The Hard Way by Duncan Brockwell (electronic book reader .txt) 📗

out in the courtyard below. When he jumped up from his chair and went to the window, there were five pandas and two plain police cars down there. “Oh shit!”

In that second he realised he was screwed. Vanu was right to be paranoid; they were here to destroy his project. Whoever hired them never wanted it to see the light of day. His blue Fiesta, with its secret to tell would be silenced forever, his company discredited somehow. Sweat ran down his forehead.

He had to do something. Richard needed time to think, damn it! As he watched uniforms exit their vehicles, he remembered the key. He ran to his desk, yanked the drawer out and picked it up. “Now, where to hide you.”

In a Eureka moment, he decided the best place to hide the key to the safe deposit box was down the drain in the centre of the workshop. “Perfect.” With sweat pouring down his face, he took a white envelope out of the drawer, then ran down the iron steps, his feet barely hitting the stairs, until he was on the ground floor.

Outside, he heard voices calling his name.

Richard had seconds before they came flooding in and arrested him on some fictional charge. He ran to the Fiesta, opened its driver door, took out the key and bunged it in the envelope with the locker key.

With seconds to spare, he ran back to the drain, scooped down, and struggled to open the small lid, placing the envelope inside. He then replaced the lid and stood.

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he sent Charlotte a quick text saying, ‘Key in drain in workshop. Being arrested. Come get key. Important!’ Then he sent it, with his back to the front door.

“Mr Richard Fisher?” a voice called.

“Yes?” He deleted the message to his sister, before turning to find a workshop full of mostly uniformed cops in front of him. His hands shook with adrenaline. The two suits who spoke were detectives by the look of it. “Who the hell are you, and what are you doing in my workshop?”

The taller of the two detectives explained that they were National Crime Agency officers, and he was under arrest for being in possession of offensive images of children. They were investigating a huge child exploitation case, and they had evidence he was involved. In addition, the suit told Richard that every computer in the workshop, office at the factory, and his home would be checked for images of child pornography.

He was being set up. Richard knew that Vanu wasn’t in any car accident; he was run off the road, murdered for his involvement in the project. Suspecting foul play had befallen Paula and Nathan as well, he turned and allowed the suits to cuff him while they read him his rights, just like in the TV programmes and movies he watched.

From her text, it sounded like Yurika had made a deal. Bitch!

Oh bugger! He hadn’t told Charlotte what the key was for, or what locker it opened. He figured he would use his one phone call to tell her. It was risky, though. He didn’t want to get her in trouble, because whoever wanted him out of the way was dangerous. They’d already murdered his brother, Henry, Vanu, and possibly Paula and Nathan, too. If he went to prison, there would be no one left to carry on his work.

45

Hayes pulled up outside the Fisher Valves factory office. “I preferred the Accord office.” It wasn’t the most pleasant of buildings to look at, although the receptionist she saw through the glass seemed attractive and smiley.

“Let’s hope he’s in.” Miller unclipped her belt and opened her door. “I know he was lying. He knows more than he’s letting on.”

She had to agree. There was something off about Richard Fisher, something, dare she say, fishy about him. “I’m with you on that.” After opening her door, Hayes climbed out and leaned against the car. “I know he was drunk, but his lie was so blatant.”

Meeting Miller on their way to reception, she held the handle of the glass door, and let her partner through first. They were greeted by a set of perfectly straight white teeth in the form of a huge smile.

“Welcome to Fisher Valves. How may I help you this morning?” The youngster, no more than twenty studied Miller, then her.

Holding up her ID wallet, Hayes smiled back. “Hi! We’d like a word with Richard Fisher, please. And before you ask, we don’t have an appointment.”

“He’s not here, I’m afraid.” She picked up a scrap of paper from her desk and scribbled on it. “This is the address of a workshop we own in Croydon. He spends most of his time there these days. I don’t know, maybe I should be there, not here. Shall I let him know you’re coming?”

On a TV at the back of reception, Sky News’ crime correspondent stood in front of a car park full of police cars, the lights still flashing. Miller noticed it first. “What the hell?” Underneath the picture, words scrolled horizontally, ‘Fisher Valves Boss Arrested in Child Pornography Ring’.

Hayes heard the receptionist pick up her desk phone. “Is that Richard being taken to a car?” In the distance she saw a man who resembled Fisher being escorted by uniforms. “Oh shit! It’s an NCA bust.”

“So? What does that mean?” Miller awaited her answer.

“It means they won’t give us the time of day. If it falls under National Crime Agency jurisdiction, we can all go swing as far as they’re concerned. They won’t let us speak to Fisher now.”

The young receptionist put the phone down and came out from behind her desk, walked up to the TV and stared at it. “This is bullshit! Richard didn’t do this. He’s not a paedophile.” She burst into tears and ran into the ladies’ restroom next to her desk.

Turning to face her partner, Hayes sighed. “I’ll go and talk to her.”

“Don’t take too long. We need