Chapter 4

A sky of blue ice and high cloud domes over chill air, carrying the promise of winter. The day is so still; barely a breath of wind. The smallest sound carries.

Bech walks, his shoes click clicking over flags, cobbles and concrete. Mitch hangs back, running lightly, dashing from one hidden corner to another as he moves.

Bech pauses, turns… Looks…

Mitch ducks into a doorway, freezes…

After a moment… the receding sound of shoes.

Quickly, Mitch slips out from her bare cover…

Where is he?

*****

Most of the glass is long gone, but the rusted sockets remain, more or less, in the ruins of a basement window. Grey daylight trickles down from ground level, along with rain, flakes of rust and the occasional rat.

The building was once an abattoir. No longer. But here below ground-level, what remains of the fittings have come in useful.

Handcuffed and up-stretched, chained to an ancient meat hook, Frank screams as he sees it coming, the sound swallowed as a fist crashes into his gut. “Larry, please…” His voice gutters.

An ankle folded over a knee, Klempner sits on a straight-back wooden chair, such as might be found in any household kitchen. He could be eating popcorn. Stacked by the wall are rolls of canvas, heavy chain, padlocks and carabiners.

“Shut up, Frank. I’m not much interested in hearing what you have to say.” He stands, comes up close, breath heating his prisoner’s face as he speaks. “She was mine. You knew that. But you took her anyway. Now it’s payback time.”

He stands back, nodding to McCullen, who plants his fist again, this time in the ribs.

Frank screams and sobs.

*****

Where did he go?

Mitch sprints forward. A maze of alleys, derelict work sheds and abandoned machinery lies ahead of her. High brick walls block her view. She can hear footsteps, but they echo, reverberating against the hard landscape, seeming to come from all directions and none.

Where is he?

She dashes one way, then another, looking for another glimpse of a blue uniform…

*****

“Ah, Bech, there you are.” Klempner casts an eye to his captain. “Everything in order? Stopped your rumours?”

“And started a few of my own.” Bech circles the quivering Frank. “He behaving himself?”

“More or less. Not squealing as much as I’d like, but we’ll see what we can do about that.”

“On the subject of squealing… It’s carrying outside.”

“That right? Not a problem.” Klempner jerks a thumb at McCullen, then at a reel of duct tape. “Close his mouth.”

Frank’s eyes widen as tape, three inches wide, heavyweight, winds over his mouth and around his head, then again, another layer.

“Make sure he can breathe,” says Klempner. “Keep his airways clear. I don’t want him leaving the party early.”

Frank gulps and chokes, a thin trickle of blood from one nostril oozing over blue plastic tape.

Bech says, “Are you intending to play with your new toy for a while? Or can I have a few minutes?” He takes a notebook from a jacket pocket, offering it to Klempner. “I’ve some intel from Myers over in Poland. He’s saying it’s brimming with possibilities but he wants your okay before he commits to the financials…”

“Sounds promising. You can talk me through it.” He turns to McCullen. “Keep at it. I’ll not be long. Bech…” He jerks his head towards the door.”

*****

From the shelter of a doorway, Mitch watches. Larry’s there, by the door, discussing something with his ‘cop’.

The car’s there too, the one she saw Frank bundled into, partly obscuring her view of the two men.

Is there another entrance?

Dropping back, she looks for a way of skirting around without being seen.

*****

“Nice work, Bech. Yes, get on with it. Tell Myers he has full authority. Give him what he’s asking for but tell him if he needs more finance to get in touch.”

“I’ll do that, sir.” Bech touches his cap, makes to leave…

“You’re not staying?”

“I’ll catch up with you later.” Bech holds up the notebook. “I’ll get this lot in place then I’ll join you by the bridge.” He glances up and around. “Be dark soon. What time you aiming for?”

“Oh, eleven. Maybe midnight.” Klempner jerks a thumb back to the door. “I’d like to give my guest time to consider his sins and repent.”

Bech huffs without humor, turns and walks. Klempner grins a shark-grin, then heads back inside.

*****

Bech almost walks past it. Then he stops mid-stride and swivels through one-eighty.

Conners’ car

She must be here…

He circles the vehicle, then stops, peering in through the glass.

He taps on the window, then again. Vivid green eyes open, seeming too large for the small face framing them.

“Hello.”

The green eyes survey him. The face doesn’t smile.

“Mommy asked me to come and get you. Open the door.” He taps a fingernail on the glass by the door button.

The toddler doesn’t move. The face grows suspicious.

Reaching into a pocket, Bech pulls out gloves, slips one on then tries to slide his hand through the open window. But his hand jams at the wrist.

Sucking in his cheeks he ambles back the way he came, casting around for…

He’ll know it when he sees it…

A stack of garbage… old tires, smashed doors, a broken bed frame, a twisted shopping trolley - minus wheels…

He looks back…

The bed frame… with a sprung mattress base, corroded and with wires hanging loose. Choosing a dangling wire he works it back and forth until it snaps off. Smirking, he heads back to the car, bending the end of the wire into a hook as he walks.

Sliding it down between window and door, lips pressed flat in concentration, Bech jiggles the wire until he feels it engage, then tugs.

Clunk. The lock releases.

As he opens the door, the orange-haired brat shrinks from him, but strapped into her child seat, can't do any more. Making the kind of clucking noises he imagines might persuade a small child to remain silent, Bech unclips the harness and lifts her out. “I know someone who’ll want to see you.”

“Want Mommy.” The little girl’s wail carries across the bleak brick and stone landscape, but there’s no-one to hear. No-one who matters, anyway.

“I'm taking you to Mommy. Just be quiet then I can tell her you've been a good girl.”

Once she's inside, she can squeal as much as she wants...

*****