Target by Simon Kernick Page B

him with a bottle, but it wasn't that pronounced. I think the plastic surgery must have got rid of most of it, which makes me think that at one time he must have been hurt pretty badly.'
    Tina frowned as she wrote down this information. It all seemed so improbable somehow, yet her initial suspicions that Fallon had indeed been telling the truth were turning out to be correct. 'This man didn't hurt you, did he?'
    'No, but he left me in no doubt that he would if I carried on searching for Jenny. That's why I'm phoning you from four hundred yards down the road. I don't want anyone else listening in.'
    'And are you sure you're not being followed now?'
    'I'm being extra careful, I promise.'
    'Glad to hear it. And don't worry. We can offer you protection if you need it.' But even as she said the words, Tina wondered if they actually could.
    Fallon sighed. 'I think I'm going to need it. What did you find out that made you call me?'
    She told him about the doctored CCTV footage and the doorman's criminal record.
    'So, the bastard was involved.'
    'Almost certainly, and that makes it a major criminal operation. If they're going to this much trouble and planning, then there's a very specific reason why they kidnapped Jenny. Her father claims that nothing's happened to her—'
    'He's lying. He's got to be.'
    'I agree. And I think he's lying because he's under duress, which means the kidnappers are in contact with him. But we still don't know why.'
    'It's usually money, isn't it?'
    'Usually, but I'd be surprised if it was in this case. I've got some background on Roy Brakspear. He's a widower who lost his wife to cancer five years ago, and he's the director and part owner of a reasonably profitable mid-sized company based in Cambridge which supplies raw materials to the pharmaceuticals and technology sectors. He takes a salary of one hundred and seventy thousand pounds per year and he holds fifteen per cent of the company's shares, which if he sold them tomorrow would net him about three hundred thousand. He's not going to be hitting the poverty line any time soon, but it doesn't make him a rich man. So there's something else, and I think we need to focus on Brakspear himself to find out what it is.'
    'What do you need me to do?' asked Fallon, sounding eager to help.
    'Right now, nothing. Go back home, get some sleep and leave the investigating to us.'
    'Are you going to take finding Jenny seriously now? She's been gone twenty-four hours, and I'm really worried about her.'
    'We've got enough evidence to move on this now so, yes, we are going to take it seriously. And I'll keep you informed of progress too, you have my word on that. But I want you to promise me you're not going to speak to anyone about this. Because if you do, it could jeopardize our inquiry.'
    Fallon said he wouldn't, and she ended the call, returning to the pile of witness statements for the stabbing on the Holloway Road that afternoon.
    It made the usual grim reading. A loud argument between a bunch of school kids, insults thrown, followed by a flurry of fists and feet, then suddenly one of them pulls a knife and plunges it into his nearest opponent. A single stab wound to the chest, delivered without thought of the consequences, and now a fifteen-year-old was in a hospital bed fighting for his life. Tina had never become inured to the casual violence she had to deal with and she found incidents like this – petty, pointless disputes that ended so horrifically and with so much attendant suffering – profoundly depressing. The only positive was that it wasn't going to be difficult to ID the perpetrator. This meant that CID resources could be freed up to look for Jenny. Tina had now decided to speak to DCI Knox about it as soon as she finished her shift. With Jenny missing for twenty-four hours now, time really was of the essence. It crossed her mind to go straight to the Met's Kidnap Unit but she knew they were snowed under with drugs-related cases and probably wouldn't