for a 7-up to wash the pizza down, instead, he went inside and made coffee.

K pottered around for the afternoon. He did some shopping in a DIY store, bought some supplies from the supermarket and packed them up in the van. He used his computer to go out on the internet to check his mail and pay some bills but he didn't check the Swiss account yet, not until Friday.

K was not so hungry after the pizza, so he ate just a cheese omelet and some toast before changing into the full training kit: tracksuit, and official jacket of Fulham football club. He pulled the woolly cap on with the club emblem on the front. The jacket was rather special and had been bought outside London because he'd had the word Coach printed on the back in white letters. Wearing the kit he felt a little special. This wasn't the first time he'd dressed up and he thought maybe he'd have liked being an actor if he'd lived a different life.

It was about seven thirty when he pulled up outside Highfield School, where the boys having football practice were running slowly round the pitch. This was the final part of the usual training routine and K knew that they'd be finished in about five minutes. He spotted the tall thin boy with short dark hair amongst the group. It was still daylight and hanging around wasn't a good idea. Without stopping or parking he drove several streets away and waited in an empty space down a side street close to the boy's home. He would be able to see the boy cross at the junction at the end of the road without being spotted. From here K would have time to catch up with the boy before he reached his front door. K took the bottle of ether and soaked a cloth. He shoved the cloth in the glove compartment to lessen the smell in the van.

After about five minutes K saw the boy crossing. He started the van and as soon as the boy was out of sight he pulled out and at the end of the street turned left. The boy was just a hundred meters ahead on the pavement, K drew level with the boy who looked over and smiled, K stopped.

The boy came over to the van so K leaned across and opened the door, the boy stood in the open doorway.

"Hey Bryan," K said, "Your coach said I just missed you at training. Did you talk to your mum?"

"Not really," Bryan said. "She's been in a bad mood all week."

"Well I gotta talk to her tonight then, 'cause guess what?" he paused, "we've got a trial going on Saturday and I want you to come, what d'ya think?" K smiled excitedly.

"Really," Bryan asked, his eyes full of wonder.

"Yup," K smiled. "Listen jump up and tell me what she's like, I gotta park up somewhere." Bryan did as he was told and K drove two streets away and pulled into a large space in a quiet back street. The boy was talking about his mother.

"OK," K said leaning across the boy and opening the glove box, "I'll just grab my," he never finished the sentence. The boy was shocked, eyes wide open he started to struggle as K held the cloth over his mouth and nose, but it lasted only about thirty seconds and a little after that he was out cold. K checked the street again, it was still empty. He pulled the boy between the seats into the back, taped his wrists as he had with the others and put him in the box. With that done K turned his attention to the plastic bag on the passenger floor, it had the boy's football boots in it. K put on a pair of wooly Fulham branded gloves that were on the seat, picked up the bag, locked the van and headed back to Bryan's house. He walked once round the block and as he passed the boy's front garden K dropped the bag just inside the gateway next to a green wheelie bin. Crossing the street K checked that no one had seen him. Satisfied, he hurried back to the van.

On the way out of London K stopped at a phone box and called Bryan's mother. No forgetting this time.

Chapter 13: The Collridges

The Markham Road address Bentworth had given him led Josef to a run down area not far from the Beachams'. The streets and houses were badly kept and the pavements lined with old cars that hardly looked roadworthy. When he knocked, the door was answered by a uniformed officer Josef recognized from the Martins' house.

"They're waitin' for you in the kitchen," he said, "second door on the right." In the kitchen Bentworth and Mason were seated. There was a couple sat with them at the table and a huge mess everywhere else. The table was large but cluttered, it had six seats and a high chair round it, although there was only enough space on it for about two cups of tea.

Bentworth introduced Josef and as they began Josef pulled his digital recorder from his bag and laid it on the table. This was the first of the three boys to have brothers or sisters. Josef was interested.

"Tell me about your family," Josef said.

"Well there's us, and there's Bryan, he's the oldest, he's eleven." As Mrs. Collridge spoke her eyes filled up, "then Tony, he's eight, then Patrick, he's four and Lauren, she's nearly two."

"OK," Josef continued. "In your own words, tell me everything that happened this evening, say from the time Bryan got in from school."

"He got home from school about four, he always hangs around to play football or something. He's football mad. He has football training on Mondays and Wednesdays."

Josef raised his eyebrows in surprise, thinking maybe that the boy had been taken from football.

"They play matches on Saturdays," Mrs. Collridge explained. "The coach likes them to have a rest before the games."

"OK," Josef said, suppressing the temptation to jump ahead and ask whether Bryan was at training this evening. "What happened after he got in from school?"

"I made dinner early, he doesn't like to run around on a full stomach see, so I made cheese and onion pasty and chips," she paused, "that must have been around five 'cause there was still cartoons on the telly. He left here about half five. Training doesn't start till six but he likes to get there early for a kick about with the other kids. Mr. Ryder, the coach, said he was there and he left when training finished, just like normal." She stopped there as if lost.

"So Bryan didn't make it home?" Josef asked.

"No, I didn't worry because he sometimes stays for a kick about with some of the other boys but when he wasn't home by eight I started to worry. I sent Len," she pointed at her husband, "up to the school to get him but he wasn't there. Len had just got back from the school when we got this phone call from a man who said he'd taken Bryan and we'd be contacted." She started to cry then and her husband put his arm around her.

After a minute she stopped and Josef continued.

"Who took the call?" he asked.

"I did," Len replied, "he said he'd taken Bryan but that he was safe and we'd be contacted. After that he just hung up."

"What was his voice like?" Josef asked.

"Polite voice, white I guess, I didn't hear anything else."

Josef sat for a moment thinking,

"Can you think of anything at all in the last few weeks that might mean you've been watched or followed?" They both looked blank.

"Does Bryan always go to football training on his own or with friends, anything like that?" Josef asked

"He mostly walks up to the school on his own," Mrs. Collridge said "it's only a five minute walk and it's not dark out, he knows all the kids round here and they all like him," she started crying again.

"Lets take a break there. Could I have a word with you outside sir," he said to Bentworth. They left Mason in the room with Mr. Collridge comforting his wife.

"What's up?" Bentworth asked when the door was closed.

"Has anyone checked the garden?" Josef asked.

"No. You think you'll find something?"

"If, and I mean IF, it's important to K that these kids are taken from their own doorstep then yes. He left the schoolbag at the first scene, the kid was seen going into the garden in the second, here there are no witnesses again. Maybe he left something."

"Well let's go look," Bentworth said.

It took less than two minutes to find the football boots. Bentworth opened the carrier bag with a pen, he looped the pen through the handles and used it to carry the bag inside. They put the bag on the draining board.

"Are these Bryan's football boots?" Bentworth asked. Mrs. Collridge looked in the open bag,

"Yes, where did you find them?" she said

"In the front garden. Did he have them with him tonight?" he said.

"He always does," she replied. Bentworth went outside and called SOC to check the front garden.

Josef spent the next hour telling Mr and Mrs Collridge about the other two kidnappings. He asked as many questions as he could think of about the Beachams and the Martins, borrowed photographs and took a list of names and phone numbers of friends. After that he left them with the tape the Martins' had made and a notebook and went into the garden. SOC hadn't found anything and Josef didn't expect them to.

"Good call on the Garden," Bentworth said. "Does this mean we're making progress?"

"A little," Josef replied, "but I can't think what links the boys. We know now there's significance in where the boys are taken from, but I don't know what, and it doesn't fit in with the boys being abused. I don't know what's going on and we need time to follow up all the little leads and go door knocking and talk to friends and teachers, but at the rate this guy's going we'll be miles behind in days!" Bentworth looked at his feet a moment.

"I know Josef but I really can't have any more officers. I asked today after the second ransom note came in, we're strapped as it is and there's too many other cases to pull any CID. Uniform is helping all it can, we just can't have any more."

"Maybe when the press puts us under the cosh," Josef snapped. "Nothing like bad PR to loosen the purse strings."

"That's as may be," Bentworth soothed, "but until then we've got to work with what we've got." Josef nodded and they both stood silent in the garden for a moment, then Mason opened the front door.

"Find anything more?" he asked.

"Not yet," Bentworth replied. In the few seconds silence that followed Mason assessed the two men. He didn't like Josef much, he was too green to be working a case like this. Bentworth called him an advisor but he was doing most of the detective work and Mason in his heart believed this situation should be handled by experienced officers.

"I don't think they're having much luck with the tape," Mason said opening the door and coming out into the garden.

"Thanks, I'll go check," Josef said and left the two senior detectives outside.

"I don't think he's helping that much," Mason said, "detective work is 90 percent questions. I don't think he gets that."

"I think he's doing okay actually," Bentworth said. "It was his idea to search the garden. He's slowly but surely figuring this thing out. Give him a chance, we've had three kidnappings in three days, we haven't had a chance to do anything yet."

"That's exactly my point Sir," Mason persisted, "we need to be working this with the best officers we've got."

"Point taken but none the less, I want him involved." Mason gave up and wandered off the talk to SOC.

Inside Josef sat with the Collridges, their notepad in front of him. He learned nothing more than he had with the Beachams, a sports shop, the DIY store, nothing more. Josef helped them make their own tape, asking for as much detail as they could.

Bentworth popped his head round the door to say he was leaving but the tape took another hour and by the time Josef was ready to leave it was after midnight and everyone else had gone except the uniformed PC assigned to the house. Josef left his instructions with the PC. He took the family computer, some pictures Mrs. Collridge had given him and then left himself.

The night had turned cold and it was starting to spot with rain. Josef cruised past the Beachams and saw a light on so he stopped. Mrs Beacham answered the door.

"Oh," she said, "come in. It's a bit late isn't it?" She was fully dressed and looked awake.

"I hoped you might be up," he said, "I'm afraid there have been some developments and I need some more of your time."

"Now?" she asked, frowning.

"If it's not a problem, is that OK? I can come back tomorrow."

"No that's fine. We can't sleep anyway."

In the kitchen Josef described the third kidnapping for the Beachams, they took it well. He left out as much detail as possible and when he'd finished he put the dictaphone on the table and asked them to listen to the tape. They listened but noted nothing of significance. Josef showed them pictures of Bryan, they were surprised by his likeness to Jamie but they didn't know and hadn't met the Collridge family. Josef thanked them and left.

Outside it was raining full pelt, Josef drove past the Martin's but there were no lights on so he didn't stop. Instead he drove home and crawled into bed, he didn't know what time it was when he finally fell asleep, but it was after two o'clock.

Chapter 14: K

K arrived at the cottage in good time, the roads had been empty and he'd missed most of the rain. Bryan was not awake yet so K took the time to carry the supplies into the cottage and put them away. By the time he wheeled the box containing Bryan in on the sack barrow the boy was stirring inside. He wheeled Bryan to the third cell. This one was built at the other end of the cottage away from the first two and had once been a small bedroom. K opened the box and helped the boy out, as he did this Bryan came round fully.

"What's happening? What're ya doin'?" he asked.

"Listen Bryan just relax," K said, "This is a kidnapping, you know what that is?"

The boy nodded drowsily.

"Well everything is ok. You're going to stay here for a few days until your parents give me some money. I'm gonna look after you because all I want is the money. See there's TV and games and food and everything you need right here," he said showing Bryan the room. "There's plenty to eat and drink here but don't pig out because I'm not going to be around tomorrow, but I'll be back on Friday OK." Bryan took a look round the room taking it in for the first time. It was small but not as compact as the others, it gave the impression of a crowded bedroom.

"You're not gonna hurt me or anyfin' then?" he asked, his eyes pleading.

"I promise all I want is the money," K said. "Now get changed into those pajamas and get comfortable, I'll make you a sandwich."

"I feel sick," the boy said. K took a plastic beaker from on top of the fridge and filled it with water from the tap.

"Drink this," he said. The boy took a sip. "I'll make a sandwich, you'll feel better after you've eaten something."

K locked the door and left the boy sat stunned on the bed, it really was amazing how these kids managed to deal with trauma. K checked in on Daniel first, he found the boy asleep with the TV on. K switched off the TV and locked the door. Jamie was awake and playing a game, he wasn't at all surprised when K came in.

"Hello there," K said, "everything OK." The boy looked like he was about to cry,

"I want my Mum," he said. K sat on the bed next to him.

"It's OK," he said. "I sent your Mum the ransom note today. She's going to pay me on Saturday. Then I can let you go, just three more days." The boy looked hopeful but said nothing.

"I'll leave you to play," K said. "Pancakes for breakfast?" he smiled. Jamie nodded and managed a half smile. K left and locked the door. Back in the kitchen he made one ham and one cheese sandwich, took a can of coke from the fridge and took it into Bryan. The boy was on the bed already playing the PlayStation 2. K put the sandwich on the bed next to him, Bryan paused the game picked up one half, checked the filling and took a bite.

"You're not gonna let me go are you?" he said, mouth full.

"What makes you say that," K said.

"I've seen your face," he said, staring at the paused game, not looking at K.

"That's OK," K said, "it's hard to remember a face after a few hours and I always wore a hat so you don't know what my hair looks like, besides you weren't really looking before. Go on," he continued. "Try to remember what I look like."

"Is that why you're wearing that mask now?" the boy asked.

K had spent a long time looking for the right mask, he'd opted for a rubber witch's mask that was too silly to be scary, especially on a man and it had a hat and hair that covered his entire head. Each boy had seen him at least once, maybe more times but kids seldom notice people unless they want to, and he figured with the mask they wouldn't really be able to give the police a good description of him. Daniel hadn't even commented on the mask and Jamie hadn't seen his face during the actual kidnap.

"Yup, and it makes me laugh when I look in the mirror," he said. "My real face looks just like it." The boy laughed.

"Pancakes for breakfast?" K asked.

"Cool," the boy answered, took a big bite of sandwich and unpaused the game.

K left the room, locking the door, and went into the study. He removed the typewriter and pulled a laptop from the drawer. He plugged it into the power and into a USB hub, to which both a printer and CD burner were connected. Then he went through the whole process of using fresh paper, envelopes, and stamps from a new book. He wrote the ransom note the same as the others and printed it out. Using gloved hands he printed the address on an envelope from a new packet and used a new, clean damp sponge to wet the glue. He used the same sponge to wet the glue on the stamp. When everything was done he put it into a clean freezer bag and left it on the table. He figured it would take the police at least one day to find out the gum on the stamp and envelope had been moistened with water.

K spent the next half hour playing solitaire on the laptop, unwinding, before he was tired enough to sleep.

K woke very early next morning and made a big plate of pancakes. He separated them onto three plates, covered them in blueberry syrup and tin foil and put them beside the bed in each room. When K left it was barely four in the morning but he needed to be sure to catch first collection. K stopped again at the postbox outside the sorting office in Vicarage Lane. He dropped the envelope out of the freezer bag straight into the letterbox. When K got back in the van he checked the clock, it was just after six and he needed food, so he drove to a local café on his way home. After a slap up breakfast with an extra cup of tea he drove home, put the van away, fell into the big soft leather sofa and was asleep in minutes.

Chapter 15: A New Team

Josef woke at seven with a thumping headache and fumbled through his bathroom cabinet for aspirin. He gulped two down with water and dived in the shower. He was getting dressed when his mobile rang, he didn't recognize the number.

"Josef Lindahl," he said

"Good morning," PC Whitlock said brightly. "I got your message, any progress or do you still want me to follow up with the families today?"

"Actually," Josef said, "I think it's best if you come to the briefing this morning, get the full update, what do you think?"

"Okay," she said.

"Meet me in the canteen in half an hour?" he asked.

"Sure," she said, and hung up.

Josef got dressed double quick and was in the car in ten minutes, he didn't notice his headache was gone until he was halfway to the station. When he arrived in the canteen Whitlock was not there, so he bought two cups of coffee and biscuits, and waited at an obvious table. Five minutes later she entered and came over.

"Good morning," she said. "Tired are you?"

"Exhausted actually why?" he asked, frowning.

"Your tie's on inside out," she said smiling. Josef looked down and saw the seam and the label in the back of his tie facing out.

"Nah that's a new fashion," he said.

"Yeah, I've read about that," she played along, "but you're supposed to do it with Armani ties, not sock shop!" She smiled.

"Ah," Josef frowned. "Well, I've got an Armani one just like this, must have got mixed up on my tie rack."

"Mmm," Whitlock said.

"Why did you want me to come to the meeting?" she asked.

"Well, there was another kidnapping last night," Josef said.

"Bloody hell," Whitlock said, "what happened?"

"A boy got taken on his way home from football training," he explained. "We found his football boots in the front garden."

"Shit," she said. "Were the parents home?"

"Yup."

"Right under their noses every time." She sat shaking her head staring into the coffee mug.

"Come on," Josef said. "We'll be late for the meeting."

They were first in the interview room so Josef had a chance to check his notes before the meeting started. When everyone was in the room Bentworth began.

"First things first. Let me tell you that I've been told to put together a public appeal and press conference. I've got to give a statement at twelve o'clock today and put together the appeal by six. I'm going to be talking to the families today to try and get them involved so any contact with them goes through me."

He looked around the room. "What this means is I'm going to be busy with this all day and I'm going to be tied up organizing telephone hotlines and dealing with the press, so my involvement from now on is going to be minimal. I'm appointing DI Mason lead, he'll be taking these briefings and keeping me up to speed on what's happening. Unfortunately this is turning into a political minefield and with the first deadline tomorrow." He looked again around the room, nods of understanding coming from various places. "Well, that said, let's hear what you've got."

Mason was first with his briefing.

"The cab office is clean, the estate agent was shut and the owner has an alibi, the cabbie was also clean. There are no cameras on that part of the High Street so we can't get a look at who left the note. Looks like it was just a well executed scam though I can't see why he just didn't post it.

"The analysis of the Beachams' computer showed nothing useful from either web activity or email. Nothing matched the Martins' computer except a search page and a few news pages from the BBC web site. The Beachams' ransom note is exactly the same as the first, just the cabbies prints on it and the PC who took it at the door," he concluded. "We didn't get anything from the first two families or scenes."

"The second ransom note was in a stamped addressed envelope like the first one," Josef said. "Like he was going to post it then didn't."

"Meaning?" Mason asked.

"Meaning why didn't he?" Josef said.

"Can't trust the post office to deliver anything on time?" Mason jibed. Josef ignored him.

DS Ward summed up the door to door.

"We didn't find anything, not a single thing," he said. "Not even the usual busy bodies who just want to complain about their neighbor." Bentworth nodded. Josef spoke next.

"I asked PC Whitlock to speak to the families of the victims, find out some of the family background, she turned up something interesting on Mr. Martin." Bentworth nodded.

"Fill us in Ms Whitlock," he said. She briefed them on the window breaking incident and the punishment.

"Thanks, sounds interesting and runs with the abuse theory," Bentworth said. "Dig around and talk to friends, in my experience other kids notice more than adults." He turned to Josef.

"Have you made any progress with the families or with the tapes?" he asked.

"Not yet," Josef said. "But I've got some ideas I want to follow up on, we'll see how that goes today."

"Good, well, that about sums it up and I've got to dash, dismissed," he said and as the others left and he was about go himself Mason held him back.

"Sir," he said, "I didn't even know that woman was involved in our case, he can't just go recruiting whoever he likes."

Bentworth smiled, "Sorry Brian, it was my call, I forgot to tell you."

"I don't want her involved, she could ruin things," Mason persisted, "she doesn't have the experience we need, it's bad enough having one newbie on this case." Bentworth though for a moment.

"She can partner Lindahl, you can partner Dave, but I want Lindahl involved in ALL the important interviews." Mason seemed pleased.

"Okay," he said.

"I mean it, ALL the important interviews," Bentworth persisted.

"Sir," Mason nodded and was gone.

Bentworth found Josef by the vending machine getting a sugar fix, Whitlock was with him.

"I want you two to work together on this, Brian and Dave are one team, you two are the other," he looked Josef in the eye. "Try to stay clear of him will you, if you have any problems you have my number, keep me posted on anything you think is significant or that Mason doesn't want to follow up. I might not be around but I'm still in charge, and Jo," he leaned in conspiratorially. "I would have put you in charge but you don't have rank, I think this is your kind of case, anyway, call me if you have any trouble."

When Bentworth had gone Josef was still shocked.

"You hear that?" he said looking at the door through which Bentworth had just disappeared.

"Sure did," Whitlock said in a teasing tone. "CDI's golden boy, Jo?"

"Give it up," he said casually, hoping he wasn't as red as he felt. "Wanna chocolate biscuit?"

They sat at a desk with the coffee and chocolate, Josef's notes in front of him.

"I've got a list of friends of Jamie Beacham, school friends and karate. I've got a list for Bryan Collridge as well, boys from football and school and the team coach's name and phone number. I think we should start with those. I'd like to be close by today anyway in case they get a note. I think if we have reason to go there we should."

"Don't you think Mason will be there?" Whitlock asked.

"If he has a reason, but as Bentworth said, we've got to go through him," Josef reasoned. "I don't think he'll want Mason dogging the victims for him. He needs this press appeal to go smoothly, that's what his job is about."

"But if Mason is so bad why has Bentworth put him in charge," she asked.

"He's a good detective. There are a million cases a man like Mason would be perfect for, this just isn't one of them."

"No gangsters," she said quietly and Josef laughed.

"We need to drop off the Collridges' computer to forensics and pick up and return the Martin's. Just a quick stop and it won't interfere with Bentworth's plans. Then I suggest we talk to Bryan's football coach first if we can, he's the PE teacher at Bryan's school."

"Sounds like a plan," she said.

They called the school, the forensics unit and the Martins', and then headed out to the car. After a short stop to swap computers they parked in Eastbourne Road near the Martins'. Mr. Martin opened the door.

"Hi," Josef said, "just stopping by to drop this off."

"Come in," Mr. Martin said. Josef carried the computer into the hall and Whitlock followed.

"We're really sorry to disturb you, we're not supposed to be here today with the press appeal and everything but we didn't turn up anything useful on this and we thought you might want this back."

"Actually it's nice you're 'ere," Mr. Martin said. "We're beginning to feel like you'd forgotten 'bout us, put it there." When the computer was on the floor he continued. "We feel so bloody useless now and we haven't seen anyone since you were 'ere the 'uver morning, we didn't even know there'd been an'uver kidnapping till your boss, Bentworth, called an' asked us to take part in his appeal; that's just shit," he concluded.

Josef could understand how the couple felt, he was sure they'd talked with no one but him since the night of the Kidnapping and now it seemed there wasn't even a PC in the house.

"I'm sorry," Josef said, his face passive, "I came by to talk with you last night but it was after one in the morning and the lights were all out so I didn't knock." Mrs. Martin appeared in the kitchen doorway but said nothing.

"I wish you 'ad," Mr. Martin interrupted, "we don't really sleep no more."

"Anyway, I didn't stop," Josef continued. "But I wanted to tell you about the third kidnapping and to play you a tape made by that family, maybe there's a connection between you."

"Have ya got it with ya?" Mr Martin asked eagerly, "we'd feel more bloody useful doing sommin' 'uver 'an just sitting round scratchin' our asses."

"Actually I do," Josef said theatrically patting a pocket. "Trouble is, like I said, we've been told not to talk to you today so it'd have to be hush hush."

"Who came up with that bollocks?" Mr Martin said. "We won't say nuffin', we can do it in the kitchen, put the kettle on luv."

"Nice moves," Whitlock said as they walked into the kitchen.

When they were all seated at the table, coffee in hand, Josef played the tape. The Martins sat listening intently with the notepad in front of them. When the tape had finished they looked blank.

"Sorry," Mrs. Martin said. "I can't think of a single thing." Josef took out the photos and laid them on the table, they both looked carefully. Mrs. Martin shook her head.

"You know, I'm sure I've 'eard that name Longmarsh Boys FC before," Mr. Martin said. Josef's heart skipped a beat. "Ya know, maybe I just read in the paper, I can't 'fink where I've 'eard it, but I'm sure I 'av."

"Please, try and think," Whitlock encouraged, "it's very important." They sat in silence for another five full minutes, Mr. Martin's eyes screwed tight shut. When he finally opened them he looked defeated and shook his head.

"Nah, nuffin', just can't 'fink of it."

"It's OK," Josef tried to relax the situation. "If you can't think of something directly then sometimes it's best to let your subconscious work on it. Try thinking about times you talked football, maybe with Daniel, or watched it together. Other times you might have heard the name, or read the paper again, your subconscious can sometimes lead you to the memory."

"Whatever," Mr. Martin smiled, "you're the shrink."

"You know it might just be that you want to recognize something, you might never have heard that name," Josef added.

"I know," Mr. Martin said, "I'll 'fink about it"

"Thanks for your time," Josef said collecting his things together. "We really appreciate it."

"So do we," Mr. Martin said, pulling his wife close to him.

Whitlock opened the front door and as they were about to leave Mrs. Martin spoke, "Detective," she said. "Can I ask you something about tomorrow?"

Josef nodded, "Of course."

"We've only managed to get eighteen thousand pounds, and that's with Michael's boss giving us five thousand, we just can't get any more." She stopped there and Josef could feel the question coming but he said nothing and allowed the woman to ask it.

"Do you think that's enough?"

Mr. Martin pulled his wife even closer, they needed something from Josef now and he could see the pressure they'd been under.

"That's a lot of money," he said. He walked back into the house and stood directly before them, facing them both. "You know, I don't think this man wants to hurt those boys. You know what I think, is that this man is after hurting you two, and I think the pain you're in right now is what he wants. About the money, I'm really sorry, I don't know if that's gonna be enough money or not, but there's a long time between now and then, and I'm still hoping we can find a connection and catch him."

The Martins' stood close together and silent, Josef couldn't tell if they'd found any comfort from what he'd said. He moved towards the door again.

"Thanks," he said. "Call me straight away if you think of anything."

"Thank you for being so honest," Mrs. Martin said. "I had to ask you know, in case you're not here tomorrow."

"We'll be here," Josef said.

As they walked back to the car he noticed Whitlock looking at him.

"Maybe I should take a degree in Psychology if it makes people that nice," she said.

"Doesn't make everyone nice," Josef denied, embarrassed. "Look at Hannibal Lector. And besides, if I was that nice you'd tell me your name."

Whitlock smiled and was silent for a moment.

"I hope he remembers something," she said as they got in the car, "I feel so bad for them, did you see there wasn't anyone with them in the house."

"I know, and like I said, this guy's probably gonna take a drive by sometime soon and without anyone on watch, how are we going catch him if he does?"

"I meant they shouldn't be on their own," she reprimanded.

"That too," he agreed.

"Where now?" she asked as Josef pulled away from the curb. He checked his watch.

"The Collridges'," he said.

"You're gonna get us hung."

"Nah, Bentworth likes me," Josef said smiling, "and besides, it's about time for first post."

They found a space in Markham Road about three doors down and opposite the Collridges'. As they got out Whitlock saw the postman twenty or so houses away on the opposite side.

"Looks like you got the timing right," she said pointing.

"Perfect," Josef smiled.

They walked up to the door and knocked,

"Why are we here?" Whitlock asked.

"Leave that to me," Josef said as the door opened. Mrs Collridge stood in the doorway,

"Oh, hello," she said, opening the door wider.

"We're sorry to come and bother you like this, I know we're not supposed to be around here today but I've mislaid the list you gave me yesterday, the list of Bryan's friends." Josef patted his pockets and shrugged.

"It's OK," Mrs Collridge answered, "I'll write it again for you. Please come in, have a seat." She showed them into the living room where a toddler in a sagging baby grow was playing in a playpen. Josef pulled his notepad and pen from his jacket.

"Please, if you could write the list in here I won't loose it again," he said handing the notebook and pen to her.

"I'll just get the phone book, I've only got a couple of phone numbers but they're home numbers. Some of these kids have mobiles, Bryan didn't though," she said and left the room. When she came back she took the pad and started writing.

"I spoke to the parents of the first boy that was kidnapped this morning," Josef said. "He thought he'd heard the name Longmarsh Boys FC somewhere before." Mrs. Collridge looked up.

"Really, where?" she asked.

"He couldn't remember. That's what I was going to ask you, do they get much of a mention in the local paper or anything?"

"They do, but you'd have to be a football nutter to find it," she said. "It's only ever in the tiny letters they use when they put the scores in once a week," she measured tiny between finger and thumb. "I don't think they've ever been written about or anything."

Josef nodded and Mrs. Collridge went back to writing.

"He thought he might just have read the name in the paper, probably just seen it there a couple of times," Josef concluded.

When Mrs. Collridge had finished the list she handed the notepad back to Josef.

"Thanks," he said. "We're really sorry to have bothered you."

"It's okay," Mrs. Collridge shrugged. "It's nice to have company."

"Your husband not in?" Whitlock asked concerned.

"No, he's gone to the bank to talk to them. We thought it'd be best if I waited here for the post, in case we got a note." Josef wandered over to the window and looked out.

"Do you know what time the post usually comes?" Whitlock asked.

"Didn't he tell you?" Mrs. Collridge replied, turning her head towards Josef, who looked embarrassed. "'Round twelve most days."

Josef looked at his watch.

"We should be going, we're not supposed to be here today," he said. There was a noise of someone nearly falling downstairs and after a moment a tall thin PC burst into the living room, he looked at Josef and Whitlock.

"Just seen the postman a couple of doors away," he said, "someone's stopped him in the street." They ran for the door.

Mason thought he'd been clever, he'd stopped the postman before he'd got to the Collridges' house so he hadn't disturbed them as Bentworth demanded. But he hadn't predicted that a uniformed PC, Lindahl, Whitlock and Mrs Collridge would come charging from the house yelling.

"What the fuck," Ward said. Mason turned.

"That shit," he fumed.

As soon as Josef recognized the pair he stopped running.

"It's okay," Josef said. "They're with us. They're policemen." Mrs. Collridge stood confused in the gateway.

"Let's go back inside," Whitlock said soothingly to her, "just a bit of confusion that's all." She led the lady back inside throwing a harsh look at Josef.

"Fix it," she said. Josef walked over to Mason.

"Just what the fuck do you think you're doing in there," Mason attacked.

"I lost the list I got from them last night and I just stopped by to get it again, find out who I'm supposed to be interviewing today," Josef said sarcastically. "So what're you doing here?"

"What does it look like," Mason snapped, "Getting the ransom note." Josef noticed for the first time he was holding a plain white envelope and was wearing gloves.

"You know interfering with the post is a crime." Josef wagged a finger at Mason. "Tut tut tut, you could be prosecuted."

"Fuck you," Mason said and walked towards the Collridges' house.

Inside the house they opened the ransom note. It was the same as the others but had a deadline of Sunday. Josef checked the postmark, it was the same as on the first note. He noticed that the stamp looked like the kind you lick and the envelope too. It didn't have the small straight flap like the ready gummed business type. This had the triangle flap that you lick yourself.

"Take Mrs. Collridge in the living room," Whitlock said to the uniformed PC. "Call her husband and don't leave her alone until he gets here." The PC nodded and led the stunned lady away.

They stood around the kitchen table looking at the note laid out on it,

"It's weird that he can make the deadline on Saturday and Sunday," Whitlock said. "I know you can transfer the money anytime but it doesn't give them long to get any money together."

"He doesn't care about that," Mason said, "he has to keep things goin' or we'll catch him up. If we were gonna get somthin' on that account or on the notes it'd take a few days. I think he'll see what he gets, maybe chance another kid or two."

"I've told you it's not about the money," Josef said exasperated. "It's about the parents. It's a question, the money is just the answer, it's not for profit."

"Yeah, it's the answer all right," Mason sneered, "no money, no kid." Josef turned to Whitlock.

"We should go," he said. "You," he addressed Mason, "should get that to forensics. See if he licked it." Mason turned the envelope in his hand and looked at the flap.

When they left the house Josef started venting his anger against Mason.

"What an absolute dick head," he fumed. "What the hell did I ever do to him?" Whitlock put an arm across his chest to stop him at the curb, they let a car pass before crossing to the Renault.

"Calm Down," she said, "he just wants to be the one who catches this guy, and so do you."

When they were seated in the car Josef pulled his mobile from his jacket and rang Bentworth, it cut to voice mail so Josef left a short message.

"Cock up at the Collridges', sorry. Call me for details but I think you should give them a call and make sure they're okay. They got a ransom note." He hung up.

"Nicely put," Whitlock said.

"Thanks."

"Where now?" she asked.

"Don't know about you but I'm hungry."

"Then you can buy me lunch."

"Only if you tell me your name."

"Call yourself a detective?" she teased.

"I can find out easily enough, but it wouldn't be the same," Josef smiled.

"Oh I see," she taunted, "macho thing eh? I've got to give in have I?"

"No, it's just..." He stopped and sighed, then turned and looked her straight in her beautiful green eyes. "Please," he said, feeling like someone about to pop the big question.

"Ms Whitlock, tell me your first name." She looked at him for long moment then smiled,

"Now that was close," she said.

Chapter 16: K

When K woke up he had neck ache. The sofa was lovely and plush and comfortable, perfect for sleeping on, but the cushions were too hard and you really needed a pillow. He checked the clock on the DVD, it was a little after eleven. K had nothing special to do today so he showered and dressed at leisure, enjoying the time.

K pottered round emptying the rubbish and tidying up but was soon bored. He decided to have lunch out, and as he'd missed having the pizza in the restaurant he thought a good sit down meal was in order. He collected his things together and drove the Jaguar out of the garage.

While he drove idly round thinking of a good place to eat he found himself passing the Collridges' house. A couple were leaving the house and crossing the road. The woman stopped the man from walking out into the road, they let K pass in front of them before crossing. He managed a look at both of them, they seemed to be engrossed in each other, the man angry about something and looking back at the house. K wondered if they were police. He thought they probably were although they appeared to him to be on the young side. He drove on and headed for the High Street.

K opted for an Indian meal, something he hadn't done in a long time. He ordered far too much but ate some of everything, each different taste bringing back memories for him. By the time he was finished he was so full of both food and emotion that he felt exhausted. He drove the short way home with the window of the Jaguar down. When he was back inside the house he slipped a CD into the player. The music echoed round the empty house and K sat back in the sofa and let the sounds of REM flood over him.

'Oh life, is bigger, it's bigger than you,

You are not me, the lengths that I would go to,

The distance in your eyes, oh no I've said too much,

I set it up.

As the song burst into the chorus K allowed his mind to wander and in the mess of thoughts that filled his head he fell asleep.

Chapter 17: At Last

"So where are you taking me for lunch?" Whitlock asked as they turned out of Markham Road.

"Don't worry," Josef reassured her, "you'll love it."

Five minutes later they pulled up outside Pete's fish and chip shop on Vicarage Lane.

"Classy," Whitlock teased.

"Yup, and you know what the best thing about eating here is?"

"Go on," she said.

"We can walk up to the sorting office while we eat," he smiled.

"It's not good for you, you know, you'll get stomach ulcers."

"Actually it is," Josef smiled. "The Germans do it all the time. In fact most of their cafes don't have many seats, just high tables you stand at. Except in the tourist areas," he added.

"Really?" She sounded disapproving.

"Anyway," he gestured to the door, "we can try it."

They ordered fish and chips twice and as they walked he watched her eating the fish with a wooden fork, carefully removing the batter and pushing it to the side of the paper.

"Seems like a lot of trouble to go to," he said, pulling a large chunk of fish from the paper and nearly throwing it into his mouth before he dropped it. She stopped to watch the juggling act.

"Mmmm," she conceded, "I guess it would."

"Meaning," he said, not offended but interested.

"Meaning a friend of mine has a Labrador who eats just like that. God forbid anyone should throw food in your direction." She smiled and he knew she was teasing.

"Don't hold your food out too far. I'll have your fingers off," he said laughing.

When they reached the sorting office they threw the remains of lunch in the yellow street bin outside. Josef noticed that her paper seemed as full as when they'd left the chip shop.

"Nice?" he enquired.

"Lovely actually," she said, rooting in her bag for a tissue. She offered one to Josef, he took it and wiped his fingers and mouth, then binned it.

"Come on," he said, opening the door for her. They showed their warrant cards to the receptionist and were taken through to the Post Masters office.

He welcomed them. It was not the same man that Josef had spoken to on his previous visit.

"Please sit down," he said. "What can I help you with? Is this about the letter that was delivered in Eastbourne Road?" Josef nodded.

"Unfortunately the information we were given last time isn't enough, we need some more details," he said.

"Such as?" The postmaster raised his eyebrows.

"We've had another letter with the same postmark as before, that postmark means the letter was sorted here?" He unfolded a photocopy of the cover of the envelope the first ransom note had come in. He handed it to the postmaster who glanced at it, then passed it back.

"Yes," the postmaster conceded.

"So where could it have been posted. Exactly?" Josef stressed. The postmaster began riffling through his desk drawers as he spoke.

"If the postmark is ours that means this office was the first to sort it. In that case it must have been collected by one of our vans." He pulled a map from a draw and spread it on the table. The map showed the Longmarsh area with a large part shaded in grey.

"This is our pick up zone in grey, somewhere inside this area." He tapped the map. Josef leaned back in his chair.

"Now we're getting somewhere," he said. "How many postboxes are there?"

"About a hundred and fifty give or take."

"Shit," Josef said. "Too many to stake out them all. Give or take what?"

"The odd vandal," the postmaster replied. "You could put someone in the vans though," he offered.

"What? How many vans collect?" Josef asked excitedly.

"Three vans, they start about five and finish about six thirty. If you had a man in each van then he could check the mail as it was collected, you know what you're looking for right?" he added. Josef's smile was wide and genuine.

"Yeah we do. That's a great idea. The thing is that this is gonna be a short notice job, we can't let you know until the night before if we want to go out with the drivers, would that be okay."

"I guess so," the postmaster conceded. "But they have to be gone by five to make it round."

"That's great, have you got a mobile we can call you on if we need to." The postmaster pulled out a silver case from his pocket and removed a business card and gave it to Josef, he offered another to Whitlock, who took it.

"Thanks very much for your time," Josef said and stood "and for the help."

"My pleasure," the postmaster replied.

"Can I have the map?" Josef asked, pointing.

"Sure," the postmaster said, folding the map and handing it to Josef on the way out.

They left the sorting office and began walking back to the car.

"Feels like we're getting somewhere at least," Josef said.

"It's nice you keep saying we, but I don't feel like I'm being much help," Whitlock said.

"You bloody are," Josef snapped. "Last time I was here I didn't get the time of day; this time they couldn't be more helpful," he looked at her. "You bring out the best in people," he smiled.

"Stop it I'm serious," she blushed.

"So am I," Josef countered. "Believe me you're helping."

They walked in silence to the car. As Josef drove back towards the Collridges' Whitlock spoke.

"You think we're making progress?" she said.

"Yes I do. If K takes another kid tonight then he's gonna post a ransom note. If we get a fix on which post box he used then we might be able to catch him next time."

"K," she said quizzically.

"It's a shrink thing."

"You really think he'd use the same post box every time?" she continued.

"I don't know. Maybe he uses the one closest the kid's houses, maybe he uses the same one, maybe it's just random, but it's worth a try and if we have to watch every post box on the map to catch him then I think we should."

"Are we going to the school?" she said.

"Yeah. I thought we could divide the list in half and see where we got."

"Okay."

As they drove into the school car park Josef's mobile rang, he looked at the number on the screen.

"Shit." He looked up. "It's Bentworth." He accepted the call, "Josef Lindahl."

"Jo, sorry I didn't call back earlier, I was giving the press conference and I had my phone turned off."

"How was it Sir?" Josef asked.

"It was okay, few too many rumors flying around though. I had to be careful, looks like it's gonna be big news though."

"That good news?"

"Well I think so from your point of view, there's gonna be a lot more resources available anyway. Mason told me what happened. He was waiting here for me. What do you have to say about it?"

"Sorry Sir?" Josef ventured. There was silence then Bentworth sighed.

"Anything new?" he asked.

"Well, we followed up with the post office on the Collridges' ransom note. They say it must have been posted in one of the letterboxes they pick up from. They say it must have been the same with the first note too." Bentworth was silent a moment.

"How many letterboxes?" he asked.

"About a hundred and fifty Sir, but the Post Master says there are only three vans do the collecting. We could put a man in each van to check the post as it's collected. We could find which letterbox he uses."

"It's worth a try," Bentworth said, "anything else?"

"Not yet Sir."

"Good work, keep me posted."

Josef dropped the phone in his lap and parked the car properly.

"You jammy sod!" Whitlock said.

"Not really," Josef countered. "I just knew that Mason would go running to Bentworth instead of doing something useful. I, on the other hand, told him to call the Collridges and fix things," he smirked. "I was looking out for him not me."

"I'm not sure I like you so much anymore, you're a bit of a manipulator on the side," she said.

Josef smiled.

"I think you've been a manipulator since you were about twelve," he said.

"Piss off."

They walked into the school and asked for Mr. Ryder. They introduced themselves to the secretary who informed them that Mr. Ryder was teaching for the whole afternoon and would only be available after three thirty when school finished. Josef handed the list to the secretary who checked the boy's names.

"Sorry Detective, only four of these boys attend this school," she said. "Would you like to see them?"

"Yes please," Josef smiled, and waited while the secretary went off to fetch them. She returned with the boys after ten minutes.

"Would you like to use the sick room?" she asked.

"That'd be great thanks," Josef said and turned to Whitlock, "take your pick."

"I'll take these two," she put her hands on the boy's heads.

"Okay, you get the sick room. I'll use the waiting area."

Josef sat with the two boys in the waiting area.

"My name's Josef Lindahl," he said, "what're your names?"

The smaller of the two, a skinny boy with curly blond hair spoke first.

"James Dickson," he said.

"Where do you live James?"

"Markham Road," he said.

"Really, what number?"

"Two 'undred an' ninety seven."

"And what about you?" Josef said, looking at the other boy. He was taller and thicker set and had the look of a bully about him, though Josef didn't know why he thought that.

"Alan Ingham," the bigger boy said, his voice already loosing its childish quality. "I live at three twenty three Cutter's Point, on Katherine Road."

"And you two boys play football with Bryan Collridge?" They nodded.

"When was the last time you saw him?"

"At football practice yesterday," James said. The boy other nodded.

"Did you see him leave?" James shook his head but Alan nodded.

"Was he alone?"

"Yeah," he said.

"James, you live in Markham Road, why didn't you walk with him?"

"I live up by the school, he lives all the way down the other end," he said.

"Have you seen Bryan hanging around with anyone lately? Older boys maybe or an adult? Talking to strangers? Has he said anything to you about anyone following him?" Both boys shook their heads.

Inside the sick room Whitlock sat the other two boys down.

"Okay," she said, "what're your names boys?"

"Michael Murphy," the first answered, a tinge of Irish in his voice to match his dark hair, dark eyes and pale complexion.

"And where do you live Michael?"

"Second Avenue Miss, number twenty one."

"And you?" she said writing in her notebook.

"Mark Dipworth Miss"

"Where do you live Mark?"

"Just behind the school on Grays Lane Miss."

"What number Mark?"

"Eleven"

"Okay," she smiled. "That's the hard part. You both play football with Bryan Collridge?"

"I do miss," said Mark, "but Michael doesn't."

"So how do you know Bryan," Whitlock spoke directly to Michael.

"Best friend Miss"

"Good. So when did you last see Bryan, Mark?"

"Football practice yesterday Miss."

"Did you see him go home?"

"No miss, I went before Bryan Miss."

"Okay what about you Michael."

"After school yesterday Miss, we had a kick about in the playground."

"Did he seem alright to you Michael, not worried about anything?"

"No miss."

"Did he seem alright to you Mark, at football practice?"

"Yes Miss."

"Have either of you seen him talking to anyone or acting strange?"

The boys shook their heads.

"Has he been worried about anything lately?" Michael flashed a glance indirectly at Mark. Whitlock read the boy perfectly.

"Sorry Mark, could you wait outside." She waited until he'd left the room and the door was closed before she continued.

"Is there something you want to tell me Michael?" she said.

"No miss"

"Come on," she insisted. "What do you know? You won't get into trouble, you'll be helping us."

"Bryan made me promise Miss," he stalled.

"It's really OK Michael - you won't get into any trouble at all I promise."

"We were in the park not last Saturday but the one before. We were playin' footy with some big kids and this guy who was watchin' us talked to Bryan. He was going round findin' good football players for Fulham Miss"

"He said he was a talent scout?"

"That's right Miss. A talent scout for Fulham Miss. He wanted Bryan to have a try out. He told Bryan that Bryan's mum had to sign somfink and that it would cost a lot of money. Bryan said he'd ask his mum 'cause they don't have much money and the man said he should pick a good time when she was in a good mood. The man said he could come over and talk to her himself if that was better."

"Did Bryan know the man?"

"No Miss, the man took Bryan's phone number and address and said he'd call Bryan's mum.

"Did he say anything else?"

"No miss"

"Can you tell me what this man looked like?"

"He was old miss?"

"How old?" The boy thought about it for a long time.

"I don't know miss, about the same age as Mr. Marlow."

"Who's Mr. Marlow?"

"He was my teacher last year Miss."

"What makes you think he's the same age as Mr. Marlow?"

"They've got the same kind of face miss, same wrinkles."

"Do you think you'd recognize the man if you saw him again?"

"I think so Miss"

"Did you or Bryan see the man again after that Saturday?"

"Not me miss, but Bryan saw him in the park last Sunday. He told me the man was gonna talk to his mum soon."

"Did Bryan say who was in the park with him on Sunday?"

"No miss"

"Okay. You wait here I'm gonna call the other policeman in to talk to you." She left the room and closed the door after her.

"Josef," she called, "can I have a word with you." He came over. "You need to hear this," she said and opened the door for him to go in.

Whitlock took the boy through it all again with Josef listening. When she'd finished they went outside again.

"That's bloody fantastic," Josef said, "great work."

"So what now?" she asked.

"Well I'm gonna call Bentworth and tell him to stall on the appeal while he sends us an artist here to work with the boy. Then we're gonna talk to Mrs Collridge and see if she knows who Bryan was with on Sunday."

"Don't you think we'd better check and see if there really was a talent scout from Fulham talking to Bryan," Whitlock suggested.

"Ah, good thinking. I'll ask Bentworth to delegate that but if he wants a sketch in time for his appeal he'll still have to send an artist," he said pulling the mobile from his pocket. "You wanna finish with the other boys?"

She looked at him incredulously then sighed and walked over to where the boys were sitting in the waiting area.

Chapter 18: Public Appeal

Bentworth had given his statement of kidnap and ongoing investigation to the press at lunchtime. It had gone okay but he was irritated by how little information they had to offer. Just the basic outline of the case, he been waiting until this evening to give out more details. One of the problems was that once you opened an appeal you had a thousand callers offering information, ninety nine percent of which turned out to be useless but you still had to spend time administering and handling it all.

In front of his computer Bentworth sighed, he was on his third draft, it was simple, short and to the point. He stretched his neck, shifted in his seat and began another read through. His mobile rang.

"Bentworth," he said without checking the number.

"Sir it's Lindahl, we've got something," Josef said excitedly.

"Go on," Bentworth hurried. He thought that Josef probably wouldn't call him unless what he had was good. He hoped it was.

"Sir, we've been up to the Bryan Collridge's school and questioned some of his friends. One of the kids, who described himself as Bryan's 'best friend', told us that Bryan had been approached by a football scout from Fulham while he was playing football in the park Sir, twice. A week ago last Saturday and then again just last Sunday. The friend says the football scout said he was going to talk to Bryan's Mum." Josef waited.

"Did he talk to her?" Bentworth asked.

"Don't know Sir. Our next stop is to talk to the Mother, see if she knows about the football scout and if she knows who Bryan was with last Sunday, maybe one of them saw something."

"This friend wasn't there?"

"Not the second time, Bryan just told him about it."

"What's the boy's name?"

"Michael Murphy."

Bentworth thought for a moment, then decided.

"I'll need the details ASAP, but I need you to chase this. I'll bring Mason up to speed and have him come take the boy's statement. Can you arrange for a guardian to be there, if not one of the parents then a teacher or someone just for now. Also can you find out if the boy can give us a description of the football scout, if he can." Josef interrupted.

"He says he can Sir."

"Good. I'll send an artist, get moving as soon as you can and let me know if you come up with anything else."

"Yes Sir, one more thing Sir. Can you just have someone check with Fulham football club to make sure there wasn't a scout in the area or talking to Bryan?"

"Will do. And Josef, bloody good work," he said, "thanks."

"Don't thank me Sir, it was Whitlock."

"Pass it on," Bentworth said and hung up.

After learning nothing helpful from the other boys Whitlock rejoined Josef, who had just finished talking with the headmaster.

"You ready?" she asked.

"Just about," he said. "Everything is set up here for Mason to come get the boy's statement, let's go talk to Mrs. Collridge. By the way," he continued, holding the door open for her, "Bentworth said to tell you good work."

Bentworth slid his mobile onto the table and sat looking at it. It wasn't the first time he'd considered himself lucky to have brought Josef into this. Lindahl was turning out to be real detective material and Bentworth liked him, liked his ways. Bentworth could understand the logic of Josef's mind even he couldn't think that way himself.

He didn't smile at the idea of talking to Mason though, but he picked up the phone. He turned it in his hand a few times before pulling up Mason's number and calling.

"Sir," he heard.

"Brian, Josef has had a bit of luck at Bryan Collridge's school, with a school friend of his. I need you to go take a statement from the boy, his name is Michael Murphy, he's waiting at the school for you. He says Bryan Collridge was approached by a football scout in the park a couple of weeks ago and again last week. I need this statement here as soon as you can Brian, I need it for the appeal. I've asked Lindahl to arrange a parent or guardian and I'm sending an artist, can you take care of that for me?"

"Sir," Mason said.

"Good, Lindahl probably won't be there when you get there, he's chasing up a few things for me, I need you to get everything together for me and get it back here."

"No probs Sir," Mason said.

"Thanks," Bentworth said and hung up. He didn't want to lie to Mason, though while he didn't technically lie, he'd dressed up a chore, and he knew he'd have to pay the price of that deceit later, but right now he had too many other things to deal with and he didn't want to waste time massaging egos. Bentworth slid his mobile onto the table again and picked up his desk phone, looked at it and put it down again. He looked at his computer screen, sighed, picked up the desk phone and dialed uniform.

Mason was waiting in the car when DS Ward came back carrying the bag with Sandwiches, crisps and drinks in.

"I hate diets," Ward said getting into the passenger side. These low calorie sarnies taste like," he paused thinking, "actually they've got no taste."

"We've gotta go to Bryan Collridge's school, Lindahl turned something up with one of the boy's friends and Bentworth wants us to take over and get a statement for him. He needs it before the appeal," Mason said.

"Why can't Lindahl do it?" Ward asked.

"Because Bentworth wants us to," Mason said proudly.

"I don't have my notes," Mason lied, "where did the boy go to school?"

He mentally kicked himself in the teeth, he'd heard where the boy went to school but he'd been so wrapped up in being angry with Lindahl he'd forgotten. It was stupid and unprofessional and definitely not like him, he needed to shelve his dislike of Lindahl before he made another mistake, maybe one that would get him into trouble.

"Highfield School," Ward said ruffling through his notebook.

Mason set off without speaking. Ward peeled the plastic cover from his petrol station sandwich and extracted half a limp, wet looking ham salad sandwich that didn't seem to have any ham in it. Or any salad for that matter.

"So what did Lindahl get?" he asked, taking a bite of the anemic looking butty.

"Don't know, something about the Collridge boy being approached by a football scout in the local park." Mason didn't turn his head, instead he concentrated on driving.

"Bloody hell, you think our man poses as a football scout. Makes sense, all the boys are the right age to fall for a stunt like that. 'Ere, you want your sarnie?" Ward said holding out a rather better looking BLT in brown bread. He hoped Mason would say no.

"Just the drink," Mason said. Ward opened the can and handed it to Mason, who took a long draft then put it between his legs.

"It would make sense," he said.

"Too right," Ward agreed. "You gonna eat this?" he asked again, BLT in hand.

"Nah."

"Cool," he said, and threw the remains of his albino ham salad back in its plastic container and opened the BLT. He took a bite, opened a bag of diet crisps, threw in a few of those and munched. He popped his diet coke and took a swig. They drove to the school to the sound of Ward eating.

They found Michael Murphy waiting in reception with the headmaster and were shown into the sick room.

"So you're Michael?" Ward said happily. "I'm detective sergeant Ward, and this is detective inspector Mason," he said, emphasizing the rank and well as the name. The boy looked indifferent.

"Michael's mother is a child minder," the headmaster said. "She can't be here but she was happy for me to be present, I am sort of the boy's guardian while he's at school, is that OK?"

"Fine," Mason said flatly, studying the boy.

"Okay," Ward said to Michael, his notebook resting on his knee, "why don't you tell us everything you told the other officers."

Josef and Whitlock arrived at the Collridges' in minutes. Mr. Collridge answered the door. He didn't say anything but held the door open for them to come in. Josef headed for the kitchen where he could hear Mrs. Collridge talking to the baby. He pushed the door open. The baby was in a high chair and the woman was feeding her some mushy peas from a plastic spoon. She looked up.

"Oh, err, would you like a cup of tea?" she asked putting the spoon back in the bowl.

"You carry on," Whitlock said smiling. She leaned forward and touched the baby's hair. "I'll do it."

"Would you? Thanks, tea and coffee and sugar are in the end cupboard," she said pointing. "Cups are in that one." While Whitlock filled the kettle and set about making tea Josef and Mr. Collridge sat down.

"Mr. Collridge," Josef said. "We've talked to one of Bryan's friends from school, Michael Murphy, do you know him?" Mr. Collridge looked sad.

"I'm finding out I didn't know anything about Bryan," he said.

"So you didn't?"

"No."

"Yes you do," Mrs. Collridge interrupted, "the small Irish boy from round the back on Plaistow Road. Bryan hangs around with him a lot when he's not playing football," she said.

"Oh, I know who you mean, I've seen him around," Mr. Collridge said.

"Michael claims that he was in the park with Bryan Saturday before last, can you remember that?" Josef said.

"I work Saturdays," Mr. Collridge said, "Sorry."

"I think so," Mrs. Collridge offered. "He didn't have a match that Saturday so he went to the park to practice with Michael"

"Are you sure?" Josef asked.

"I think so, you could check with his coach if that was the day they didn't have a game." Josef made a note.

"And what about last Sunday, do you know who he was with last Sunday?" Mr. Collridge looked blank.

"We did a big shopping last Sunday, Bryan never comes," he said. "I don't know what he did. Sometimes they have a game in the park, loads of older kids, you know, seventeen eighteen nineteen that age, they get together in the park and have a match. Sometimes they let Bryan play even though they don't let any other youngsters play, they like him."

"But you don't know if that's where he was?" Josef asked. Mr Collridge shook his head. "Do you know any of the lads who play football in the park on Sundays?"

"Sorry," he said, shrugging. They were silent for a moment, watching as Mrs. Collridge coaxed the baby to eat another spoonful of peas. Whitlock handed out the teas.

"Did you know that your son was approached by a football scout, you know, they find good young players for big clubs?" Josef asked at length. Mr. Collridge looked up from his tea.

"Is that what this is about? You think he was spotted by a talent scout?" he said puzzled.

"Bryan's friend Michael says that a man who claimed to be a talent scout spoke to Bryan in the park on the Saturday before last."

"Impossible," Mr. Collridge said. "He would have told us." Mrs. Collridge nodded her agreement.

"He would," she said.

"What if this man told Bryan that try outs would cost a lot of money. Bryan told the man you didn't have much money, so the man told Bryan not to say anything to you, and that he would talk to you himself. Does that sound possible?" Josef said.

Mrs. Collridge looked at her husband. She put down the bowl and picked up the baby. Josef could see tears in her eyes. Mr. Collridge nodded.

"I'm sorry," Josef said, "I know this is painful, but you understand that I need to know about it. If this man knew enough about you he may have been able to manipulate Bryan, make him believe he was going to talk to you and use that to lure Bryan away." Mrs. Collridge cuddled her baby tightly even though she struggled a bit, then put her back in the high chair. She forced her eyes to meet Josef's. They were full of tears.

"Yeah," she said. "Bryan might've believed him."

Josef held her gaze.

"Thank you," he said. She returned her attention to feeding the baby.

"Do you think that's what happened?" Mr. Collridge said.

"Yeah I think so. We've got someone checking to see if there was a scout in the area, but my guess is it's our man."

"So what now?" Mrs. Collridge asked.

"Michael is going to try and help us draw a picture of the man," Josef said.

"Michael saw him?" Mr. Collridge interrupted.

"Yes. But if there's no luck with the picture we're going to have to try and find some of the lads who play football in the park on Sundays, see if they saw anything or got a look at him. Michael said Bryan spoke to the man again in the park on Sunday." Mr. Collridge said nothing. Josef decided to change the subject.

"How did it go at the bank?" he asked.

"What?" he replied.

"When we were here earlier your wife said you were at the bank," Josef said.

"Yeah, well it didn't do any good. Between Bridget's parents and my parents and us we can just about scrape together ten thousand pounds. The bank don't want to help us, we're a month behind on the mortgage since Christmas and the only thing they say we could do is auction the house and they'll lend us the money till we get it. We'd get about forty thousand profit if we got a good price on the house but we'd never be able to buy again at today's prices, I don't earn enough. Bridget's Mum says we could live with her." He stopped there and Josef waited to see if he would go on. When he didn't Josef said,

"Will you auction the house?"

"Detective," he struggled for Josef's name.

"Josef," Josef offered.

"Josef," he said, "The only thing I have." He corrected himself, reaching out to touch his wife's shoulder, "We have, is our kids. There's an estate agent coming to look around this afternoon, he's a friend of my boss's and he says he'll do it for free and he'll really push for a good price at auction. He's gonna make sure everyone knows why we're selling and that we need the money. We're gonna do it Saturday and I can call the bank man and he'll fix the money even though the bank is shut."

Mrs. Collridge put down the bowl and spoon and turned to face Josef.

"I'm sorry," Josef offered.

"I know," she said, her eyes still full of tears.

"We think it's fantastic what you're doing," Whitlock said. "We know you'd do anything to get Bryan back. So would we, and believe me when I say we're doing everything we can. We're gonna get this guy and nail his balls to the wall."

Somehow, Josef thought, she made the words sound sympathetic and threatening at the same time. He wondered what crisis management training was. They sat together in silence for a while.

"Where is the PC we left on watch?" Josef asked.

"Upstairs in the kid's bedroom," Mr. Collridge said. "He said you told him to watch the street."

"I did," Josef said and got up. "I'll just check in on him."

Josef found the PC sitting on the bed with a small pair of binoculars and a note pad.

"What've you got?" he asked.

"About twenty five so far," the PC said.

"Can I have them?" The officer tore several pages from his notebook. Josef added them to the pages he'd got from the Martins'.

"Thanks," he said, "keep it up."

They left the Collridges' and phoned Bentworth on his mobile. He picked up on the third ring. There was some muffled talking in the background and the sound of a door.

"Go on," Bentworth said, "make it quick though I've just stepped out of a meeting."

"From what the parents say it looks like the football scout is the prime suspect our end. What does the club say?"

"They say their football scouts don't work like that, almost no one's do," Bentworth said, "and if we mention their name they'll sue, so don't."

"Did they come up with a picture yet?"

"No," Bentworth seemed agitated. "The artist drew two pictures the boy described as a good likeness, but they were totally different. I think the best we can reliably do is white male 35 to 50. They're trying the kid now with photofit but we're not holding out much hope."

"Shit," Josef said. "Matches the profile though."

"What're you doing now?" he asked. It was the question Josef had hoped to answer with this call but hadn't.

"We need to confirm something with the football coach then I suppose a trip to Central Park and a shit load of questions."

"The football coach is the PE teacher isn't he?" Bentworth asked.

"That's right," Josef said.

"Mason is at the school now, what do you want to know?"

"Just ask him to get a list of the dates of the football games Bryan played in the last month. Ask if one was cancelled."

"Just that?"

"Yes Sir."

"Okay. Let me know if you come up with anything else."

"Sir," he hung up.

"No luck with the picture then," Whitlock said.

"Kid can't give a proper description, keeps changing it."

"You don't think he's lying though?"

"Nah, it's just harder than it looks," Josef said.

"What now?" Whitlock asked.

"It's a five minute walk from here to Central Park, shall we leave the car here?" he asked.

"Yeah," Whitlock said. "Are we really gonna hang around the park the rest of the afternoon asking questions?"

"Of course not," Josef said smiling. "Just while I'm figuring out the next step."

"Let's take the car then." Whitlock laughed holding out her hand, palm up. "Looks like rain."

After just twenty minutes in the park it had started to rain. The few kids that were there went home so Josef and Whitlock retreated to the car. Josef checked his watch.

"What time is it?" Whitlock asked.

"Ten past four."

"What now?"

"I think probably the most productive thing we can do is pass the Martins' and the Beachams' on the way in, go through those registration numbers. Maybe we'll turn something up."

"Okay, anything's worth a try."

It was after six by the time they'd gone through the fifty or so registration numbers collected. Josef drew the short straw and typed up their notes while Whitlock looked. Nothing appeared on more than one list. When they'd finished Josef fetched coffee from the canteen.

Mason hadn't appeared back in CID. He'd gone straight to the public appeal. Josef conceded that he was lead detective and should be there so he grudgingly photocopied his notes and left the copy on Mason's desk.

"I don't know about you," Josef said, "but I'm starved." Whitlock examined her coffee cup.

"I've got to go home," she said.

"Okay, I'll see you here in the morning for briefing," Josef said. He wasn't actually sure he'd been turned down, because he hadn't actually asked, but they both knew he was going to. He decided she meant 'don't ask', which was fine. She got up and headed for the door.

"Night Mary," he said.

"Close," she called, but he couldn't see her face.

Josef sat at the desk for a long time, leaning back in the chair his feet on the desk, his eyes on the ceiling. He fell asleep.

Josef woke about nine slumped across his desk. His cheek was wet and he couldn't even move his right arm. It fell lamely off the desk as he sat up. He tried his fingers but they didn't move and checked his watch, outside it was getting dark. Josef massaged some life into his arm and when the feeling began to return he wiped his cheek and the desk with a tissue. With the pins and needles raking his fingers he checked his phone for missed calls but had none, so he phoned Bentworth.

"Yes," the man said.

"Sir, I'm just checking how the appeal went?"

"It went well actually. We're having a flood of calls but no promising leads yet. You'll be first to know if we do. We didn't get a picture in the end but we released a description. Did you turn up anything?"

"No Sir," Josef said, "nothing."

"Okay, well keep trying."

"Thanks Sir," Josef said. Bentworth hung up.

Josef was still tired but he knew that if K abducted another child tonight he could be called anytime, and he was going to be worthless without proper sleep. He drove home and was asleep in bed within half an hour.

Chapter 19: K

K woke around eight feeling drugged. He splashed some cold water on his face and fixed himself a sandwich. The food woke him up a little and he pottered around tidying up. Around nine he fixed himself a whisky, dropped into the couch with the bottle at his side and sipped from a diamond cut glass. K turned on the TV and waited for the news. Tonight was the first night he'd had to catch up with the TV news. The way his schedule was looking it might be the last for a while too.

Tomorrow was the first big day for K and he wondered how much money the family had been able to come up with. He hoped it was a lot. Tomorrow would be the culmination of months of hard work and planning.

As K drank he hummed and sang and waited for the news. When the news came on his story was lead.

"Yessss!" he said, throwing his fist half up in front of him. He watched as the parents of each of the boys cried for the TV and asked for their child back. He listened as the police described a white male thirty-five to fifty posing as a football talent scout. He was a little stunned but he supposed it was the most public contact he'd made with any of the boys. He didn't think they had the any info on the van otherwise they would have mentioned that too. No, they didn't have much, but the parents, that was great, he'd captured the attention of the nation.

When K went to bed he was happy and he lay for a long time imagining the future. When he finally drifted off to sleep he slept soundly till morning.

K woke early and fully rested. He'd eaten well and slept well and now he was ready for business. He showered, shaved and dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. He made a flask of coffee and had one cup with some toast for breakfast. K took the van and set off for the cottage. He stopped to tank up and bought the day's papers. His story had made the cover of only one of them, but it had made the first few pages of the rest. He dumped them on the passenger seat and headed south-west.

He made steady progress and because he was heading against the traffic, he got the satisfying feeling of flying along whist the other direction was sitting in a long stationary queue.

K reached the cottage just after ten. He didn't check in on the boys straight away, instead he fixed some food for them, scrambled eggs on toast with bacon chunks in. He took a plate in to Daniel. The boy was watching TV.

"Morning," K said.

"I saw my Mum and Dad on TV this morning. Who were those other kids you took?" he asked. "Are they here?" The boy looked scared and K was thrown off guard, he hadn't thought about that last night, just how happy he'd been with the publicity. He didn't answer, instead he said,

"Scrambled egg on toast," and handed the plate to Daniel.

"I'm not hungry," he said putting the plate on the bed, "Have they paid you?"

"It's not time for another hour yet, then we've got a long drive so you'd better eat and get washed up," K shut the door.

He took a plate for Jamie but when he opened the door the stench of stale urine hit him. The boy was lying on the bed curled up in a ball, he was crying softly. K could see the bed was wet. He shut the door and went to Bryan. When he opened the door Bryan was sitting on the bed.

"Scrambled egg on toast," K offered. The boy took the plate without speaking.

"How are you?" K asked.

"Okay," Bryan relied.

"Good," K smiled and shut the door. He went back to Jamie's room, the boy still hadn't moved. K went in.

"Jamie, come and get a shower," K said. At first he thought boy didn't hear, Jamie didn't say anything.

"Jamie get up," K said. The boy continued crying.

"Jamie get up now!" K said with more authority.

"I want my Mum," the boy whimpered.

"Get UP!" K said louder.

"I want my Mum," the boy whimpered again.

"If you don't get up right now you will never see her again." The boy began wailing and K waited patiently, after a minute Jamie toned it down a peg but didn't move from the bed.

"Jamie Beacham," K yelled. "Shut up this instant." The boy dropped the wailing another decibel. "You will go back to your mother tomorrow if you do what I say, is that clear." K made a little progress. The boy nodded and lowered the sound of his crying but he didn't stop.

"I want my Mum," the boy cried.

"You will see your mother tomorrow if you do as you're told. Now come with me. You're going to have a shower."

K took Jamie for a shower. He locked the boy in the bathroom and while the boy showered he went back in the room, stripped the bedclothes and flipped the mattress. He remade the bed but left he covers off for the bed to air. He found an old tin of air freshener under the sink and sprayed the room. When he went back to the bathroom Jamie was toweling himself down. K handed him clean pajamas.

"Feel better?" he asked. The boy just nodded.

"Give me knock when you're ready," K said and left the bathroom. He waited outside thinking. After several minutes the boy knocked on the door. K led him back to his bedroom.

"You've got to look after yourself. It's only one more day now, if your Mum and Dad pay me tomorrow then you're on your way home," K smiled. The boy's eyes filled with tears. "It's okay," K said, "it's gonna be all right. You want those scrambled eggs now?"

"Yes please," Jamie nodded. K fetched the plate from the kitchen, he brought a can of coke with him also.

"Thanks," Jamie said as he took the plate. K smiled and left the boy alone. He checked his watch. It was a little after eleven. He collected the other plates and sat in the kitchen with his own scrambled egg on toast and read the papers. When the time finally crept round to five minutes to twelve he went into the study and switched on the laptop.

K had tried this several times and he knew it was painfully slow with just an infrared connection to a mobile phone but he had no choice; there was no landline here.

When the laptop had booted he connected to the internet. The mobile phone was a pay as you go with a massive amount of credit on it. He needed the credit though because it was bloody expensive to do this. At last the Swiss Bank's home page loaded. K had a pile of papers laid out on the desk along with a small calculator looking object. He typed his details and accessed the account.

Eighteen thousand one hundred and thirty nine pounds. K smiled. He pulled out some more papers and began to transfer the money to another account. When he was finished he returned to Daniel. K stopped at a cupboard and removed a bag of clothes.

"I can take you home now," he said. Daniel jumped up on the bed.

"Yeah," he yelled and jumped up and down.

"Enough," K said and the boy dropped to his bum, still bouncing. "Get washed and brush your teeth and put these on," he said, dropping the bag of clothes on the floor. The boy nodded. K went back ten minutes later with a big box.

"Climb in," he said. The boy looked doubtful.

"I can't let you see where you are can I? I'm just gonna drive you back in this box and then let you go," K said. Daniel got reluctantly in the box and sat down. K closed the box and taped the lid,

"No peeking through the handle holes," he said as he wheeled Daniel out to the van.

Once the box was safely in the back of the van K headed toward the motorway.

Chapter 20: Payment

Josef woke at the sound of his alarm. He'd slept too long and he felt thick headed. He headed straight for the bathroom for a shower. He jumped in before the water was warm and allowed the rush of stinging cold spray to waken him fully. When the water turned warm he stood under it for a long time. When he stepped from the shower he felt marginally better. Wrapped in a toweling robe Josef headed to the kitchen and brewed some fresh coffee. He drank the first cup black, then poured a second, larger cup, added sugar and took it upstairs while he dressed.

Josef's mobile rang, he recognized the number.

"Lindahl," he said.

"We've moved briefing to eight thirty this morning," Mason said. "We want to be with the Martins by ten, for when they transfer the money. We've got authorization for call tracing if he calls but we need time to set up."

"Yes sir." Josef looked at his watch, it was about a quarter to eight. Mason hung up without another word. Josef called Whitlock and told her. As he'd expected Mason hadn't bothered to call her. Josef dressed quickly and headed for the door.

He just made it to the briefing in time. Whitlock and the others were already there.

"Right," Mason said. "Now we're all here we can get on with it." He looked around the room. "Lindahl, why don't you fill us in on what you've got."

Josef could see the tension in the man, but there was something about it that was out of proportion to the situation. Josef studied Mason carefully.

"There are three questions that we need answers to. What's important about the boys being taken from their own garden? Why do the boys all look the same? And how are they connected?"

"Yeah well there's lots more questions we need answers to as well like where the boys are being kept and who the kidnapper is but I don't think we're gonna find the answers to any of 'em," Mason snarled. "I've read the psych report you gave Bentworth, what a load of shit. Now what real detective work have you done?"

There was something about Mason's reaction that put the man in a dangerous place for an officer, and something about the man himself that made Josef see red. He stood.

"What detective work have you done? What has the kidnapper said to you?" Josef asked. Mason laughed and Josef got more infuriated.

"What's he said to you, cracker?" Mason goaded.

"He's said my name is K," Josef leaned forward, his hands on the desk. He was angry but not shouting. "He's said these boys have all got to look the same, they've all got to be the same age. He's said they've all got to be taken from their own front door, right under everyone's noses. He's said you have to know that. He's said I have a cause more than money. He's said that I know these boys, I know their friends, I know who's ill, who's not, who's strong, who's naive. He says I watch, I study and I find weakness. He says I want to cause as much pain as possible, but not to these boys, to their parents. I want their parents to pay, not just with money, but with pain. They don't have money but they have to pay anyway. He's said my name is K, come catch me."

Josef stared at Mason for a long time.

"You finished cracker?" Mason said at last, trying to brush it off but failing, his smile too forced.

"Fuck you, you prick," Josef said and sat.

Mason looked around the room, he seemed to be weighing the outcome of the exchange but Josef was too mad to care.

"I think everyone knows where we are," Mason said. "I think the best thing we can do is to get over to Daniel Martin's house and see what we can do there."

He stood and was first to leave. Josef remained seated, the others filed out and as Ward passed behind Josef he dropped a hand on Josef's shoulder, squeezed and then filed out of the room. Josef spirits lifted a notch.

When he and Whitlock were alone she said, "Well that went well."

"Don't," Josef said.

"Actually I was being serious," she snapped and stood. Josef looked up at her and her face changed from frown to smile, "You kick ass, cracker."

They left the meeting room together but Josef only went as far as the desk he'd been using and collected a pile of pictures, paper and pens. They went back into the meeting room.

"What're we doing?" Whitlock asked.

"Thinking," Josef said.

He began taping pictures to the whiteboard.

"Any chance you can go get some coffee?" he said.

"Yeah. You wanna chocky bar too?"

"Please," he said his full attention now on the board.

When Whitlock returned the board was covered in pictures, dates, times, scribbles, lines arrows and all manner of scrawly handwriting. Josef was sitting on the edge of the table studying it.

"Share," she demanded.

"Well I was thinking about what I shouted at Mason. I can't put it together quite right but I think that K was maybe abducted from his own doorstep as a child and his parents didn't do anything about it. Maybe they abused him or something."

"You still think that he's associating with these kids?" she asked.

"Maybe, it's the best thing that I've got that makes sense," Josef said.

"Okay so say he's thirty five to fifty. Maybe there are records of his abduction on file. I mean if we know the specifics like the garden and the description and roughly the year then we might get lucky," Whitlock offered.

"I have to go on this crisis counseling," Josef said. Whitlock ignored the comment.

"Shall we crack on then?" she said.

"Wait lets see what else we come up with first." He looked at the wall. "K," he said. "What's it mean?"

"He changed his name? Could be his original name or an alias," Whitlock offered.

"I like it, sounds good. He's telling us his name or a way to find it."

"You really think he wants to be caught?" she asked.

"Subconsciously maybe, I think he's in a lot of pain in some way, I think he wants it to stop. I don't really know enough to say but he's purposely leaving clues so that we can discover why he's doing this."

"What clues?" Whitlock asked.

"The schoolbag and the football boots," he said.

"What about the Beacham kid?" she said.

"There was a witness that saw the boy going into the garden," Josef replied.

"That's not enough, there's got to be more than that. If he really wants us to find the connection then he'd have left something," she said.

"They didn't find anything," Josef countered. "SOC went through the garden thoroughly."

"The money," Whitlock said. "They found money, I bet he left there."

"You fucking idiot Lindahl," Josef shouted in exasperation. "You absolute moron. They spent it."

"Are you sure?"

"I saw the guy spit on it and put it in his pocket. Even if we could get hold of it we couldn't get prints from it now."

"Spit on it?" Whitlock looked puzzled.

"See and penny pick it up, spit on it you'll have good luck," Josef explained.

"Never heard that before," She said. Josef shrugged. They looked at the board, Whitlock was making notes and Josef was thinking. It was silent in the room but for the sound of pen on paper.

After a time Josef spoke. "They were all doing something, school, karate and football. Maybe they're things K did himself as a kid. Maybe he was good at them."

"Or bad," Whitlock said.

"Why would you do karate if you were bad at it? School you have to do and football when you're at school but not karate."

"Maybe his parents forced him to."

"True," Josef pondered for a while. "Nah, we're just clutching at straws now. Best go with what we've got, at least it feels right."

They left the display on the board and went to Josef's desk. They used the National Crime Database and ran searches on combinations of crime, date and place. They ran searches on Karate and football scouts, everything they could think of. After an hour they'd found nothing even remotely similar in the timeframe. Josef stood.

"I'm gonna grab another coffee, you want one?" he asked. Whitlock shook her head,

"I'll have a bubbly water though," she said.

After Josef had gone she sat staring at the screen. She'd been sure that Josef was onto something. She liked him. He was a smart, logical man with genuine empathy. He could put his mind in the head of others and his intuition was uncanny. And he was tall dark and handsome in an unpolished sort of way. But he could use some lessons in eating fish and chips.

Whitlock pushed those thoughts aside and returned her attention to the screen, she widened the dates in the search by five years and searched again. While the computer conversed with others in far away places Josef came back, he put the water in front of her.

"Anything," he said nodding at the computer.

"Sorry," Whitlock said, picking up the bottle and unscrewing the cap. "I really thought we were onto something."

"It was a long shot," he replied.

Josef's mobile vibrated in his pocket and then rang. He pulled it out. It was Bentworth's number.

"Josef Lindahl," Josef answered.

"Jo what the hell are you doing fighting with Mason?" Bentworth said. "He's just turned up here and he's fuming, says you yelled at him in front of everybody. That's a reprimand that could go on your permanent record."

"Sir if I could just explain," Josef began.

"It's all right," Bentworth cut in. "I'll let it go this time because I know what Mason can be like but don't do it again, I won't be able to help you next time."

"Thank you Sir," Josef said. He looked at Whitlock who was staring with her eyebrows raised. He gave her the OK sign.

"You've had your reprimand, now why aren't you here?" Bentworth asked.

"I was steering clear of Mason for a while, and we were running some searches against NCD," he said.

"Really?" Bentworth sounded surprised. "Searches for what? Have you got something new?"

"No Sir, just against abductions and disappearances."

"Oh," Bentworth said, "Well leave that and get down here, Mrs. Martin's been asking for you."

"Yes Sir," Josef said. Bentworth hung up.

"Bollocking?" Whitlock asked.

"Yeah," Josef said, putting the phone back in his pocket, "Mason went running to Bentworth."

"What'd he say?"

"Just said I'd been yelling at him, trying to get me reprimanded."

"Bastard," Whitlock said, surprising Josef with her venom.

"Bentworth said we've got to go to the Martin's, help out there," Josef said, changing the subject.

"Come on then," Whitlock replied businesslike. "It's a shame we didn't find anything, that would 'a wiped the smirk of Mason's face." They collected their gear together and headed for the car.

They drove unhurriedly to the Martins'. As they entered Eastbourne Road they saw a patrol car parked outside the house and Josef recognized Bentworth's Jaguar. They found a space near the corner of Alcott Street. Josef backed into the space and they walked together up to the house. A uniformed officer opened the door.

"Can I help you?" he asked. Josef produced his warrant card. Everyone was crowded in the living room, but Josef squeezed in.

Whitlock looked over Josef's shoulder into the living room, there was a mess of bodies but she saw no sign of Mrs Martin. She retreated to the kitchen where Mrs Martin was sat at the table. She looked up when Whitlock came in.

"Hello," Whitlock said.

"Oh. Hello." Mrs. Martin smiled. "You look better without the uniform," she said to Whitlock. "I was just making tea, do you want one?" she added.

"You shouldn't be making tea, let me," Whitlock insisted and moved to the cupboard. "How are you holding up?" she asked. Mrs. Martin looked exhausted.

"I'm all right, we've got the money, eighteen thousand, and the guys here have been so nice, they had a little whip round and they all put in some money. Over a hundred quid," she said.

"Every penny counts," Whitlock smiled. Mrs. Martin nodded. The Kettle clicked off.

"How many?" Whitlock said getting cups and lining them up.

"Four teas and two coffees and whatever you're having."

"And you?" Whitlock asked.

"I'm a tea."

Mrs. Martin sat at the table while Whitlock made tea. When she was finished Whitlock handed over Mrs. Martin's tea first then stuck her head out the door.

"Excuse me," she said to the uniformed officer by the front door. He came over.

"Can you just deliver these to the others?" she said indicating the line of cups on the counter.

"Sure," he said. "Is there one for me?"

"There will be in a minute," Whitlock said and returned to the kettle, filling it with a little more water. The officer left carrying two cups.

"Do you really think he'll give Daniel back?" Mrs. Martin said.

"I think so."

"Really?" she pushed for reassurance. Whitlock gave it.

"Everyone thinks so."

"You're not just saying that?" The PC returned for another two cups.

"Tea or coffee?" Whitlock asked.

"Coffee please, got any sugar?" he said. Whitlock took the sugar bowl and put two spoons in it. The PC took it and left again.

"Looks like it's been mad here this morning," Whitlock said.

"Yeah, we've had people messing with the phone line since eight o'clock and there's been police around since about nine. It's a madhouse."

"Are none of your family here?" Whitlock said.

"We asked them not to come. We just want to get this over and done with, we just want Daniel back." She looked exhausted, dark rings around her bloodshot eyes.

Whitlock wanted to ask her if she'd been sleeping, if she wanted to see a doctor, if she had been drinking and a hundred other questions. Instead she stood and made the PC his coffee. He returned for another two cups and left again. When he came back he took the last drinks and left. Whitlock shut the door and sat down opposite Mrs. Martin again, she was staring into her tea. They sat in silence, the only noise the mesmerizing ticking of the wall clock.

In the living room Josef stood by the door. Mr Martin was sat near the phone with Bentworth next to him. Mason sat out of the way while a technician sat cross legged on the floor. He was wearing a headset and was talking to someone somewhere else though it. He was surrounded by two laptops, a suitcase full of cables and a big black plastic thing. Ward sat in the other chair.

"Come in," Bentworth said. Josef squeezed into the room past the coffee table. The telephone in front of Mr. Martin rang.

"OK Pick it up," the technician said. Mr. Martin did.

"Yes," Mr. Martin said and paused while someone on the other end of the line spoke. "No, I can hear you fine." After a second he hung up again.

"Okay we've got it now," the technician said. Bentworth checked his watch. He stood.

"I've got some phone calls to make before we make the transfer. We've got just under an hour; I suggest we get ready in case he calls with a reminder beforehand. Josef can I have a word with you outside?"

"Sir," Josef said. A PC came in carrying two cups.

"Great," Mason said, "mine's a tea."

When they were outside in the street Bentworth spoke again.

"I haven't had much of a chance to talk to you the last couple of days and I've got a few questions before things go any further." Josef nodded.

"I've read your report, I know you don't really have much information to go on but I need to your feelings on a couple of things." He waited for Josef to say something.

"Go on Sir," Josef encouraged.

"What do you think," Bentworth struggled for the words, "the chances are, that, this is a lose lose situation for the parents. I mean that they won't get the boy back anyway." Josef thought about this.

"How do mean exactly Sir?" he said, "Are you asking me if the kidnapper will hurt the children? If he'll keep them or what?" Bentworth was slow in coming to the point.

"You said in your report that this is about the parents, and it could be some kind of punishment for them. For something they've done. I suppose what I'm asking is, do you think this is punishment enough or will he hurt the kids to punish the parents. Could we be looking at a murder investigation here?" His face was blank and Josef didn't envy Bentworth the job of asking.

"You know I've thought a lot about that. The short answer is I don't know and there's no way to tell. To know that I'd have to know why he's doing this."

"I realize you can't know anything for sure Jo, but what's your feeling on this?"

"I think that it depends on how much the family pays. He's removed the responsibility from himself. I don't know if he would or could hurt the children, but he's given himself the mental freedom to do it blamelessly so I guess the answer is he might," Josef said.

They stood on the pavement in silence while Bentworth stared at the phone in his hands, twisting it around and around.

"You know it's not a lot of money," He said.

"I know," Josef agreed, "but it's a lot for them."

"He doesn't know that"

"But I think he does," Josef said. "I think he knows everything about this family."

"Mmm," Bentworth hummed undecidedly. He seemed to come to some sort of conclusion.

"Thanks Jo," he said and held up the phone indicating he was about to make some calls, Josef headed back inside but turned at the door.

"Sir," he called. Bentworth looked up from the phone. "They should pay, you know, if that's what you're asking me."

He didn't like the idea of going back into the living room with Mason so he tried the kitchen.

"I was wondering where you got to," he said when he saw Whitlock at the table with Mrs. Martin.

"Just havin' a chat," Whitlock said. Mrs. Martin looked terrible. She looked up and smiled at Josef.

"I'm glad you're here," she said. Josef smiled.

"Wouldn't miss it," he replied. "You mind?" He pointed at the coffee and kettle.

"Help yourself," Mrs. Martin said.

"You want a refill?" he offered. Mrs. Martin shook her head.

"No thanks."

Josef quietly made coffee and sat with them in the kitchen and drank it. No one said anything for a long time. They heard the front door go, and then Bentworth appeared in the doorway.

"Come on," he said. "Let's go make the transfer." It was early but not by the time the technician had the internet connection going over a separate line so the phone was free. Mr. Martin sat at the laptop while everyone watched. After several minutes waiting the transfer was made.

"Do we just wait now?" Mr. Martin said.

Chapter 21: K

When they arrived back in London K drove around for a while, just to make sure that Daniel had no idea of the route they'd taken and to kill the little spare time he had. It was just after three when K pulled up at some disused lock up garages not far from the boy's home. There was a wooden plank fence round the block of garages, they were due to be pulled down for construction soon. The lockups were all broken into and generally used for tipping and by druggies. Large parts of the fence had planks torn away.

K knew that leaving Daniel here in broad daylight was a risk but there was no one around and he could lift the box out of the van easily enough. He backed up to the fence, climbed into the back and opened the back door of the van. He Jumped down and dragged the box toward him then lifted it. He checked around.

"Count to two hundred then rip the box open. You will know where you are. Two hundred not before - you understand."

"Yeah," came the muffled voice. K dumped the box on the ground just inside the broken fence.

"OK start counting," He said.

K slammed the van back door and hopped through into the driver's seat. Hurrying away so as not to be seen he checked his mirrors and all around. He was quite sure no one had seen him. It had only taken a minute.

K drove less than five minutes to a nearby street and parked up. He had work to do and now he had to put Daniel from his mind. His schedule was tight but manageable. He had about ten minutes to spare. He was glad there had been no traffic problems, but even if there had been there was always a plan B. K was happy this time he didn't need it.

Chapter 22: Daniel

Josef hadn't known what to say for the past two hours except to wait. Bentworth had made calls every fifteen minutes and Mr. Martin just sat as if in a trance. Josef and Whitlock had retired to the kitchen with Mrs. Martin, the living room was getting hot and stuffy.

There was a yelling from outside the front door, it was opened and the uniformed officer came running into the hall shouting.

"It's Daniel it's Daniel."

Suddenly everyone was in the hall, Josef saw enough to know that Daniel had been returned unharmed and then backed away into the kitchen again. Whitlock came in a second later.

"That's bloody brilliant isn't it," she said, grinning widely.

"Yup," Josef smiled himself.

"I wonder what the boy has to tell us," Whitlock said.

"Me too, but I sort of feel like an intruder right now if you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do," she said.

"Coffee?" Josef said, flicking the kettle on. He could hear Daniel crying from the hallway.

When Josef was sat at the table with a fresh coffee Whitlock was still grinning. He looked at her and smiled too. She had a beautiful smile, it's a shame he couldn't ask her again, but then again maybe he would. Hell she could only turn him down; again.

"What're ya' thinkin'?" she asked.

"Just that we might get some answers now," he lied.

The kitchen door opened and Bentworth came in.

"What I thought we could do is get Daniel to tell us everything through once, then he could come in tomorrow morning and make a statement. That way we can leave them alone for tonight."

"Sounds good to me," Josef said.

"In the living room," Bentworth beckoned.

When they got to the living room there was standing room only. Josef pulled the digital recorder from his pocket and put it on the floor as near to the sofa as he could. Daniel was sat on the sofa, his parents either side of him.

"Daniel. Can you tell us everything you remember? Take your time, just tell us everything you can," Bentworth said. The boy looked at his mother.

His account took about half an hour and no one interrupted him. When he'd finished Bentworth said,

"Can you think of anything else? Is there nothing else you can remember about the man who took you or where he kept you?" The boy shook his head.

"Is it okay if we ask you some questions?" he continued. The boy looked at his Mum again.

"S'ppose," he said.

"Daniel, when the man tricked you into the van you got a look at him without a mask. Close your eyes, can you remember his face?"

"A bit," the boy said.

"Do you think you could help us make a picture of him?" Bentworth asked.

"I 'fink so," Daniel answered.

"And you didn't see any other boys there?" Bentworth encouraged.

"I thought I heard a boy crying one time," Daniel said.

"But you didn't see any other boys?"

"No."

Bentworth smiled at Daniel.

"Well done," he said and patted the boy on the knee.

"Anyone else have any important questions?" Bentworth asked the room.

"Yeah," Mason said. "Did you hear the man talking to anyone else, on the phone or in the house where he kept you? Do you think he was doing this alone or was there more of them?"

"I 'fink it was just him, nobody else brought me food and he said I was gonna be left alone but not to worry." Daniel said. Mason nodded. Bentworth looked at him.

"That was it," Mason said.

"Josef," Bentworth offered.

"Just a couple of questions. Daniel do you remember when you saw him by the front gate?" The boy nodded. "Do you know what happened to your schoolbag?"

Daniel though about it.

"I put it in the garden so I could help the man with the TV," he said.

"What about your keys?" Josef asked.

"They were in my coat pocket."

"You were wearing your coat?" Daniel nodded in affirmation.

"Where is it?" Josef asked.

"He kept it," Daniel said. "He gave me these clothes to put on."

"They're not your clothes?" Josef said in surprise.

"No, he gave me these new ones," Daniel said.

"New ones?" Josef asked. The jogging suit did look new, it had the creases in the sleeves and legs from being folded. Daniel nodded.

"They had the labels in," he said.

Josef stood thinking for a moment.

"What did he call you when he talked to you?"

"Daniel."

"And he was nice to you?"

"Yeah."

Josef looked at Bentworth and shrugged.

"Nothing else for now," he said.

"I've got a question," Whitlock said. Bentworth nodded. Whitlock pulled some pictures from her bag.

"Daniel, have you ever seen either of these boys before?" She handed Daniel the pictures. He looked at them.

"Don't 'fink so," he said.

"Thank you Daniel, it was worth a try," she said. Daniel gave the photos back.

"I think we should go now and leave you in peace," Bentworth said.

As they prepared to leave Mr. Martin stood.

"Can we thank you all very much," he said. "I hope you catch this guy soon. If there's anythin' we can do, you just ask alright."

Bentworth's phone rang and cut Mr. Martin off.

"Sorry," Bentworth said looking apologetic. "I'll take it outside." Josef was beginning to understand how Bentworth had become CDI so young. A clever, well educated man with a genuine politeness and an understanding of politics.

"Just doing our job," Mason said, "we'll catch him for you Daniel, you did great." He ruffled the boy's hair smiling.

Whitlock tapped Josef on the shoulder, he turned.

"Don't you think that was a bit strange, just letting the boy go with no message or anything?" she whispered.

"I think the boy has a message he doesn't know he's got. I'm not sure what it is though. Something is bugging me and I can't put my finger on it."

They moved closer to the window and stood looking out at Bentworth, both whispering.

"What he says makes sense about K working alone. If he left them on their own," Whitlock said.

"Mmmm"

"And another thing," she continued, "making the boys shower and stuff. Doesn't sound right."

"Mmmm."

"What's up?"

"Look at Bentworth," Josef said pointing. Bentworth was throwing his arm in the air and pointing and shouting. He looked angry.

"What's up with him?" Whitlock said.

"Can't you guess?" Josef said in realization and turned for the door.

They were both almost running when they passed through the gate into the street. They stopped dead when Bentworth put up his hand in a demand for silence.

"Well of course," he said, loudly and angrily. "We're on our way there now." Bentworth pressed a button on his phone and stared at it for a second.

"Aaarrrghhh you fucking prick," he yelled when he was sure the call was terminated.

"Sir?" Josef asked. Bentworth looked up. Mason and Ward were in the street behind them. So too was Mr. Martin.

"Fucking mother fucker just grabbed another one not two minutes from here. Other side of the rec."

"Bastard," Mason fumed. Josef was already running for his car.

Chapter 23: K

K Couldn't find a parking space in the street he wanted. He was forced to park in a tight spot two streets away. K climbed in the back of the van and dialed the number from his pay as you go mobile.

"Hello is that Mrs. Bilham?" he asked.

"Yes," the woman replied.

"Good. This Mr. Lawler from Highfield School. Shea fell over in the classroom about half an hour ago. He hit his head quite hard. He seemed ok but then he started being sick."

"Is he alright?" she interrupted.

"Yes, yes. We think he's fine, but you know it's school policy to get children checked out when they hurt themselves like this. We called an ambulance and he's gone to A and E at Longmarsh General. The secretary went with him about ten minutes ago. We would have called sooner but we had trouble finding your number. His teacher says Anton's mother normally picks him up, so she'll explain what's happened."

"You're sure he's okay?" she said.

"Mrs. Bilham it's just a precaution, he was joking with the ambulance men when he left. He seemed fine."

"Well, thank you very much for letting me know."

"Shall I tell Mrs. Hill you're on your way?"

"I've got to pick up my daughter from nursery but I'm leaving now so I should be about twenty minutes."

"Okay, I'll pass it on. Thank you Mrs. Bilham"

"Thanks. Bye." The woman hung up. K climbed back into the front of the van smiling. He started the engine and drove slowly into Langley Drive. Mrs. Bilham appeared between the parked cars and hurriedly got into a blue Mondeo.

When she pulled out into the street K made for her parking spot. He backed in and stopped the van. Retrieving a large TV box from the slide door he wheeled it on a sack barrow to the front door of the house. He put his hands in his jacket pockets, one came out with a pen, the other a key. K kept the key hidden but clipped the pen to his shirt breast pocket. The houses in Langley Drive were larger, pre war, terraced houses, with a deep porch and generous front garden. They were certainly more valuable than the houses he'd already visited.

K left the sack barrow on the step of the porch and pressed the bell. He leaned against the door-frame casually with the hand holding the key. His hand was right next to the lock. Using his body to hide his actions as much as possible K slipped the key into the lock. He hoped any watchers would just see the delivery man casually leaning in the doorway. He turned the key and pushed the door open a centimeter. He removed the key, stood upright and rang the bell again and put his hands in his pockets.

With the toe of one shoe K pushed the door open. He stood talking to an imaginary occupant for thirty seconds and the wheeled the box inside. K closed the door with his elbow then pulled on a pair of rubber gloves. He didn't move from the tastefully decorated hallway. He parked the sack barrow two meters from the door, opened it, pulled out a bottle and a rag, then waited.

Fifteen minutes passed very slowly. The front door was a rich dark hardwood, with a small semicircle of windows in the top. K didn't look out, but he heard the boy come up to the door. The bell rang. K opened the bottle and soaked the rag. He capped the bottle quickly and shoved it in his pocket.

K pulled the door open with himself behind it, just half way. Shea Bilham came in. K shut the door and grabbed the boy in one quick movement. Shea struggled much more then the others, but the ether was fresh and the struggling stopped fairly quickly.

K put the boy in the box but left his gloves on. He opened the front door and wheeled the sack barrow out. He pretended to talk to the occupant again for a few seconds, then shut the door. When the boy was in the van K climbed through into the front and drove away. He stopped around the corner in the same parking place as he had done before. In the back of the van K opened the box and removed the boy's right shoe. He walked back as he had done with the football boots at the Collridge's. K walked past the Bilhams' house and dropped the shoe in the next garden along. It really should have been the garden on the other side, but that garden had a high hedge and this side most of the garden was paved, so the shoe was easily visible.

K walked back to the van, climbed in and drove away. Another job well done.

Chapter 23: Shea Bilham

They all arrived in Langley Drive at about the same time. There were no parking spaces so they just stopped in the street outside number thirty. Moments later a patrol car arrived with two officers in it. Bentworth gave them orders to go door to door.

"Ask about a white van," he said. "That's what he used to take Daniel Martin and probably the others too. One with a side door."

The officers walked off towards opposite ends of the street. A car had already pulled into the street and been stopped by the roadblock.

"And block the street off," Bentworth called after them.

Inside the house two women were sat on the stairs crying, their arms around each other. A man was stood near them. Josef followed Bentworth into the house.

"Mr. and Mrs. Bilham?" he asked, pulling out his ID. Josef did likewise.

The man nodded.

"I'm Frank Bilham, and this is my wife Katherine," he said, pointing to the larger of the women.

"I'm DCI Peter Bentworth and this is DC Josef Lindahl," he introduced Josef without breaking eye contact with the man. "Why don't we go into the living room and then you can tell us what happened."

"Come on love," Mr. Bilham said, helping his wife to her feet. He put an arm around her, leading her to the living room. Josef approached the other woman who was left on the stairs. A quick glance at Josef and Bentworth followed the couple into the living room.

Mason appeared in the doorway, took a look at Josef and followed the retreating Bentworth into the living room.

"Are you okay?" Josef asked.

"I walked him home," she said.

"You walked the boy home?"

"From school. I only live a few doors away. I shouldn't have left him." Josef read between the lines, he didn't need the details.

"Listen if this is who we think it is then it wouldn't have made any difference if you'd handcuffed yourself to the kid. This guy's magic. He takes kids from under people's noses every day."

"What?" she said.

"Four kids in five days," Josef said. "He took this boy knowing that we were just the other side of the rec. He's just ransomed a boy to a family over there, he gave the boy back a couple of hours ago. We were just interviewing the boy when he snatched this one."

"Gave the boy back?" she said.

"Unharmed," Josef comforted. She looked stunned.

"But I was just a few doors away, we went into our house, he came here. How could he?" she asked.

"He's very clever," Josef said. "You should come into the living room and tell us what happened. The woman now looked more confused than upset. It was what Josef had intended. She stood and allowed Josef to guide her into the living room.

"Please, take a seat," Bentworth said as they appeared in the doorway.

"Sir, I'm just going to check something," Josef said.

"Ward is checking the garden if that's what you're thinking," Mason said aggressively.

"Don't you think a more superior officer should do it?" Josef said as he walked out of the room. He looked for Whitlock in the garden.

"Where's Whitlock?" Ward looked up from his crouched position. He had been looking behind the wheelie bin.

"Mason told her to help with the door to door," Ward said. He saw the expression on Josef's face and shrugged.

"Can't like everyone you work with," he said philosophically.

Josef went back inside. He found a spot in the living room, pulled out his dictaphone and put it on the little coffee table recording.

"Sorry," he said to Bentworth.

Bentworth turned his attention to the Bilhams.

"So you got a phone call from a man who said he was Mr. Lawler from your son's school? Please carry on."

"Yes, that's what he said. He said that Shea had banged his head and was vomiting so they sent him to hospital in an ambulance to get checked up. He said the school secretary went with him. He said the teacher would tell Rebecca what happened," she pointed at the woman Josef had spoken with.

"Go on," Bentworth coaxed.

"He asked if I was going to pick up Shea, when I said yes he said he'd tell Mrs. Hill that I was coming." She stopped and looked around the room.

"You said you can't remember exactly what he said but can you remember if he actually said Mrs. Hill?" Bentworth asked.

"Oh yes. He knew everyone's names and everything. I've only spoken to Mr. Lawler once but it sounded just like him."

"And then you went to the hospital?"

"I went to the nursery and then to the hospital. When I found out Shea wasn't there I rang the school. I thought I'd gone to the wrong hospital. The school said they hadn't called and Mrs. Hill was still there. When they checked with Miss Langdon she said Rebecca picked Shea up. We thought it was a hoax. I called Rebecca and that's when we knew something was wrong. She came straight here and when Shea wasn't home we called the police."

"Is there anything else you can remember?"

"Not really."

"Do you remember anyone watching the house when you left to pick up your daughter? Anyone in the street, or any white vans?" Bentworth asked.

"I didn't really notice I was in a hurry," she said. Bentworth turned his attention to Rebecca.

"You picked Shea up from school?" he said.

"My son and Shea are in the same class," she explained. "I live just a few doors away. I collect Shea every day because Kathy has to pick up Jade from nursery the same time school finishes."

"I'm usually here when they get home though," Mrs Bilham said defensively.

"That's right," Rebecca said. "Anyway, I picked up Shea from school as normal and we came home. I went in my house and Shea came here," she said.

"Where do you live?" Mason interrupted.

"Number forty two," she said.

"You didn't notice the car wasn't here?" Mason said. He was blunt and to the point and it was almost an accusation.

"You don't always get the same spot," Rebecca said. "Not in this street."

"Meaning?" Mason persisted.

"Meaning that most houses have two cars," Rebecca said.

"Do you remember if there was a white van parked in the street?" Bentworth asked, defusing the situation.

"I didn't take any notice, I'm sorry," Rebecca said.

"Thanks okay," Bentworth replied. "It's just an idea."

Whitlock came into room in a hurry, Ward at her shoulder.

"Sir a word," she said to Bentworth. He made his excuses and left. A moment later he came back into the room.

"Mrs. Bilham, what shoes does Shea wear for school?" he asked.

"Black lace ups, just normal, nothing special," she said standing up. "Why?" Her husband stood too. Bentworth looked at them. "There's a shoe in next door's garden, can you come and take a look at it?"

They stood on the pavement looking over the wall at the shoe.

"Yes it's Shea's," Mrs. Bilham said. Josef was stood back a bit, beside Whitlock.

"Who found it?" he asked.

"I did. I was going door to door. I tried here and I saw it."

"Well done," he said.

Bentworth had the phone in his hand.

"What do you make of it," Whitlock asked.

"I don't know," Josef replied thinking. "Schoolbag, money and football boots in the garden, shoe in the neighbor's garden. What's he trying to tell us?"

"You really think all this means something?"

"Abso-fucking-lutely."

"How are we gonna figure this out then?" she asked.

"I'm working on it."

"Lets go back inside," Bentworth said. "SOC are coming."

Inside the house Bentworth laid out for the Bilhams the whole business with K. He explained the ransom and return of Daniel Martin. He explained the notes and deadlines of the other boys. When he'd finished the couple were in tears. So was Rebecca.

"I can get money," Mr Bilham said. "I work in a bank."

"You might need to do that. It seems as though the money is all he wants," Mason said. As he did so he looked at Josef.

"Never the less," Bentworth said, "we hope it won't come to that."

Ward stuck his head in the room.

"SOC are here," he said. Bentworth stood.

"I need to talk to them. Josef a word," he said. Outside the house Bentworth said,

"I don't like this atmosphere between you and Mason, when it starts affecting the case I have to pull one of you."

"But Sir," Josef protested.

"Wait a minute," Bentworth said, hands up. "I'm going to tell him the same thing, last chance. Got it?"

"Yes Sir," Josef conceded.

"Now what do you make of it," Bentworth said, looking at where SOC were taking pictures of the shoe.

"I can't figure out what he's trying to tell us Sir. There was the schoolbag, the money and the football boots, now the shoe in next door's garden. I don't know what it means but I'm sure we're supposed to know."

"The money?" Bentworth looked puzzled.

"Yeah, at the Beachams' SOC found money in the garden. At the time we thought it was just, you know, lost money. But that was me being a twat. He left it there for us to find." Bentworth sighed.

"What happened to the money?"

"SOC took it, said they were going to buy a pint with it."

"You sure?"

"Saw one of 'em put it in his pocket. My fault." Josef examined the pavement.

"What now then?" Bentworth asked.

"The post office I guess," Josef said.

"How many officers?" Bentworth asked.

"As many as we can, but minimum three," he said.

"OK. What time? where?"

"Quarter to five at Vicarage Lane sorting office."

"I hope this works," Bentworth said.

"I've got another idea too," Josef said. "I think we should get everyone involved, families and friends and get them together. Maybe between them they can figure out what the connection is between all these kids."

"What are you suggesting?"

"Well, bring them all up to CID. Sit them down and get them talking. They might come up with something," Josef offered. "Better than making the tapes and quicker."

"I think that's probably the best idea we've got and that's saying something. We don't even have the time to write up a report. Speaking of which the Collridges' computer turned up nothing."

"Didn't think it would," Josef said. "He's not luring the boy's away. He's taking them."

"Mmmm," Bentworth agreed. "I'll try and get everyone together but I don't think we could do it tonight. Maybe we can arrange it for tomorrow."

"We should make it in the morning before the Beachams' deadline. Mason can handle the Beachams'. I can take the post office and the meeting. We can drive the Beachams home in time to make the transfer." Josef suggested.

"Sounds good. About ten tomorrow?"

"Nine thirty," Josef said. "We need time to act on any information we turn up."

"Okay, I'll fix it," Bentworth said.

Josef waited around until Mason and Bentworth and the SOC team had gone. He wandered up and down the street. Whitlock followed. The uniform at the house was a young PC called Macintosh. A nice kid who was keen to help. Josef left him watching from an upstairs window.

"What's the matter?" Whitlock asked.

"When you put together the schoolbag, the money and the football boots, now the shoe right. The fact that all the boy's look the same, that they're all about the same age, they're all taken from their own front garden and the ransom note leaves it up to the parents how much to pay. The fact he gives the kid back unharmed. It all means something and I just can't figure out what. It's pissing me off, I'm really stumped here."

"You're too frustrated. Go home and relax." Josef looked at her.

"Can I drop you somewhere?"

"My car's at the station," she said.

"Okay."

They drove back in silence. Josef stopped on the main road outside the front entrance to police headquarters.

"Thanks," she said and got out.

"Pick you up here at four thirty tomorrow morning," he said.

"What!"

"Four thirty tomorrow morning," he said again.

"What for?"

"The post office," he said.

"Right," she nodded. "Four thirty," and shut the door.

Josef didn't go straight home. He stopped at his local Thai restaurant and ate there. While he waited for his food he called the postmaster on his mobile and arranged to accompany the vans the following morning. His waitress, an attractive oriental girl flirted with him when she delivered his food. It was a fantastic meal and he ate greedily.

When he got home it was after eight. Josef went straight to bed and although he didn't sleep immediately, his mind was unable to focus on the case. After ten o'clock he slept soundly until his alarm woke him at three

Chapter 25: K

When K arrived at the Cottage, making just the one stop along the way at a McDonalds, it was almost seven. He'd already decided to go back to London this evening. He didn't want to miss the morning post, and although it meant running back and forth, it kept him busy. He didn't want too much time to think. Thinking is only productive if it's done at the right time, otherwise it just clouds your judgment.

K wheeled the now fully awake Shea into the house. He dumped the box in the room that had been Daniel's. The boy was kicking and tearing the box. K ignored him and stripped the bed. Then he remade the bed with clean sheets and restocked the fridge. By this time the boy had calmed down, and although he had torn a hole in the box he hadn't escaped it, even though he could have done quite easily. K put on the mask.

When he tore the box open the boy tried to attack K with his bound hands. K pushed him away easily.

"What the fuck do you want?" the boy said.

"Money," K replied.

"I 'aint got none," the kid spat back.

"Your parents do," K said.

"They won't give you none," the boy said angrily.

"Let's hope for your sake you're wrong," K said and slammed the door shut. He left the boy screaming and thrashing against the door with his hands still bound. K thought Shea needed a little calming down. It also angered K that, although the other boys had been scared and upset, they had been willing to listen. Even Jamie who K knew was spoiled. He went to check on the other boys.

Jamie was sitting on the bed playing the PS2. He put the control down when K opened the door.

"What's that noise?" he asked. He looked scared and K realized how loud Shea had become. The soundproofing was only so good.

"It's a kid like you. He just isn't being as grown up as you are," K said.

"How many others are there?"

"I gave one boy back this morning," K said, intending to comfort Jamie. "His parents paid me. Your parents are going to pay me tomorrow then you can go home."

"Really," he said.

"As long as they pay me," K said.

"They will," the boy said, starting to cry.

"How's it going with the food?" K asked, changing the subject.

"Good," the boy sniffed.

"And the games?"

"I nearly finished Fur Fighters," he said.

"You watch all the DVD's yet?"

"Just Shreck Three."

"Wanna coke?" K asked. The boy nodded and K left the room. He stopped in on Bryan.

He was lying on the bed watching Scooby Doo the movie.

"How's it going," he asked.

"Can I go home?" Bryan said. "Please?"

"You can go home Sunday," K said. "If your Mum and Dad pay me?"

"But they haven't got any money."

"I don't want much," K said, "Just what they can afford."

"Please let me go home," he began to cry too.

"I will on Sunday," K said. "You wanna coke?" The boy nodded. K went to the kitchen where he microwaved a big bag of burgers and fries he'd picked up from MacDonald's on the way. He divided the bag intended for three onto two paper plates. There was a lot of food. He took one plate and two cans of coke into Bryan.

"Here, picked it up special," K said. "Hope you like McDonalds." Bryan nodded solemnly. K went back into kitchen and fetched the other plate and cokes. He took them in to Jamie.

"Here you go," he said.

"'fanks," Jamie said doubtfully.

"No probs Jamie, see you tomorrow, okay?."

"Okay."

He returned to Shea's room where the boy was silent. K used the peephole in the door for the first time. The boy was sat on the bed, picking at the tape on his wrists with his teeth. K smiled and left him to it. He wasn't going anywhere and a night to think about things should calm him down.

K went to the study and wrote another ransom note. He worked as he had done with the last one, using a wet sponge to seal the envelope and stamp. When he left around nine thirty he had a plastic freezer bag with the note inside in his jacket pocket. He drove back to London and went straight to his house. When he arrived he showered and went to bed damp, setting his alarm for five thirty. He lay naked on a towel on the sheets, drying in the warm air and drifted off.

The alarm dragged K from a dream. It was actually a dream he liked for a change. It was a dream in which he was still alive. He pushed the emotion away and got up putting coffee on before he dressed, and drank it as he pottered about getting ready to leave. He didn't eat breakfast, instead he decided to stop somewhere along the way, cooking for one is just pointless.

As he drove towards the motorway he took a detour past the sorting office. As he pulled up a man with a mobile phone to his ear turned away from the noise of the street and put a hand to his ear. K Dropped the letter from the freezer bag into the letter box and returned to the van. It was colder out this morning. K turned up the heating in the van and set off for breakfast, then the cottage.

K decided on a motorway service station breakfast. Not that they were particularly good or cheap, but he needed petrol and the overcooked crispy bacon had a certain appeal to him. Besides he was getting pretty hungry and he didn't have a better idea. He pulled off the motorway at the services, bought petrol and a newspaper then parked the van and headed inside. He had to cross over the motorway to reach the café.

He stood looking down at the cars thinking that the cars and the people in them resembled life. Everybody had their own ideas, thoughts and destinations. They interact, and on some level communicate, but only in passing. No one cared he was a kidnapper, and even if they knew they wouldn't do anything about it. People didn't help each other any more. People didn't care. They left things up to an incompetent system full of more people who didn't care.

He read the paper over breakfast. There was a follow up article on the kidnappings about eight pages in but there had already been one murder and a pop star caught on a drink and drugs binge to take the headlines. K sighed and drank his coffee slowly. He was in no hurry to get anywhere. He checked his watch as he ordered a second refill of coffee. He had long since got tired of the indifference of people.

When he finally reached the cottage it was after eleven. It seemed to K that he was starting to feel uncomfortable whenever he stopped moving. He put it down to fear of being caught and stress. Inside he found Jamie asleep on the bed. He woke the boy and took him for a shower. When he came back he gave Jamie some clothes to put on and left him to get dressed.

K went to his computer, booted it up and spent the last fifteen minutes before twelve checking his email. When it was twelve he logged into the Swiss bank and checked the account. Eighteen thousand pounds. K sighed and stared at the screen for a long time. Why did they have to do that?

K opened the door and Jamie stood dressed and ready. K smiled and came in carrying a bottle and a cloth.

"It's okay, they paid," he said.

"So I can go home?"

"Yup. What I gotta do is put you to sleep again, so as you don't see where you are. I'll wake you up and drop you off 'round the corner from your house."

"I won't look I promise," Jamie said. He was scared.

"It's okay," K soothed. "It's the same stuff as last time, you just take a few deep breaths and you'll be asleep. You can do it yourself." He opened the bottle and wet the cloth.

"Here," he said, offering it to Jamie. They boy took it. "Just put it over your mouth and take a few deep breaths. It won't hurt you.," The boy sniffed at it and blinked.

"Go on," K urged, "You'll be home when you wake up."

The boy did as he was told, holding it over his mouth and nose. K took several deep breaths with him.

"That's good," he said. When the boy started to wobble K held the boy's shoulders with one hand and the boy's hand with the other, to keep the cloth in place. When the boy was thoroughly unconscious K let him fall on the bed. He wandered slowly round the house. He put the bottle and cloth away and moved aimlessly through the kitchen. Finally he returned to Jamie. He picked the boy up and carried him down into the cellar.

When K finally came up from the cellar he was sweating and he had tears in his eyes. In one latex gloved hand he was carrying a small cardboard jewelry box. There was blood all over the gloves and his sleeves and the box. He sat in the kitchen and drank two cans of coke. After that he put on new gloves, went to the study where he wrapped the jewelry box in silver wrapping paper and wrote out a card in his own hand. He put the card in its silver envelope, wrote Mrs. Beacham on it and tucked the flap in without wetting the glue. He put both items in the small plastic bag he'd got when he bought the card and put it in his jacket pocket.

When he had cleared up in the kitchen he left for London. As he drove he reflected on the value of life. He supposed it depended on your perspective. Whether you asked a cancer patient or an insurance salesman. A doctor or a policeman. Or a parent.

When K arrived back he parked a little way from the Beachams' and caught a bus up to the high street. From there he used a pay phone to call a cab. K didn't go into the cab office. The fewer people who saw his face the better and he wanted to keep that to the cab driver in the rear view mirror.

"Car service," the controller said.

"Can I have a cab please? From outside the Wharfdale Centre to Freemasons Road."

"Which exit to the Wharfdale?" she asked.

"Err, the one in the High Street," K said. "I'm wearing a dark blue Jacket and jeans."

"What name," the controller said impatiently.

"Beacham."

"Ten minutes," she said.

"Thanks," K replied and hung up.

When the cab pulled up K slid across the back seat to the passenger side so the driver couldn't see much of him in the mirror.

"Where to?" the driver asked.

"The 'offy on Freemasons Road," K said.

The driver pulled away without talking and as they drove K took the plastic bag from his jacket pocket and shoved it in the pocket in the back of the passenger front seat. He left just a little of the plastic carrier bag showing. The driver attempted no small talk and when they pulled up outside the off license K paid exact fare.

He let the cab drive away before walking back to the van. He checked his watch. It was almost four and he was starving. He'd eaten breakfast late but now his stomach knew he'd missed lunch and the sickness left in him by what he'd done to Jamie had abated. K drove around until deciding on Argentinean. One of K's associates had raved about the new restaurant and although it was a bit too much of a novelty for K he tried it anyway.

The place was empty at this time of day. He ordered a nice lamb dish and went to the toilet, and was glad to find it was just one cubicle with a lock on the door. He locked it and rang the cab company from the pay as you go mobile.

"Car service," the same voice said.

"Oh hi, I had a cab about half hour ago. From the Wharfdale to Freemasons Road. I left a birthday present and card in the back of the car. You know, in the pocket in the back of the passenger seat."

"Do you know what car it was?" she asked.

"A blue estate car. Rover I think."

"Wait a minute," she said. K heard the conversation she was having with the driver over the radio.

"Able twelve come in."

"Able twelve go," the driver's voice crackled.

"Did you pick up from the Wharfdale about 'alf hour ago?"

"Yeah."

"Fare says he left a card and present in the back of the passenger seat."

"Hang on."

"He's having a look," she said into the phone.

"Thanks," K replied.

"Yeah it's here, shall I return to base with it?"

"Hang on," she said and then, "Do you wanna pick it up?" she asked.

"Err, if I pay the fare can he drop it off to me. I'm at the birthday party now. I'll give him a drink."

"Where are you?" she said.

"Eleven Benton Street."

"Hang on," she said. "Able twelve are you POB?"

"Cleared just now."

"Can you drop off that card and parcel at Eleven Benton Street?"

"Yup. About ten minutes."

"Thanks," she said, "about ten minutes."

"Great," K said. "Thanks very much."

When K came out of the toilet his food was waiting.

Chapter 26: Who's K?

When Josef pulled up outside the station and Whitlock ran out from reception to the car it was a little before four thirty. He felt like he'd been hit repeatedly with a large, wet, quite fleshy pike. Whitlock looked great.

"Morning," she said.

"No," Josef mumbled.

"Okay," she smiled and they drove in silence to the sorting office. When they arrived they were shown into the post masters office. He produced coffee and even biscuits and by the time the uniformed officers arrived Josef was feeling almost human again. They allocated an officer to each van and dished out instructions, then introduced the officers to the van drivers.

"We're trying to keep this as low key as possible so I don't want you to do anything other than you normally do. You guys," Josef pointed to the uniformed officers, "you stay hidden in the van OK. Just take the sacks and check the contents."

Each officer had a photocopy of the ransom notes received so far for comparison and the address of the Bilhams.

"You know what to do. Anything suspicious you call it in straight away ok?"

They nodded and Josef left the officers and the drivers with their coffee to get acquainted. Josef and Whitlock retreated to reception for coffee refills and watched at the vans as they left the compound.

"You think they'll find anything?" Whitlock asked.

"Unless it's one of these lot," he pointed over his shoulder in the direction of the sorting room, "then they have to. So long as he keeps the same routine."

"You think he will?"

"I think so yeah." The postmaster joined them in reception.

"I hope we can help you," he said.

"So do we," Whitlock answered. Josef's phone rang.

"Excuse me," he said, and then to Whitlock as explanation "it's Bentworth." He pushed open the door and went outside. As he answered a van pulled up at the curb, engine running. Josef turned away and blocked his other ear.

"Lindahl," he said.

"How is everything at the post office? Did uniform turn up?"

"Yes Sir," Josef said. "They're in the vans now checking the post." He wandered towards reception and the shelter of the doorway and looked at Whitlock though the glass.

"Let's hope he sends a note," Bentworth said.

"I'm sure he will," Josef replied. The van behind him accelerated away and Josef turned to look at it.

"Well let me know if you get anything," Bentworth said.

"Sir," Josef answered, now paying more attention to the van. Josef walked out from the shelter of the doorway and looked at the van. N 239 RND. A white van. N 23. Josef looked around and noticed for the first time the post box set into the front wall of the sorting office. He looked at the van as it disappeared then back at the post box.

The door nearly hit Whitlock as Josef flew back inside.

"The post box in the wall outside, open it," he yelled. The postmaster hurried into the front office pulling a large bunch of keys on a long chain from his trouser pocket. He bent down by a box in the wall and opened it.

"Don't touch anything, let me see," Josef said and pushed in front of the small box. There was just one letter in it. The address of the Bilhams' printed neatly on the front.

"Mother fucking fuck shit," Josef yelled.

"What?" Whitlock said. He stood aside.

"Oh I don't believe it," she moaned. "Did you see him?"

"I was on the phone to Bentworth, I wasn't paying attention till he drove away. I got the registration number anyway," he said. Whitlock pulled her pad from the pocket and unclipped the pen.

"Tell," she said. "Before you forget."

"N 239 RND," he said.

"Then let's go call."

They left the postmaster and the sorting office and called Bentworth from outside. Josef explained the episode with the van and the letter.

"N 239 RND," he said.

"Right," Bentworth said. "I'll follow this up with uniform. I think this is probably a stolen van or he's just using someone else's number plate so until we have an arrest you carry on as planned. At least we know where to find him next time. Good work, but it's a shame you missed him."

"Sir," Josef said. Josef looked at the phone to sure the call was finished.

"I don't fucking believe it. We could have had 'im right here."

"Come on," Whitlock said. "Don't kill yourself. We know the license plate and where he drops the letters off. We've made headway."

"Bentworth thinks the van is either stolen or on false plates and I have to say I agree with him."

"Yeah but at least every uniformed cop in London knows what registration number we're looking for, whether it's false or not. Stop beating yourself up."

"I should've had 'im," Josef repeated.

"So should I," Whitlock said.

They put the letter carefully in a plastic bag and headed back to the station. They were in CID before nine. Josef was sat at the desk searching the internet for crimes that included schoolbags and money and shoes. Whitlock came in with sandwiches and coffee.

"Seems like Bentworth has put together quite a gathering this morning, they're busy in the canteen making sandwiches for the buffet. They said there's going to be about thirty people here."

"Good," Josef said glumly. "The more the better."

"We should have heard something from Bentworth about the van by now," Whitlock said.

"No news is good news," Josef replied, clicking on an interesting link.

As they ate their sandwiches the first of the families arrived. It was the Martins. Mr. Martin came over and shook hands with both Josef and Whitlock.

"I 'fink this is a great idea," he said.

"Thanks," Josef smiled, "it's very important we find out how the children are connected."

"Yeah we've been rackin' our brains an' so 'as Daniel but we dunno," he said.

"Something'll turn up," Josef said with more optimism than he felt.

"I 'ope so," Mr. Martin said.

"Grab a seat from anywhere," Josef said. "I think this is gonna be informal, just wander round and talk to each other, bit like a party."

"Alright," Mr. Martin said and walked away to grab some chairs.

"How are you Daniel?" Josef said.

"'m good 'fanks," he nodded.

"Good," Josef smiled.

Whitlock took their coats and disappeared with them into the CID meeting room. When they were seated Mr and Mrs. Collridge came in. They had two boys with them, Bryan's two brothers, Josef guessed. They introduced some friends and the grandparents. It was starting to get busy. Josef introduced them to the Martins. The two families began talking. After ten minutes the Bilhams arrived, followed closely by the Beachams. Stella Wagstaff and her son were there also. The room was crowded but no one seemed to mind.

"Can I just have your attention," Josef said. The room came to a hush.

"You know why we're here. We've got to find a connection between all the boys. I think it's best if we keep this informal. Just talk between yourselves, everything you can, think about your families. There's tea, coffee and biscuits on their way up and there's a sandwich buffet for lunch. Well," he looked around the room at the families, "good luck."

The conversation was noisy, Josef and Whitlock visiting the canteen several times for more tea and coffee. When eleven o'clock rolled round Mr Beacham was anxious to leave. Josef arranged for them to be driven back but Stella stayed along with her son. They were about to go for lunch, it was about five past twelve when Bentworth called.

"Josef Lindahl," Josef said.

"Sorry I haven't called sooner but I've just had a call from Mason. They've made the transfer there and now they're waiting. We've tracked down the registered owner of the van and he says he sold it for cash to a guy desperate for a van to move house. Didn't fill in the paperwork for transfer of ownership because the guy was in such a hurry. Got a receipt to prove it though. We've been at it all morning and it seems like he's telling the truth."

"Bloody typical," Josef said.

"Not to worry, every cop in the met is looking for that van. If he drives anywhere in it he's nicked."

"Good," Josef said flatly. "Have you got any plain clothes cars in the area? You know he dropped Daniel off not far from his house and he used the van."

"Good thinking Jo. If you think of anything else let me know."

"Will do. Oh, just out of interest, do you know how much?" Josef asked.

"Eighteen thousand," Bentworth said.

"Really I thought they could have managed more than that," Josef puzzled.

"Looks can be deceiving," Bentworth said.

"Yeah"

"Okay, call if you get anything," Bentworth said and hung up.

Josef walked over to Whitlock.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"Mason just told Bentworth they transferred the money."

"So."

"So they transferred eighteen thousand pounds."

"What's the problem," Whitlock shrugged.

"I was under the impression they could get together more money that the Martins that's all," Josef said.

"Me too but," she stopped.

"I know," Josef said, "looks can be deceiving. I'm going to pop down to the canteen and make sure everything's ready. Can you bring everyone down in five minutes?"

"Sure," Whitlock said.

"Thanks."

Josef strode out and headed for the canteen. She watched him go.

"You like him don't you," Stella Wagstaff said as she wandered over.

"He's a nice guy," Whitlock observed.

"Not many of those left," Stella smiled.

"Ya' think he'd make a good father," Whitlock said quietly.

"What?" Stella asked.

"Oh nothing," Whitlock blushed. "Listen we've just had a call saying that Mr. and Mrs. Beacham made the transfer, eighteen thousand pounds."

"Really," Stella frowned.

"Something wrong?" Whitlock asked.

"She told me they had over twenty nine thousand and John was gonna buy the car from them for another twelve. They should've had over forty thousand," she said.

"Josef thought something was up," Whitlock said.

"So what does that mean?" Stella said.

"I don't know but I'm gonna go find out. Everyone, can I have your attention please. If you'd like to follow me we can go get lunch in the canteen." Whitlock looked at Stella. "Thanks," she said and led the way to the canteen.

In the canteen Josef was helping put the last few trays of food onto a line of tables. Whitlock headed straight to him.

"That was a quick five minutes," he said.

"I've just had a word with Stella Wagstaff. She said the Beachams had over forty thousand pounds." Josef thought about this for a moment.

"Let's talk to her," he said. They pulled her aside as she entered the canteen.

"How easy was it for them to find the money," Josef said.

"Not that hard I guess," Stella said. "They had some savings and they borrowed some on the house. They sold some things, I mean they could've had more if they'd asked his parents."

"Shit," Josef said.

"Why shit?" Stella asked.

"Because what this guy is really asking is how much Jamie's life is worth to them. If the kidnapper was abused as a child, then just what you can rustle up 'aint gonna be enough to get the boy back. He wants to know that Jamie is worth everything to them. Like he should have been to his parents."

"You want me to call them and tell them to transfer the rest?"

Josef looked at his watch, it was a nearly a quarter past twelve.

"You know what? I think it's too late. But fuck it, do it anyway. I'm going to call Bentworth." Stella pulled out her mobile phone and Josef did the same.

"You're in charge of that call," he said to Whitlock pointing at Stella's phone. He pulled up Bentworth's number and called.

"Yes," Bentworth said.

"Sir it's about the transfer. Mrs. Beacham's friend Stella, she said the Beacham's had over forty thousand pounds."

"What? Who said that?" Bentworth said.

"Stella Wagstaff. The woman who walked home with Jamie from karate the night he was taken."

"Yes yes," Bentworth cut in. "She says the Beacham's had forty thousand to transfer?"

"Yes Sir. Mr. Wagstaff was buying the Beacham's car. It was all planned."

"So what happened?" Bentworth said.

"I don't know," Josef answered, "it's what we're trying to find out."

"Let me call Mason and see," Bentworth said. "I'll call you back."

Stella Wagstaff was already finished on the phone. She and Whitlock stood looking at Josef.

"Well?" he said.

"Mason told them how much the Martins paid. Told them to pay the same," Whitlock said.

"They're going to transfer the rest of the money now," Stella said.

"Mason's furious apparently," said Whitlock warily.

"Good," Josef snapped. "I hope Bentworth strings him up by the bollocks!"

Josef and Whitlock wandered round while the guests ate and talked. No one seemed even close to making a breakthrough. Josef wasn't very hungry but he ate a few sandwiches anyway. His temper had calmed only marginally and when they returned to CID he'd lost hope.

At about three people started to leave. Mr. and Mrs. Collridge spoke to Whitlock.

"I'm really sorry we haven't been able to come up with anything," Mr. Collridge said. "Believe me I wish we had."

"It was a long shot anyway," Whitlock said.

"Can we get our coats?" Mr. Collridge asked.

"Sure," Whitlock said and led the way to the CID Meeting room that they had used as the cloak room. The family followed her in. She began hunting through the coats that were piled on the table.

"What coats were they?" she said.

"I know that boy," the Collridge's son said, pointing at one of the pictures Josef had left taped to the whiteboard the day before.

"What did you say Tony?" Mrs Collridge said.

"I've seen that boy before," Tony repeated. He pointed at the picture of Jamie Beacham.

"Where have you seen him," Whitlock said, taking the picture down and handing it to him. She hunkered down to the boy's height.

"He was with one of Bryan's football friends in the park before."

"Ok think a bit," Whitlock said. "This boy in the picture you've seen him with one of Bryan's friends." The boy nodded.

"Which friend?" Whitlock asked.

"Don't know."

"Can you remember his name for me Tony?"

"Bryan called him K," the boy said. Mrs. Collridge gasped.

"Do you know who K is?" Whitlock asked the Collridges.

"Sorry," Mr. Collridge said shaking his head. Mrs. Collridge was shaking her head as well.

"I think it might be best if we did this outside," Whitlock said. She pulled the remaining pictures from the board and led the family back into the open plan office.

"Listen everybody we've just had the break we're looking for," Whitlock said. Everyone turned to look at her. She lifted Tony onto a desk and Josef came over.

"Tony here has recognized a picture of Jamie Beacham," she held the picture out. Josef bit his knuckles in frustration but said nothing.

"Tony said that Jamie was with in the park with a friend of Bryan's. Bryan called this friend K."

Daniel raised his hand.

"Go on," Whitlock said.

"I went to school with a boy called Keith Kelly. Everyone called him K."

"Keith Kelly went to karate with Jamie," Stella Wagstaff said.

"So where does Keith Kelly live?" Whitlock asked looking around the room.

"He's dead," Daniel said.

"How do you know?" Whitlock asked.

"They said in school. They said a drunk man knocked him down."

"I know who it is." It was Bilham who spoke.

"What?" said Whitlock stunned.

"Harvey Kelly is my boss. His son was knocked down last year by a drunk driver, right on his own doorstep. Bastard got two years ban and a two thousand pound fine. Said he was under duress or some shit like that. Anyway, Harvey goes nuts and threatens to kill the guy and gets thirty days in prison. When he comes out his wife has committed suicide and he's on his own."

The room was silent.

"D'you know where he lives?" Josef asked.

"No but I could find out at work," Bilham said.

"Where do you work?" Josef said.

"Barclays in the High Street."

"You work in a bank? What does this guy do there?"

"He's the manager of credit and loans."

"Ah shit," Josef said.

"What?" Whitlock asked.

"He knows how much the Beacham's could get," Josef said. "Find this man's address." He pulled out his mobile and called Bentworth.

"Sir," he said as soon as the line connected. "The man's name is Harvey Kelly. He's credit and loans manager at Barclay's in the High Street. One of the kids recognized a picture of Jamie, we worked it out from there. Mr. Bilham works with him but we don't have an address yet." He paused.

"Yeah we're sure. His son was killed by a drink driver who got nothing but a slapped wrist and when he threatened the guy he got thirty days. The son was killed on his own doorstep and what's more the boy was called Keith Kelly. Nickname K. The wife committed suicide while our man was locked up." Another pause.

"Too right he has an axe to grind," Josef said. "We're on it now Sir, we'll let you know as soon as we have an address. Okay Sir, see you then. Wasn't me Sir. It was Whitlock." Josef put the phone in his pocket. Whitlock was at a computer and had the phone to her ear but she was looking at him open mouthed.

"Listen everyone I know you're all desperate to know what's happening. I suggest you just sit here and wait. We're on it." Josef said.

"Get me a computer. I can remote log in to work and see if I can find his address," Mr. Bilham said.

"Use that one," Josef pointed.

"Won't be necessary, we'll have it in five minutes." Whitlock said. Josef looked puzzled.

"Electoral role," she explained. Josef sighed.

Chapter 27: Jamie Beacham

They met Bentworth as he drove into the car park. Bentworth had arranged a search warrant by phone and there were two patrol cars and a van waiting. They had the address and the families were waiting in the canteen under the watch of a couple of uniformed officers. Bentworth didn't stop, he spun the car round in the car park so it was facing the exit. Josef and Whitlock jumped in.

"Are they ready?" Bentworth asked. Josef offered him a handheld police radio.

"Yes Sir." Bentworth keyed the mike.

"All units follow me," he said.

Josef pulled out a printout of a street map.

"Sir I told the cars to wait here and here," Josef said indicating two circles on the map. "I told the van to wait here." I thought we could stake out the street see if he's home. I can take the back you and Whitlock can take the front."

"Looks good," Bentworth said. "If he's home we'll call in the cavalry, if not we'll wait for him." He pulled out of the car park and into traffic.

When the other units were in position Josef jumped out of the Jaguar and walked into K's street and up to his neighbor's house. He knocked on the door and had his warrant card ready. The door was opened by a middle aged stocky woman.

"Police," Josef said and gave her the warrant card then pushed his way in. He let her take the card.

"Where's the back door?" he asked, pushing the front one shut.

"Follow me," she said.

Josef could see that each house had its own landscaped back yard. The gardens lay back to back with another row. If K wanted to run this way he'd have to do some garden hopping. There was a six foot fence between this and K's back garden but Josef could see over it from the kitchen step. He pulled out his mobile and called Bentworth.

"Clear at the back," he said and hung up.

Bentworth drove the Jaguar up K's drive and in front of the garage. The garage door was wide but Bentworth countered this by parking almost touching it. He and Whitlock walked to the door and rang the bell. They rang it twice more. When no one answered he called Josef.

"Hold your position: looks like it's going to be a wait," he said. "We're coming to you."

Bentworth drove the Jaguar out into the street and parked in the driveway of the house Josef was in. He came up to the front door. The lady let them in, and after a short explanation from Bentworth she made them tea. Whitlock kept watch by the front door.

Bentworth's telephone rang.

"Bentworth," he said. "Go on." Bentworth's face lost its colour. He looked sick. "In a taxi?" he asked. There was another pause. "Please tell me they didn't see you open it. Oh Christ Bryan. You stay there, get Dave to chase up the cab office. Call me if you come up with anything. At least we know he's in the area. You better hope he comes home before going out to take another one," he hung up.

Bentworth turned and saw both Josef and Whitlock looking at him from their place by the window.

"Please excuse us Mrs. Samuel." The lady left the room.

"Come on," Josef said.

"They just had a delivery in a taxi to the Beachams'. There was a card and a box with one of the boy's fingernails in it. Looked like it was ripped straight out." Josef cringed. Bentworth made fists of his own hands.

"In the card he wrote 'Is that all Jamie was worth? Here's something to bury. They say that's important. He signed it K."

"And that's it?" Josef said.

"Yup"

"Delivered in a taxi?"

"Better than last time. This time he rode the taxi to the off license in Freemasons Lane, then rung up and said he'd left stuff in the car and where to drop it off."

"This just keeps getting better," Josef said.

"Sir," Whitlock said. "If he takes another kid we can get him at the sorting office."

"Won't work," Josef interrupted. "Tomorrow's Sunday, no post on Sunday, he'll pull another stunt with a cab or something."

"He's right," Bentworth agreed. "We'd better just hope he comes back here today."

"What time did they get it?" Whitlock asked.

"About fifteen minutes ago." Bentworth looked defeated.

"Well he should have been back here by now if he was heading straight back here. He must have stopped somewhere first," she said.

"I know," Bentworth agreed, "and I know what you're getting at. You want to go in there and take a look, see if we can find out where he's got the kids. I've got to say I'm thinking the same thing, but did you notice the alarm on the house?"

"Yes Sir," Whitlock said. "We raided a drug dealer once. He had an alarm on his house, telephone line to the alarm company. They rang and told him his house was being burgled before they called the police."

"Well I think these latest developments change the game. I'll call for an alarm specialist, we wait until we get the all clear. I don't want to screw this thing up any more then it has been," he said bitterly. He left the room and Whitlock returned to watching the street.

"You think he killed the boy?" she asked.

"I think he could have. You heard what happened to this guy. He gets told his son's life is worth two thousand pounds and a two year driving ban. He tries to fight for justice and gets put in prison when the guy who killed his son doesn't. That's sick you know. So he fights the system, trying to prove to us what a life should be worth and some idiot tries to be smart. He's being serious and we're not. He has to get us to play the game or we won't find out who he is or why he's doing this. We thought it was about the money. We were wrong."

"That's all very interesting but you didn't answer the question."

"I said I think he could. Why not? His family dies, why not anyone else's?"

"You can't murder in the name of justice," Whitlock said.

"This isn't justice. He's teaching us a lesson. We have to learn the value of life. How much do you think the Beachams' would pay if they had a second chance?"

"Point taken. Maybe if this were America he'd just have gone nuts with a gun."

Josef said nothing and after a few minutes Bentworth returned.

"I think at least an hour. In the meantime we keep surveillance," he said.

Chapter 28: Harvey Kelly

They hung around for about twenty minutes before the van appeared in the street. Bentworth came running out to the back garden where Josef was making a sweep of K's Garden.

"Get back over here, he's here," Bentworth said.

"Are we gonna take him in the street," Josef said.

"Soon as we can be sure he's alone and unarmed."

"I'll stay here then, we don't want him getting out the back."

"Well stay out of sight," Bentworth said and then ran back through the house. Josef knelt behind a large metal gardening shed. He didn't even dare peep around the corner. He'd already missed K once today and he was damn certain it wasn't going to happen again. He listened for the sound of the back door.

Bentworth hurried back to the front window where Whitlock was watching.

"He's just pulled up in the garage Sir. Automatic door," she said.

"Come on then," Bentworth said and lifted the handheld radio. "All units move in." Bentworth and Whitlock were in the street as the two patrol cars came tearing up, sirens blazing. Bentworth and Whitlock ran into the garage, a patrol car skidded into the drive behind them. K was getting out of the drivers side of the van. Bentworth rugby tackled him to the ground, turning him over and cuffing him. Whitlock stood over him. When K was cuffed Bentworth dragged him to his feet and slammed him into the side of the van. He was panting and shaking.

"Arrest him," he said to the uniformed officer who had been first in the garage. "And do it properly." The officer took K away into the street. Bentworth leant against the van breathing heavily and shaking. He was so pumped with adrenaline he could hardly talk. He waited a full two minutes till his breathing calmed.

"Sorry. Phew! Haven't done that in a long time. Right. Where is he?" Bentworth said.

"In the van," Whitlock said. They had pulled the police van up to the curb. One officer was stood by the back door, the others were waiting in the driveway.

"Open up," Bentworth said as he approached. The officer opened the door and Bentworth climbed in. K was inside with two PC's. Bentworth sat opposite K and Whitlock sat next to him.

"Is your name Harvey Kelly?" Bentworth asked. K said nothing.

"Are you Harvey Kelly?" he said again.

"I'm not saying anything without my solicitor. I get one call, I want to call my solicitor," K said.

"Fair enough," Bentworth said and got out. He turned and watched as Whitlock pulled her mobile phone out and fumbled with it, she held it up and took a picture of K then jumped out of the van. In the daylight she looked at the snapshot.

"Not bad, recognizable I think," she said, showing it to Bentworth. She turned and showed it to K.

"I think Frank Bilham can recognize you from this," she said. She thought a fleeting look of recognition had crossed K's face, but it was hard to tell. They walked back up to the house.

"I'm starting to understand why Jo likes working with you," he said. "Speaking of Jo," he pulled out his phone. While Bentworth called Josef Whitlock radioed control from the handheld and got Frank Bilham's number from the officers in the canteen. Whitlock called.

"Hello," he said.

"Mr. Bilham this is PC Whitlock. Has anyone told you what's happened?" she asked.

"No."

"Well you'll be happy to know we arrested the man we think is Kelly," she said. Bilham repeated this excitedly for the listeners in the canteen, there was a huge cheer.

"Listen Mr. Bilham, two things. We've only just arrested him and we've no idea where the kids are," she said. He relayed the message.

"Yeah," Bilham encouraged.

"Number two we're not sure this is Frank Harvey, he won't say anything to us but I took a picture of him with my phone. Can you receive MMS?" she asked.

"Yeah. Send it to me."

"Okay, just reply yes or no, you don't need to call. I'll let you know if we come up with anything."

"Thanks," Bilham said. When she looked up Josef emerged from next door, Bentworth was still on the phone. He came over to where Whitlock was waiting for Bentworth.

"Yes, full forensics and SOC. Yes Sir. Thank you Sir," Bentworth was saying. "Yes Sir. PC Whitlock from uniform got us a lead Sir. Yes Sir I'll pass it on."

"Do you have that effect on everyone?" Josef smiled.

"It's not my fault," she said embarrassed.

"Bentworth says you got him," Josef said. Whitlock looked up from the phone, it chimed in her hand.

"Well?" Bentworth said turning at the sound.

"Sending Sir," she said.

"Where's our man?" Josef said.

"In the van," Bentworth nodded. "He's not talking without a lawyer so there's no use in questioning him here. No one goes in till SOC and forensics have been through the place, if the kids are in there we're home free." Whitlock's phone chimed, she pressed buttons hurriedly.

"It's Kelly," she said. "Bilham's one hundred percent sure." She held out the message, Josef read 'Yes Kelly 100%'.

"There's nothing we can do now but wait," Bentworth said.

"Actually Sir," Josef said. "If we can't go into the house for a bit there's some stuff Whitlock and I could do."

"Yes," Bentworth said interestedly.

"I'd like to go over the case file on Kelly's son Sir. We might find something helpful. We should question all his friends too Sir, maybe they know something. I want to see the card and the fingernail Sir and I think we should go door to door here," he pointed up and down the street. "See if anyone remembers anything."

"Does your brain ever take a break?" Bentworth said.

"Its Alzheimer's Sir. I'm just having a rare moment of clarity," he joked.

"You have my permission to do what you like. I'm staying here so I'll coordinate the door to door. Let me know if you turn up anything useful," he said.

"Likewise Sir," Josef said. He looked up and down the street.

"Take mine," Bentworth said holding out the Jaguar key. "Go straight back and swap it for yours though, no joyriding!"

"Sir," Josef said taking the keys and smiling then he said, "what about the Beachams' Sir."

"Yes I'd thought about that. I think it might be best if you stopped by and Whitlock spoke to them." Josef nodded.

"What about Mason Sir?" Whitlock objected.

"Mason has a problem with Josef, not you. And after the argument I had with Mason earlier over the money and Josef I think the Beachams' won't want to talk to either of them. Do you mind?"

"No Sir," she said.

"Good. I'll call you when we're done here and ready to question Kelly. I think he can sit in there and sweat it out till we're ready to talk to him."

When they got to the Jaguar Josef handed the keys to Whitlock. She took them without argument and jumped in. She adjusted the seat and mirrors, started the car and drove out onto the main road.

"You're welcome," Josef goaded, at the lack of thanks.

Whitlock answered by checking the rear view mirror. She punched the accelerator and the automatic gearbox kicked down two gears. The wheels span freely on the tarmac and the back end shimmied and she pulled out to overtake a mondeo.

"More fool you," she said.

When they pulled into Benton Street Josef was laughing.

"This isn't straight back to the station," he said.

"It nearly is," she smiled.

"Fine by me," Josef laughed. "Accomplice to TDA. That's interesting."

They found a parking spot and were met in the street by a puzzled looking Ward.

"I saw the car, where's Bentworth?" he asked.

"Where's Mason?" Josef said in reply, "I need to talk to you."

"He left half an hour ago. They kicked him out," he thumbed over his shoulder, "he took the box to forensics."

"Go talk to them," Josef said to Whitlock. "I'll bring Dave up to speed."

"Up to speed on what," Ward said as Whitlock disappeared inside. She found Mr. and Mrs. Beacham in the living room. They sat close together with a picture of Jamie between them. Whitlock went over and knelt in front of them on the floor.

"We've arrested the man we think is responsible for this," she said. The couple stared at her in shock with red puffy eyes.

"We don't know anything at this stage. He's not talking. We're doing a thorough search of his house right now. We're hoping we will find the boys." She said softly.

"Make him talk," Mr. Beacham said, "you make that mother fucker talk to you or I will."

"Please Mr. Beacham. We'll get him to talk. We'll find Jamie and the other boys," she said. Mrs. Beacham began to cry.

"Why did we listen to that man," she sobbed.

"Because he said he knew what he was doing," Mr. Beacham comforted his wife. "We shouldn't have believed him, but we didn't know."

"Please. You can't blame yourselves for any of this. The detective believed what he told you was right. He was trying to help you. He acted in good faith. I'm sorry this happened but you can't give up hope," she said. Whitlock put a hand on Mrs. Beacham's knee.

"You can't give up hope. We're gonna bring Jamie back to you," she said.

"Do you have any children?" Mrs Beacham asked.

"I have a two year old son called Reece," she admitted.

"Then you know what you're saying means nothing," Mr Beacham spat.

"I know what I'm saying means nothing until I deliver," she said. "Then it means everything. And believe me. I will deliver." Whitlock stood.

"I'm glad you've caught the bastard," Mrs. Beacham sobbed.

"We all are," Whitlock said. "Thanks for your time. You'll be first to know when we find the boys," she said.

"Thanks," Mr. Beacham stood. "It was nice of you come tell us. It means a lot."

"No problem," Whitlock said. She left the couple holding hands in the living room. In the street Josef and Ward were discussing Mason.

"Like I said he's a good bloke," Ward said.

"How'd it go?" Josef asked.

"It went okay I suppose. Give them a bit of space but don't leave them alone," she said to Ward.

"I'm not very good at these things," he admitted.

"Just let them be and offer a cup of tea every now and again," she said.

"Okey dokey," Ward said.

"See you later," Josef said as they walked back to the Jaguar. Whitlock handed the keys to Josef. He jumped in like a child and adjusted the seat.

"What about the mirrors?" Whitlock said as he started the car.

"Don't care where I've been," Josef said and floored the gas. The wheels span and the car snaked up the narrow street crowded with parked cars either side. He hardly slowed as he threw the car into a left turn, the rear end sliding wildly.

"You're welcome," She said.

"More fool you."

Chapter 29: K

K waited in the back of the police van for two hours. He sat silently and patiently. After two hours his interest was peaking. There were two officers in the van with him. One was a young man who looked about twenty years and as many stones, and an older, weasel faced officer with a large pointed nose and protruding upper teeth.

"I need the toilet," K said.

"Tuff," said the weasel.

"I need the toilet or I'm gonna piss myself," K said.

"Piss yourself," said weasel man. K had his hands cuffed in front of him. He thought for a moment.

"I need to piss," K said.

"Tuff," weasel repeated. K slammed his elbows back against the side of the van. It sounded loud inside the confined space.

"I need a piss I need a piss," he yelled banging. The younger officer dragged him to the floor and sat on him. It was only when the full weight of the man landed on him that K stopped shouting. The back door of the van opened and the man who had dragged K to the ground in the garage was standing there, three big unformed men behind him.

"What's going on?" he said when saw the scene.

"I need a piss," K said. The officer sat on K held his hand over K's mouth.

"Sir he needed a piss. We told him to wait and he threw a paddy," he said. K mumbled from beneath the hand, then licked the inside of the officer's palm with his full tongue. The officer pulled his hand away suddenly.

"You dirty fuckin' bastard," he said wiping the hand on his trousers.

"Get off me before I piss myself," K said.

"Let him up," the plain clothed cop said. The giant lifted himself off K and dragged him upright.

"Come on," plain clothes said. He grabbed K by the shoulder and led him to the house. K could see there were arc lights in the garage, on the van and in the hallway. There were men in white paper suits taking pictures and everywhere.

"Something interesting?" Plain clothes said. "Something you want to tell me?"

"I need a piss, that's it," K said. Plain clothes led K through the garage into the house. K was aware the plain clothes was studying his reactions to the search, where he looked and so on. Plain clothes opened the downstairs toilet door pushed K inside then followed him in. He shut the door and stood behind K as he relieved himself.

"I know what happened to you," plain clothes said. "I know about your son and your wife. You don't really want to hurt these kids. Talk to me now, tell me where they are and we can work something out." K said nothing.

"Come on. There are plenty of people who'd do the same as you in your position. You give me the boys and they might go easy on you," plain clothes said. He was very good, but K had gone too far to go soft. He thought of Fletcher and allowed the old anger to rise.

"What boys?" K said and turned to wash his hands. Plain clothes looked straight at him.

"Fine," he said. Plain clothes led K back to the van. Walking in this direction K could see the police had taped off the street and there were a lot of people watching. He could see what he thought was a camera crew too. He climbed back into the van. The big officer smiled and pulled him up by his collar.

"Have a seat," he said, and threw K only the wooden bench. The doors of the van closed. K thought about the press and the cameras.

"What the fuck you smiling at?" weasel said.

'Oh, nothing," K dismissed.

Chapter 30: Makilroy

Josef and Whitlock were sitting in CID at a spare desk. Josef had the file on Keith Kelly laid out in front of him. He'd been reading it for the last two hours. Whitlock had also been reading the file.

"You read this and it all makes sense," she said.

"Not all of it," Josef disagreed.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"The finger nail. What the fuck is that about?"

"I don't get you," she said.

"Everything in this case means something, except the fingernail. I'm still missing something," he said. His mobile rang. Josef picked it up.

"Josef Lindahl," he said. "No comment. How did you get this number?" He stared at the phone.

"They don't waste any time do they?" Whitlock said.

"Vultures," Josef spat.

Josef sipped his coffee and read. His phone rang again.

"Josef Lindahl." He hung up immediately. "They don't give up either?"

Whitlock smiled and turned another sheet of paper.

"Have you seen this? The clothes Daniel came home in?" Josef nodded. "You were right. He really did want us to catch him."

Josef's phone rang again. It was Bentworth.

"Sir?" Josef said.

"We're on our way in now, we'll be there in about twenty minutes. We'll be using CID interview rooms. Where are you?"

"CID Sir," Josef said.

"Come up with anything useful?" Bentworth asked.

"Loads Sir."

"Good." He hung up.

"They'll be here in twenty minutes," Josef said.

"At last," Whitlock replied. "Better get a load of fresh coffee."

When they arrived it was only Bentworth, one uniformed officer, although he was so big he counted at two, and K. They brought him in, K between them, and sat him in an interview room, leaving the bulky officer inside the door watching him. In the hall Bentworth talked with them.

"We're waiting for his solicitor. Should be about ten minutes," he said.

"Where's Mason?" Josef asked.

"I'm keeping him out of this for now. You said you found a lot of stuff," Bentworth said.

"Yes Sir," Josef's phone interrupted them. "Josef Lindahl," he answered. "No comment," he said. He put the phone back in his pocket and looked at Bentworth.

"You found?"

"Yes Sir. Right. All the boys were taken from the front garden and something was left behind." Bentworth looked over Josef's shoulder toward the door. A female PC had come in with tall, slightly podgy, grey haired man in a three piece suit. She spotted Bentworth.

"Mr. Kelly's solicitor," she said.

"Thank you," the solicitor said and came over. "Mr Smythe," he offered his hand.

"DCI Peter Bentworth," Bentworth said offering his hand. "DC Josef Lindahl and PC Kate Whitlock," he continued. They each shook hands.

"I'm going to need to speak with my client in private for a moment," Smythe said.

"Of course," Bentworth smiled and led Smythe to the interview room. He opened the door and allowed Smythe to enter.

"Out here for a minute," Bentworth said to the PC. He shut the door came back to Josef and Whitlock.

"I don't know how long that's going to take," he said. "You were going to tell me what was in the file."

"Yes Sir. The boys were all taken from their gardens Sir. His son was knocked down just outside his own garden, as he was leaving the house. The boy's mother was locking the front door. The car just swerved up onto the curb and ran the boy through his own garden wall. The interview room door opened and Smythe leaned out.

"We're ready for you now," he called.

"Thank you," Bentworth said. He turned to Josef. "I'm going to let you do this. You know about the son. You think you can get him to give you the boys?"

"I don't know Sir, I'll try," Josef said.

"Good."

Josef collected the papers from the desk.

"Come on," he said to Whitlock. She looked at Bentworth.

"Come on," Bentworth echoed. In the interview room Josef and Bentworth sat in the two chairs opposite K and Smythe. Bentworth started the tape recorder and called attendance time and date. Josef began laying pictures on the desk.

"Mr. Kelly. I've read what happened to you son. I think I understand the way you're feeling. We know that your son, Keith Kelly went to the same school as this boy, Daniel Martin. We know that your son took karate lessons with this boy, Jamie Beacham. Your son played football with this boy, Bryan Collridge and we know that your son knew this boy, Shea Bilham because you work with his father. We know you took these boys Mr. Kelly." K said nothing.

"Look at the pictures," Josef said. "Remind you of someone?" K looked blank. Josef pulled a picture from the file. It was a picture of a happy looking kid smiling at the camera. He slapped it on the table.

"Remind you of Keith do they?" he said. K stared at the picture on the table, when he looked up there were tears in his eyes.

"Fuck you," he said.

"No Mr. Kelly. You left us all the clues we needed to find you. The schoolbag, the money, the football boots. It says here in the report," Josef pulled out the paper, "that your son was carrying his schoolbag and football boots. They were thrown into the garden. His dinner money was found on the path and his right shoe was found in next door's garden. You left us those clues so we'd find you. You wanted us to find you. You want to know what I think?" Josef said leaning back.

"Go on Einstein," Kelly said.

"I think you don't want to hurt these boys at all. You're just pissed at what the system did to you. You're trying to prove a point, be heard, make your case. You're not a killer Mr. Kelly," Josef said.

K looked at his brief and nodded. Mr. Smythe pulled a letter from the pile in front of him.

"My client wishes to speak to Judge Albert Makilroy," Smythe said.

"Do you think Makilroy is gonna apologize to you?" Josef said.

"My client says that he will tell Judge Makilroy the whereabouts of the boys, if he knows it, when the Judge defends, in public, the sentence he passed on Mr. Fletcher for the manslaughter of Keith Kelly," Smythe said.

"What?" Bentworth gasped.

"You heard," K snapped. "Get Makilroy in here."

Bentworth looked at Josef.

"A word outside. CDI Bentworth and DC Lindahl leave the room." When the door was closed Bentworth said. "What the fuck was that?"

"It's his end game Sir. It's what all this was about."

"What do you mean his end game? I can't go tell a circuit court judge to come in here and be put on trial," Bentworth said.

"Don't you see Sir that's the point? Right now he's calling the shots in there. He's passing the responsibility for the kids from him to you to the judge. Who's going to value their life the most?"

"Let's call his bluff. Let's tell him no," Bentworth said.

"You can try it Sir, but I don't recommend it."

"How much damage could it do?"

"No idea Sir."

"Shit!" Bentworth said. "I'll got to make a call, get back in there and don't let him talk to that solicitor." Josef went back inside.

"DC Lindahl enters the room," Whitlock said. Josef offered her Bentworth's chair. She sat. He pulled out few more papers.

"One thing I don't understand," Josef said. "The fingernail? I mean I get the schoolbag and stuff. And we even saw you sent Daniel Martin home in the same clothes Keith had been wearing when he died. You really wanted us to catch you I know, before you had to hurt one of the boys. But I don't get the fingernail." He put a picture of the dead body of Keith Martin on the table. "Keith wasn't missing a fingernail," he said softly.

K stared at the picture.

"You bastard," he said softly. Josef took the picture and put it back in the file.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I just want the boys home safe. That's all. Tell about the fingernail." K looked as his hands.

"Jemma hung herself while I was in prison."

"You don't have to answer that," Smythe interrupted.

"It's okay," K said and continued. "They let me out for her funeral. I read the report from the inquest. They said after she hung herself she clawed at the rope. They think she changed mind and tried to get it off. She tore one of her fingernails out before she died."

Josef could feel the man's anger and pain.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Yeah, well. Not everyone is."

Bentworth opened the door and popped his head in.

"Can I have a word again," he said. Josef got up and left. Whitlock looked at K.

"I hope the judge comes," she said.

"Me too."

Bentworth looked worried.

"He's coming," he said. "The Super took care of it."

"You think the judge will agree to what he wants?" Josef asked.

"Not a chance in hell but we've got to try. I did my bit. I got him to come."

"I'm not sure that's gonna be enough," Josef said. They went back inside the interview room. Whitlock announced their return and went back to her position by the door.

"Makilroy is gonna be here in about half an hour," Bentworth said. K looked surprised.

"You're not lying?" he said.

"Nope. But nobody thinks he's gonna agree to what you want," Josef said.

"Well we'll just have to wait and see, won't we."

"I don't think you want these boys to suffer any more than they have already," Bentworth said. "Tell us where they are."

"What boys?" K smiled.

"I think we might as well take a break there until Judge Makilroy arrives," Smythe said. "My client doesn't wish to answer any more questions at present."

"Interview suspended at eight thirty three," Bentworth and stopped the recorder.

"Coffee anyone," Josef offered.

When Josef and Whitlock came back from the canteen with a tray Bentworth was on the phone.

"How did you get this number," he was saying. "Don't call again." He hung up.

"You too Sir?" Josef said.

"Twice in the last ten minutes."

"Makes you wonder how they get the numbers," Josef observed.

"Bloody reporters buy them. Brothers, sisters, anyone who has it!" Bentworth complained.

They went back into the meeting room and put the coffee on the table. Josef's mobile rang.

"Josef Lindahl," he said. "No comment now stop calling." He put the phone on the table. Ten minutes later Bentworth's phone rang.

"Bentworth. Okay I'll come get him." K's eyes shot up. "It's Makilroy. I'll bring him up." Bentworth left he room.

"What if this doesn't go how you've planned it?" Josef asked.

"I don't have a plan," K shrugged.

"Of course you do. I want to know what happens to these boys if Makilroy won't agree. What's the plan?"

"Let's just see what happens," K smiled grimly.

"I want to know what happens," Josef pushed.

"Let's see," K said, this time not smiling at all.

"I want those boys," Josef leaned forward. "Whatever happens." K leaned back in his chair.

"What boys?" he hissed.

Josef got up and left the room. He wanted to meet the Judge before this went any further. He waited in CID, his mind racing. The Judge was arguing with Bentworth when they entered the office.

"I don't discuss my sentences with anyone, not even other judges," Makilroy was saying. The man was old and he had a hard look about him. As though you could only take chips off him with a hammer. His short grey hair was slicked back and although he was receding he was not bald.

"Your Honor. If we can just bluff him he might tell us where the boys are," Bentworth said diplomatically.

"Chief Detective Inspector," Makilroy said. He somehow managed to make the rank sound demeaning. "I know how to handle criminals. I know how their mind works. I have been a judge for fifteen years. Please let me handle this. I have come here to help you. Not vice versa." Bentworth saw Josef waiting and brushed aside the condescension with practiced ease.

"Your Honor this is DC Josef Lindahl. He's been questioning Kelly." Josef offered his hand.

"Please to meet you," Makilroy said. "Shall we start?"

"Your Honor," Josef pleaded, "I really feel that the only way we can get Mr. Kelly to tell us where the boys are is to agree to his terms." Makilroy was outraged.

"I'll do no such thing Detective Constable," he sneered. Josef felt like something Makilroy would scrape from his shoe. "I will certainly make sure that Mr. Kelly understands the full weight of the law will come crashing down on him if he doesn't cooperate straight away. We'll see how clever he is then."

"Judge," Josef continued regardless, "Mr. Kelly doesn't care about the law. He wants justice for his son. In his state of mind." Makilroy cut Josef off.

"In his state of mind? Good God man, he's running rings around you like a child. There is nothing wrong with Mr. Kelly's state of mind and if he's got you believing he's a cold blooded murderer then you are more stupid than you look. I've seen plenty of hardened criminals and Mr. Kelly most certainly is not hard." Josef was about to argue when Bentworth shook his head over the judge's shoulder. Josef stood silent.

"Good. Shall we get on with it then?"

"I just need to pop to the loo," Josef said. "I'll be with you in a minute." As Josef crossed the CID office he looked back. Bentworth and Makilroy were going into the meeting room.

"Prick," Josef muttered and pushed the toilet door. On the way in he checked his phone.

When Josef entered the interview room Bentworth was standing. The judge was sitting in Bentworth's chair. Josef sat and started the tape. Bentworth called attendance. K was staring so intensely at the judge that Josef thought for a minute he might just leap over the table and kill the Judge. He realized Bentworth had read the situation the same way and that's why he was stood at the end of the table.

The Judge's stare was equal to K's.

"Where are the boys?" the Judge said.

"How do you justify the sentence you gave to Mark Fletcher for the manslaughter of my son?" K said.

"I did not come here to discuss that with you," Makilroy said. "I came here to give you a chance to tell me where the boys are."

Josef's phone rang, everyone looked at him.

"Sorry," he said picking it up. "Josef Lindahl. I said no comment," he snapped. He put the phone on the table. "Sorry," he repeated.

"If you didn't come here to discuss my son then you'd better go," K said.

"Tell me where the boys are?" Makilroy insisted.

"I'll tell you when you justify for me why my son's life was worth two thousand pounds and to these parents, their son was worth every penny they had."

"It seems to me that eighteen thousand was not enough for the life of Jamie Beacham." Makilroy sneered.

"Ask his parents what they'd give now," K shouted. "They only gave half what they could have. Ask them, if they could go back right now, ask them how much they'd give then."

"Tell me where the boys are."

"Justify the sentence."

"I do not have to justify myself to you," Makilroy said.

"Then justify yourself to the families of those kids. Tell them what you think their children are worth." Both men were getting angry and shouting, K had tears in his eyes.

"I didn't take their children. You did. I'm not responsible for what happens to them."

"I'm making you responsible Judge. I want to know how you value life. You told me my son was worth two thousand pounds and a two year driving ban. So that's all these boys mean to me. Hell I've got six thousand pounds and I don't need a car. What're their lives worth to you?"

"I'm not going to be put on trial here," Makilroy said. "I do not have to justify what happens in my courtroom to anyone, least of all a criminal like you."

"Yes you are," K said.

"You are not going to tell me what to do."

"That's the point you fuck. You're going to decide what to do yourself."

"Tell me where the boys are," Makilroy said.

"What boys?" K spat.

"Mr/ Kelly you just burned any credit you had with me." Makilroy was shouting. "When you appear in court I'm going to personally make sure you suffer the full penalty of the law."

"Do you think I care about the law?" K said.

"Are you just going to let these boy's die?" Makilroy said.

"Are you?" K snapped. "Justify Fletcher's sentence to the press and they're yours. You could be the hero Judge, the man who saved these boys."

"I don't justify myself to anyone."

"You'll justify yourself to God."

"And that'll be between me and him," Makilroy pointed to the ceiling.

"And you can tell that to these boy's parents. You could have saved their sons, but you don't justify yourself to anyone."

"No I don't," Makilroy said. He stood. "It's obvious I can't help you here. I'll be outside."

When he'd left the room everyone was silent. After a moment Josef picked up his phone.

"Oh dear," he said showing the phone to Bentworth. "I didn't hang up properly. I do hope no one was listening." Josef's tone said everything. He put the phone face up on the table and disconnected the call.

Bentworth stared at Josef, as did K, Smythe and Whitlock. Bentworth was staring for a long time.

"You. No. Shit. Was that real?" he said. Josef nodded. "You helped a killer?" said Bentworth pointing at K. "You're fired," Bentworth fumed and stormed out.

"What did you do?" Whitlock stared incredulously.

"Jamie Beacham's not dead. He said he could afford six thousand pounds, not four." Josef nodded at K. He turned to Whitlock and stood.

"No one else seemed to give a shit about these boys. I can get another job." Josef leaned over the table to K. "When this is in tomorrow's papers you give the boys up right?" he said. K looked at Smythe, who nodded.

"Sure," he said smiling.

Chapter 31: Josef

When Josef woke it was after Midday but that was fine. It was three weeks since he'd been suspended pending an inquiry. He fixed himself a nice brunch of BLT's and coffee. He looked at the thank you cards stuck on the front of the fridge. There were quite a few. The Martins, the Beachams, the Collridges and the Bilhams had sent them. He took down the last two. He read K's again first.

'There is still some justice left. Thank you. Harvey Kelly'. Josef slipped that behind the other one. He opened Kate's card.

'I think you were right. I'm sorry only you had to pay the price. Katrina'.

Josef smiled and stuck them back on the fridge. He was enjoying the peace and quiet and it was chance to read.

Josef cursed as the phone rang and searched beneath a pile of newspapers scattered across the table. They showed dramatic scenes of the cottage in Hampshire where the boys had been kept. The police had released pictures of the inside of the cottage and details of the conditions about a week ago. The world had seen the video games and TVs and food. The press had paid a lot of money for a chance to interview Jamie Beacham about his ordeal, but the boy had merely said K had helped put him to sleep and when he woke up his finger had been bandaged and he was in a bigger room with four beds in it. It seemed as though K thought this might take a while and had converted the cellar into a dormitory for the boys he didn't return.

The papers had run a manuscript of the tape of the judge, and it had been aired on every radio channel and news program. Harvey Kelly had been turned into an unofficial vigilante hero, mostly due to the care he'd taken in keeping the boys safe and well and happy. The public sympathy over the death of his wife and son were a catalyst along with a failsafe that he'd set up on the cottage. If a timer inside the cottage was not reset every 96 hours then it set off an alarm to the police. Harvey Kelly was still looking at a long time in prison but Josef knew he wasn't bothered about it. Josef didn't think he would get much trouble inside, and if his trial went well he might even get an open prison.

Josef hadn't managed to stay out of the papers either. He'd had to change his mobile number just to stop the reporters calling. He'd been offered a lot of money for his story but that seemed unimportant. He was the rebel policeman who helped one man get justice for his wife and son. Josef was bloody thankful for two things though, firstly his picture had not appeared in any newspaper. Secondly nobody had printed the fact that he had called a reporter from the CID toilets and had arranged to be called in the interview room so the judge could be taped. He'd have been sacked instantly if that came out. He found the phone on the fifth ring.

"Josef Lindahl," he said.

"Jo its Bentworth. Something has come up I want to you to look at," he said.

"Sir?" Josef puzzled. "Aren't I suspended?"

"You can go back to being suspended afterward," he said.

Andy Crowson is a motor engineer and IT Specialist in the computers that control motor vehicles. He and lives in Orebro, Sweden, with his wife Etta and teaches IT and Motor Engineering at a Vocational College. Other works include the novel "To Kill or Not to Kill" also available from Smashwords or your usual supplier.
