Passion Patrol 2 - a Sexy Police Romance Suspense Novel With a Touch of Humor: Hot Cops. Hot Crime. Hot Romance. (29 page)

Her iPhone was ringing. It was Spencer again.

“He phoned my mother about 7:30 last night.”

“Where is she,” asked Shannon, realizing they’d never talked about his family.

“Edinburgh. He asked if he could come and see her. He told her he had a problem and begged her not to contact any one. He said he wouldn’t come if anyone knew where he was. He assured her that once they’d had a chat she’d understand. He admitted it involved Jasmine and he didn’t think I’d listen.”

“It’s not your fault, Spencer. Since Saskia died she’s told him he must never criticize her for fear of ruining your future. He’s just a kid after all.”

“My mother has never really taken to Jasmine. Ben would see her as an ally. Reluctantly mother agreed.”

“I love her already.”

“He said he was getting a train, maybe the overnight. She was expecting him this morning.”

“Any contact since then?”

“No, just that one call.”

“Did he say where he was?”

“No, he just rang off.”

“May I ask if you’ve heard from Jasmine?”

“No, not directly. It slipped my mind but Prince Xavier spoke to me yesterday. Apparently he plans to marry her. I fear that Jasmine plays devious games with several options.”

“She must be forty. Xavier is twenty-four.”

“How do you know his age?”

“I checked him out. A match made in heaven, Spencer. Just sit tight for a while. I’m going to get onto this train to Scotland idea.”

“Where is he? Where is he?”

She could hear the desperation in his voice. In truth she felt helpless. She was sick of saying he’d show up. In her heart she knew something had happened to him. There was no activity from him at all. There was a dread in her that she dare not express. There was nothing to show he was alive.

She checked her in-box. The bank authorization had come through. She phoned their security center and quoted all the codes and passwords.

“OK, there’s activity,” said a calm male voice.

“What?”

“7:46 p.m. last night. Attempt to purchase train ticket at Kings Cross. Transaction declined, insufficient funds. Ten minutes later, cash withdrawal at Kings Cross ATM of fifty pounds. This afternoon at 3:52 p.m. attempt to draw cash of three hundred pounds in Euston Road. Declined, insufficient funds. Then there’s a check balance transaction. There’s one pound 43 pence in the account.”

She noted all the details and thanked him. Any further use, she would be contacted at once. She sat back and thought. OK, he’d tried to buy a train ticket. He’d failed and then drawn cash. Obviously it wasn’t him who’d tried to use the card in Euston Road. Whoever it was had hoped to scoop the maximum possible withdrawal allowance. Then they’d checked the balance. This was not good. Someone had his card and his PIN number. Someone criminal. She phoned British Transport Police Control and introduced herself.

“I need to see your CCTV footage from Kings Cross between 19.30 and about 20.30 hours last night. It’s a high priority case. I need to do it tonight.”

Within a few minutes it was fixed. She arranged to be there in a couple of hours. Now she had a quest. At least she would be able to spot him at the station. Who could tell what she’d learn. She needed to get out of uniform. She recovered her police car and gunned it back to Fleetworth-Green. She made some sandwiches and called Spencer.

“I’ve got a lead at Kings Cross station last night. I’m going to see the video.”

“Is there any way I can come with you?”

“No, but I’ll pick you up in ten minutes. Try not to look too posh.”

She dressed in jeans, walking boots and an unmarked hoodie. An hour later they were at the Transport Police control room in Broadway SW1. She flashed her warrant card and introduced Spence, her colleague. They’d done a first class job for her. A young WPC showed them to a desk set up with a monitor, and demonstrated the controls.

Shannon started the footage at 19:45 hours. The ATM was busy.

“There he is,” said Spencer.

“And he’s not alone,” added Shannon.

“I can’t see anyone.”

She panned out from the ATM. Two kids, one male and one female of about Ben’s age were standing watching him. She reversed the action and watched the same youngsters loitering near the Prêt-à-Manger shop. The girl wandered through tables and snatched uneaten items of food. The boy approached a middle-aged man who appeared to give him a cigarette.

“What are they up to?” asked Spencer.

“My guess is that they’re runaways, probably missing for months. This looks like a regular pitch.”

“Regular pitch?”

Yeah, begging, scrounging, scavenging, dipping, and probably offering sex or drugs.”

“Where do they live? Who looks after them?”

“They look after themselves. Odds are they’ve been in council homes most of their lives. Now and then they get locked up or put in care but it’s not long before they’re back on the streets.”

The video ran on. Ben walked onto the concourse and went to the ticket machines. The kids seemed to spot him straight away and moved in closer. As he turned away from the ATM, his cash still in his hand, the girl almost stood in his way while she spoke to him. The boy approached and immediately pick-pocketed Ben’s phone and wallet.

“Did you see that?” said Spencer.

“Yeah, it’s not a surprise.”

They watched as Ben chatted with the girl. She was smiling and seemed friendly. The boy had circled away and came back with an older man. He looked relatively smart but had a large tattoo on the side of his face and neck. He was smiling and joined in the chat. He took hold of Ben’s arm. As the lad tried to pull away the others crowded in on him. Unnoticed the small group moved away and out into Pentonville Road.

“We can get some images from the front of the station and from Met Police CCTV,” she said, watching the implications of what they’d just seen sink into Spencer’s mind. His face was white.

“Oh, my God! That creature has taken him. What can we do? What can we do?”

It was a question that Shannon was processing as fast as she could. One thing she knew above all else. Time was everything. The longer he was missing, the more danger he was in. Already they had obtained his PIN number. She didn’t tell him that kids were given drugs to get them hooked and made ready for prostitution. Once they were on crack, they would sell their mothers.

“How long will it take to get them identified and arrested?” he asked.

“Who knows? These folk don’t have official permanent addresses. They don’t have credit ratings or sign up to vote.”

“That man looked an evil animal.”

“Spencer, there’s two ways to go here.” She paused to search his eyes. “Some police officers will know that lot. They may or may not know where to find them immediately. They may or not be on duty and we may or may not be able to use their knowledge. If I flag up my interest in these guys, then anything that happens to them can link back to me.”

“You said there are two ways.”

“If we go the formal route, we might get lucky and arrest someone sometime. Then we tell them they don’t have to say anything and then maybe they decide not to. In the meantime the clock is ticking.”

“I’m following you,” he said.

“I was sent out to Fleetworth-Green for kicking in doors and breaking rules. I’ve been trying to go straight. In this case I think we’ve got to act now and worry later.”

“You’re right.”

“You’re an SAS hero, I couldn’t ask for more could I? Once we go on the wild side that’s where we stay. We can’t change to good guys. I can’t arrest someone and then knock their teeth out. Once I say I’m a cop we’re doomed to the ways of bloody righteousness. If we start then we have to see it through.”

“I understand.”

“Right, if that guy was about last night he’ll be about tonight. He knows what happened to Ben and we need to ask him. If we don’t spot him within a couple of hours, I’ll go good cop. For now I’m no cop.”

“Agreed.”

“Let’s go.”

She drove to Kings Cross and parked illegally on the pavement in Railway Street. It could link her to the area but if she had to she could scam her way out of it. A few minutes later they strolled onto the concourse. Starbucks was open. They took a seat by the window. It was time for a final briefing.

“If we spot any of those suspects we need to ask some questions. We use any means to get quick answers, OK?” she said.

“If this goes wrong you’ll lose your job,” he said.

“I won’t need a job in prison, Major.”

He looked at her.

“By Christ there’s some steel in you,” he said.

She looked away from him and scanned the activity. Bingo! There he was, talking to some other kid.

Spencer’s eyes narrowed. His face hardened. He was still a fearless soldier and there was a target in the cross hairs.

“We can’t move in here. We’ve got to go out and split up. As he leaves the concourse we’ll follow,” she said.

The suspect was six feet but scrawny. He was jumpy and pale. By his look he was an amphetamine user. She glanced at some books in WH Smiths while Spencer studied the destination display. After a few minutes the youth returned with a briefcase and handed it to him. The target made off at once out into the street. Another youth collected the briefcase and ran away at something of a sprint. It was a smooth operation. For a while after he lounged about at the corner of the Caledonian Road talking on a mobile phone. It was getting dark. Shannon walked right past him and pulled into some shadows in a small park. The suspect was on the move, Spencer about twenty yards behind him. She let him pass. She caught the reek of stale sweat, cigarettes, and human dirt. She let Spencer go by and then crossed the road. This was good, they were moving out of the main road area. She overtook them at a jog and crossed back to the same side so that they were approaching from behind her. She turned to face him. She could see Spencer right behind. This was it!

“You got anything mate,” she asked.

“What you want?”

“What ya fink—Crystal innit.”

“Might ’ave.”

“You want a girl for it?”

He smiled. His teeth were dirty and uneven.

“Yeah, suck my....”

Spencer’s hand came around his mouth as he drove a karate blow into his back. Shannon slammed her foot into his groin and felt unmistakable contact with his bag of nuts. The target convulsed. She could see the terror and pain in his face. She’d chosen the spot at the end of an entrance into a residential area. She noted the name—Priory Green. They walked a short distance, Spencer still holding his hand over his mouth and moving him along with his knee into the back of his thighs. There was a gap behind a garage block hemmed-in by railings.

“Make a noise and I’ll kick your bollocks to a mash,” said Spencer.

He threw him down against a metal post.

“You took a boy from the station last night. I want him or you get some more.”

“Yeah, all right.”

“Where is he?” asked Spencer.

The suspect didn’t answer.

Shannon grabbed his greasy hair and rammed her fist against his mouth.

“D’ya want some teeth knocked out or what? He said he wants that boy.”

“I’ll show ya.”

She dragged him up by the hair. There was a smell of excrement. He’d messed himself.

“Any tricks and we won’t be friends anymore,” said Spencer.

They walked either side of him, gripping his arms. They entered a concrete high-rise building and climbed steps to the sixth floor. They went out onto a balcony. She could sense a growing hesitation in the guy. Suddenly he pulled away and flashed a knife. Spencer casually sidestepped it and rifled a blow into his guts. He doubled up and squealed. The weapon fell to the floor.

“You can go over the edge if you want,” said Spencer.

A door opened ahead of them. The kid from the station CCTV stepped out.

She left Spencer with the guy and advanced on him.

“Don’t fuck with me. I want the boy you picked up last night.”

“Fuck off bitch.”

In two strides she was holding him in a front swan neck wrist lock. He yelled in pain. He was just an undernourished youngster. She swung him round through the door and into the flat. It stank of sweat and smoke. Silver foil and some glass tubes from crack smoking were littered on the floor. She spotted a syringe on a table and an ad-hoc carpet of reefer butts. In the corner was a stained ragged mattress. A girl lay there clearly out of her head. It was a routine enough scene to Shannon.

“Ben!” she called out.

“Who’s that?” he answered from behind a door.

“Stand away,” she ordered

She tried the handle. It was locked. She had her own key. Her foot hit the lock and the frame splintered. Ben charged out. She could see he was about to say her name. She put her hand to his mouth. He quickly understood. Spencer had come in with the tattooed guy. Shannon could see the joy in his face at seeing Ben.