NATIONAL TREASURE by Barry Faulkner (life books to read .TXT) 📗

I use at London City Airport and booked a flight to Debrecen airport in Hungary for the morning, the nearest airport to the Romanian border, I wasn’t going to fly into Bucharest direct as no doubt the news of Alexandru’s death would have reached the family, and they’d have put two and two together and linked it to Janie’s kidnap and be watching the arrivals for me. Why me? Well, ‘Big Tony’ wouldn’t be too happy with me leaving a bullet in his foot and would have named me, no doubt. Perhaps I should have put one in his head too. Am I getting soft?

I rang Gold and told her my plan.

‘Okay, I’ll get a flight into Bucharest tomorrow and sort out a place to stay, so keep a low profile until I call you.’ Sometimes she’s like a mother to me.

The next thing on the agenda was a gun. I didn’t want to walk into the Bogdans’ home turf unarmed, but both Hungary and Rumania have some of the toughest gun laws in Europe. I’d cross that bridge when I got there.

The evening news was full of pictures of what happened at the Bucharest Club the evening before, and vox-pops of clubbers giving their stories. I smiled at ‘Big Tony’ being stretchered into an ambulance and refusing to answer the reporters’ questions being shouted at him; he didn’t look happy. The anchor in the studio said the police had not commented, but it looked like gang warfare had broken out, probably drugs related. Well, they got that bit right. I turned my mobile off; Clancy would be after me like a pack of hounds on a hare when he got wind of it.

I took a stroll out later that evening and picked up a couple of Big Macs; I couldn’t be bothered to cook and they’re quite filling. Washed them down with a French style coffee, watched a bit of TV and went to bed. The charter flight was booked for late morning the next day, so I could get a good night’s sleep after a good couple of days’ work.

 

    CHAPTER 7

I like flying. But I don’t like flying crammed inside a steel tube with two hundred holidaymakers, and a snotty kid looking over the seat in front blowing bubbles with his nose – no, I don’t like that at all. I’m not one for crowds; a deserted beach or windswept moor, yes – Bournemouth on Bank Holiday weekend, no. So a twelve-seater Cessna charter flight with no other passengers suited me just fine. The air charter company I use know me; they know I like privacy and they know I’m sometimes in a hurry to get into or out of a country. They also know I pay promptly.

There was a low cloud base over Europe so not much to see, but there’s something very soothing about clouds and the pictures they make. Gold hates them; says she sees the faces of dead colleagues in them. I told her to let me know if she ever sees me. My soothing period was brought to an abrupt end by Clancy on my mobile. I’d only had it turned on for three minutes and there he was.

‘What the Hell went on at the Bucharest Club, Nevis? You re-enacting the Gunfight at the OK Corral? The shit has really hit the fan now!’ He was really angry.

‘I had a disagreement with Bogdan.’

‘I told you we had a team watching him.’

‘Well, nobody to watch now.’

‘The Commissioner’s gone up the bloody wall and the Home Secretary is after blood!’

‘Should be some on the floor in Bogdan’s office.’

‘And you are all over the CCTV. Your office has been watched all night and the only thing stopping an international arrest warrant going out on you is me. Where are you?’

‘On a plane going to get the missing girl back – she’s in Romania. Bogdan took her because Randall owes him the money back for the Essex job. He paid upfront for the drugs and didn’t get them, he wants his money back and he thinks Marcia Johnson has it. He didn’t know they had separated twenty years ago.’

That set Clancy back on his heels for a few seconds. ‘Nor did I.’

‘The money’s gone – I don’t know where, but Bogdan wasn’t going to get it back and he’d take a lot of convincing. Next thing Marcia Johnson would get would probably have been one of Janie’s fingers. That wasn’t going to happen on my watch.’

‘Right, now listen to me and listen carefully, okay?’

‘I’m listening.’

‘I have made this missing girl an official enquiry. It’s been shifted over to my office, seeing that Organised Crime and Bogdan was involved.’

‘So you want me to pull out?’ No way would I do that.

‘No, no, I don’t want you to pull out. I said listen, so just listen.’

‘Okay.’ Yes sir.

‘Remember I told you I’d take an unofficial look at the Essex job, and I have. There were three AROs involved – their reports of the sting says the plane didn’t drop anything, but veered off at the last moment. The pilot must have seen something, probably them or their vehicles, and no money or drugs were found at the scene. Randall must have got a message from the pilot as he was out of the vehicle and started shooting wildly into the thicket – one of the AROs took a bullet to the arm and that’s when the others shot back and hit Randall. His driver sped off and got away.’

‘Nothing in the news reports of the time about a driver?’

‘No, there’s not.’

‘Is that where the money is?’

‘With the driver?’

‘Yes.’

‘No, there wouldn’t have been any money at the scene, why would there be? The pilot’s not going to open a window, put out his hand and collect