Three (Detective Alec Ramsay Series Book 7) Read online

  THR3E

  CONRAD JONES

  CHAPTER 1

  It was without doubt the biggest bonfire that Toni had ever seen but her excitement turned to fear when the flames reached the Guy Fawkes, engulfed its legs and the dummy began to scream. She remembered being transfixed as the flames devoured the thrashing effigy, silencing the mesmerised crowd. Its arms flailed wildly, the rubber mask blackened and blistered as the screams reached a stomach churning crescendo. Suddenly there was nothing but the sound of the fire, wood spitting and cracking and the roar of the flames. The inferno engulfed the figure until its shape was no longer distinguishable as human. Red hot embers floated skyward like a swarm of orange fireflies and tendrils of smoke crept amongst the crowd, searching for their eyes, making them sting and water. The sickly sweet smell of burning human flesh drifted with it. Long seconds ticked by and then the crowd reacted as one and all hell broke loose.

  Toni’s mother dragged her backwards, away from the bonfire but she couldn’t look away. She watched the organisers frantically trying to extinguish the flames but it was an impossible task. The fire had a grip and nothing could halt its progress. One man ran as close as he could and launched the contents of a fire bucket towards the raging conflagration but the heat was so intense that none of the sand reached the base of the fire. Although she was terrified, it confused her. The bonfire had been nearly five metres high. Tons of wood was ablaze, white hot at the base. How on earth did the man think he was going to extinguish the inferno with a bucket of sand? The man was shouting for help as he ran back with his empty bucket, desperate for someone to help but no one else neared the bonfire, the heat too intense. He repeatedly turned in a circle as if doing some manic rain-dance, his mouth open and pleading but nobody could help.

  Three uniformed police officers had dragged the man away to a safe distance as they summoned backup on their radios. Eventually the fleeing crowd had closed in and blocked her view and she had held on tightly to her mother’s hand as they made their way across the wet grass towards where she had parked the car. Mud squelched beneath her pink wellington boots. People were pushing and shoving to escape the scene giving no thought to the safety of others around them. She saw several people bowled over and trampled; the air turned blue with expletives as the worst side of human nature came to the fore. It was every man for themselves and screw everyone else. Panic begot panic and chaos reigned. Children were crying, confused and frightened. Mothers shrieked as their infants were separated from them and fathers turned on each other aggressively trying to protect their offspring. The wet grass was like an ice-rink and obstacles lurked invisible in the darkness. Some around her fell and staggered to their feet quickly while others stumbled and failed to rise, swallowed by the tide of frightened spectators.

  Toni was mesmerised as the crowd flowed away from the horror. As they ran, it dissipated and the sounds became clearer and less confused. She overheard one parent telling his children that it had been a joke and the firework display had been cancelled because of the rain. Another explained that it was probably a tramp who, had crawled in to the unlit bonfire to sleep. Toni didn’t believe either. Voices were raised and angry, cursing and swearing as the frightened crowd ran to their vehicles. She lost her footing a few times but her mother held her firm, pulling her up to her feet. The crowd thinned as they reached the perimeter of the park and a cold wind cut through her clothes. As they had approached the Ford, the heavens opened and they were drenched before they eventually climbed in. Toni could still remember how the sirens had screamed towards them, their blue flashing lights blurred by the deluge on the windscreen. She had felt cold and wet and more than a little frightened by the incident. Her mother fastened her into her seat and she had talked to her all the way home, her voice comforting but she fielded any questions about what they had witnessed. The heater had soon warmed the vehicle and her eyes became heavy.

  When they arrived home, her mother made her a hot milky drink and tucked her in bed. She read Rapunzel to her twice in an attempt to take her mind off what they had seen but her sleep had been troubled by nightmares. She had dreamed that a burning figure reached out to her, begging for her to help, calling her name over and over but she couldn’t move her limbs to help. The figure’s skin blistered and peeled and then melted like candle wax dripping from the skull in rivulets of wax and blood. Her visions were terrifying and she woke with a cry several times covered in cold sweat. Her mother had soothed her with a damp flannel and held her hand until sleep eventually embraced her but she found no peace there. She had tossed and turned in a fitful slumber that was filled with ghouls and burning figures that thrashed and danced through her tortured dreams.

  It was two days later that they found out that the man, who had burned alive, was her father. Her life disintegrated around her as her mother went through a breakdown and her aunt was drafted in to help out domestically. Her aunt was the only person who called her Antonia, which she hated. A month to the day that her father died, her mother left home for work and never came back. Toni had felt abandoned. She couldn’t describe the hopelessness that she felt inside. One moment her parents were there and the next, they were gone. She truly understood the meaning of being alone and those feelings of desolation and emptiness had been her constant companions ever since.

  Chapter 2

  Twenty years later

  Antonia Barrat had a bad feeling about the night ahead. Her source had told her to be at the derelict tobacco mill on Jamaica Street at least an hour before midnight. Once part of Victorian Liverpool’s thriving port, the area had become a rat-run for crack houses and prostitution. She shivered as she looked up at the tall building silhouetted against the yellowish light pollution from the city beyond. An L shaped pulley jib protruded from the top storey, five floors above. It was once used to lower bales of tobacco onto horse drawn carts but in the darkness of the night it looked like a hangman’s gallows. All the doors and windows at the front had been shuttered with perforated sheets of steel but her informer had identified an entrance, which could be opened with a strong tug. Finding the door had been a mission in itself. Tall weeds and brambles covered the rubble strewn ground making progress slow, painful and noisy. Thistles pierced her jeans and scratched her legs and nettles prickled her hands. They dared not use torches on approach and she had scratched her shin and twisted her ankle before they had reached the entrance. The metal hoarding screeched loudly as they pulled it open enough for them to climb through. The noise seemed to echo from the ancient walls for minutes rather than seconds. They had hoped for a silent entry but it was far from that. Her heart was thumping against her ribs and she felt lightheaded and weak at the knees at the thought of entering the decaying structure.

  As she climbed into the towering warehouse, her resolve became significantly weaker than it had been during the planning stage. Inside, the building was a maze of cluttered corridors and rotten staircases. Tendrils of rope dangled from the floors above like the tentacles of some giant hidden sea-monster. Thick curtains of spiders’ webs hung across the doorframes and passageways, daring any intruders to delve deeper into the building. The ground floor had a thousand hiding places and they scurried about looking for the perfect one. They walked through the main chamber and approached a wide arched doorway. A huge granite keystone supported the arch. Through the arch was a set of stone steps, which led down to the cellar space. Toni shone the torch around as she descended slowly. She had taken only a few of the steps down before she caught the reflection of the light shimmering on the mossy walls. The steps disappeared into deep dark water. The cellar area appeared to be completely flooded. Their torches illumin
ated a cavernous water filled void with a vaulted ceiling, which seemed to reach on forever. Milky coloured stalactites were growing from the joints between the huge stone blocks that formed the ceiling. The water appeared as black as oil and in her mind’s eye, bottomless. The lights sent rats the size of cats scurrying along ledges for safety. Thick dust covered the steps at their edges, undisturbed for decades but the centre steps were marked with multiple sets of boot prints. Someone had been down the steps recently. She ducked to get a better view but she couldn’t see where the cellar ended and there was no sign of human life down there. They looked at each other, silently discounted the cellar and climbed back into the warehouse.

  As they searched, it became clear that the stairs to the upper floors were not usable. The steps were cracked and broken and too many were missing completely. There were gaping holes too wide to bridge. Toni was sure that there was no access to the upper floors and there were no exits or windows at the rear of the building. In short, it was a death trap.

  “I don’t like this, Mike,” Toni whispered. They hadn’t known each other for long but she was thankful that he had agreed to come along.

  “Good, I’m glad it’s not just me,” her companion muttered. His London accent grated on her. “I was beginning to think I was losing my nerve.” He smiled weakly. “We knew this would be dangerous, Toni.”

  “I think we’ve bitten off more than we can chew,” she whispered. Her bottom lip trembled as she spoke. “I prefer to be much further away and let the camera do the work. If this goes wrong, we’ve got no exit.”

  “Why do you think they picked this place for a meeting?” Mike ran a gloved hand through his short dark hair. Age had streaked it grey above the ears. He had told her that he was forty but she thought that he was ten years older, at least. “I think they’ve used this place before.” He waved his torch at a collapsed staircase to their right. “There’s one way in and one way out.” He pointed to where they had entered. “If their men don’t walk out of that door alive, they’ll grab anyone that leaves before they even get onto the pavement.” He paused. “And then God knows what they would do.”

  “That’s reassuring,” Toni whispered sarcastically. “We could leave now and hope we hear about a meeting somewhere else,” she said with uncertainty. Her voice trembled with fear. She had been torn between taking what she knew to the police and investigating further herself. Now she wished that she had chosen the first option.

  “It’s too late. We could be seen leaving. If they think we’re nosing around their business, we would end up in a deep hole in the forest.” Mike warned. “It’s definitely too late for that,” he grinned coldly in the darkness. The torchlight cast deep shadows beneath his eyes. “They don’t know we’re here so we have an advantage. We’ve checked around the building and we know we’re the first here. We can duck behind there, sit tight and sweat it out,” he added, pointing to a rotten staircase. “You’ve been waiting for this break for weeks, years even.”

  “I really need a wee,” she grimaced. She didn’t know him very well, in fact she didn’t know his second name but he was right. She had come too far to stop now. They both had their own reasons for being there. She crossed her Hunter wellington boots and squeezed her thighs together. The material of her black denim jeans rustled in the silence. The urge to pee waned slightly.

  “Shush!” The sound of metal grating against metal sliced through the darkness. They turned off their torches and froze to the spot. Toni could feel her blood pumping through her ears, her senses ultra aware. The inky blackness seemed to press in, suffocating her. She held her breath and listened intently. The old building creaked and groaned with every gust of wind that buffeted it. Each sound threatened danger approaching from all directions. The blackness that surrounded her seemed to have darker patches within. Deeper shadows neared and then drifted away as her eyes adjusted and her mind played tricks.

  Drip, drip, drip, she heard from the flooded cellar behind them, a dull thud from the floor above and the creaking of rope swinging in the breeze came from behind them. Every sound seemed deafening in the darkness. She pulled the hood of her black parka over her long dark hair to hide her face. A heavy door slammed closed and footsteps echoed off the crumbling brick walls. They looked at each other and crouched behind the broken steps of a rotten staircase, which gifted them a hiding place and a clear view of parts of the warehouse, broken in places by the huge cast iron columns that supported the upper floors. Toni squeezed her eyes closed and held her breath. She was so frightened that she thought she might wet herself.

  CHAPTER 3

  The past

  Toni was eight years old when her father was murdered; a mere child. She could remember the debilitating pain of his loss as if it was yesterday. There were times when she cried so hard that she couldn’t breathe, when salty tears mingled with saliva and dribbled from her chin. She could remember her eyes stinging and the dreadful fear that the grief would never subside, that the ache would never leave. The hollow sense of loss was crippling and there didn’t seem to be an end to it. It was a black cloud surrounding her, all encompassing, crushing her spirit and sucking the energy from her. She could barely function.

  Her father had treated her like a princess. ‘Daddy’s princess,’ he used to say into her ear whenever he picked her up and spun her around until she felt dizzy. His bristles would prickle her face and tickle her neck and she would laugh until she thought she would wee. She idolised him. He was her hero and when her mother had sat down and explained that he wasn’t coming home again, she cried so much that she couldn’t catch her breath. The pain was suffocating.

  He used to go away for weeks at a time but she always knew that he would come back with an armful of presents and a huge smile on his face. She had gone with him a few times, mostly on his shorter runs, sitting high up in the lorry cab with her feet up on the dashboard eating all the things that her mother said were bad for her. Once, he took her abroad on a long run. She could remember seeing fields and forests covered in deep snow, like the pictures on Christmas cards, as if it was yesterday. They ate with her father’s workmates and one of them gave her a cuddly stuffed reindeer called Rudolph. She kept Rudolph all through her life; he still had a place on the chair in her bedroom. Her father worked hard and she missed him terribly when he was away. The days that he had to leave for work were horrible and she pined for him from the moment that he left, until the second he walked back through the door. This time he wasn’t coming back and she felt like her heart would explode into a million pieces. Of course her mother didn’t tell her that they had witnessed his death, that would be too cruel for a child to take but over the following weeks, she heard snippets of whispered conversations. Little by little the picture formed. The adults tried to hide it from her but the more she listened the more she learned.

  ‘A terrible accident?’

  ‘Could he have been drunk and staggered into the park by mistake?’

  ‘Can you think of anyone who may have had a grudge against your husband, Mrs Barrat?’

  ‘Did he owe anybody any money?’

  ‘How long had he been driving onto the continent?’

  ‘How many times had he driven abroad?’

  ‘How much is the mortgage payment on your house?’

  ‘Do you own your cars or are they on HP?’

  ‘Your television and furniture look to be very expensive, Mrs Barrat...’

  ‘We think your husband was murdered, Mrs Barrat...’

  Toni hadn’t understood at first. Why would the detectives ask such horrible questions and say such evil things? Everyone that knew her father loved him. He was a nice man, a good man, a good father and a good husband. The questions went on for weeks and their small family rallied around to support them, for a while anyway. When the police began questioning the wider family, most of them drifted away. Toni began to see suspicion in their eyes and hear doubt in their voices. The police came and went as if they lived there, stro
king her hair and patting her on the head like she was a needy pet. At the time, she thought that her mother wanted them there to protect them, to make them feel safe but looking back, she wasn’t so sure.

  Friends and family called day and night to ask her mother about her father’s death; each visit was like scratching the scab from a wound and prompted a new wave of tears and sobbing. Each time she recounted the story it brought a new flood, more wailing, more anguish, more whispering and a little more information. Toni listened to both their facts and their speculation and she learned a little more every day. Her mother tried her best to be strong around her but she was shattered by the loss. She was a rock through the daylight hours but at night when all the doors were closed and everyone had gone home, her agony bubbled to the surface and her desperate sobbing was excruciating to listen to. Hearing her mother’s anguish through the bedroom wall was almost as unbearable as losing her father. Toni remembered her eyes, usually so brown and happy, were red and swollen with a distant look in them. She lay awake night after night and listened to her sobbing in the dark hours feeling helpless, unable to take the pain away. She would creep into her mother’s bed and snuggle next to her, her cheek resting on a tear soaked pillow. The scent of her father’s aftershave still lingered on the cotton. Their suffering shared lessened the pain a little and they had each other, for a short while at least.

  CHAPTER 4

  The warehouse/ 00:05

  Toni held her breath as three figures appeared from her left. Her heart sank when she saw their masks. They scanned the dark corners of the warehouse with powerful torches. Her heart threatened to burst from her chest as the beams flickered towards their hiding place. It was impossible to see their faces but she could hear them muttering in a guttural language. She listened intently to catch a word that would help her identify their ethnicity. None of them were local. Her blood ran cold and her throat felt so dry that she could barely swallow. The information that she had been given was vague but related to local criminals. She was not expecting foreigners in balaclavas. This looked like big trouble with a huge capital ‘T’. Toni was confused, angry and frightened. Her source had sent her into something that she had not been expecting. This looked shady at least and downright dangerous at best and she wanted nothing to do with. She could hardly stand up and ask if she could leave; whatever was about to happen, would happen regardless. Mike nudged her with his elbow. It took all her effort to tear her eyes from the men and look down at what he was pointing to. He pushed a notebook into her hand and she strained to read the word on the small page. ‘Russian?’ She nodded in the darkness. Maybe. Her source had been way off the mark.