Dead Simple

stepped out on to the teak decking that covered the balcony. Steadying himself on the metal guard rail, he looked down four floors at the bustling street below. It wasn’t far, but it was enough for him; he had always suffered from vertigo, never had any head for heights.
    ‘How did this boy get Ashley’s phone number and the directions to our land?’ Mark asked.
    ‘I’d also like to know that very much.’
    Once again Mark’s eyes shot across the room. Grace wondered, was it the cupboard? Something in there? What?
    Grace had such bad feelings about this man, and about Ashley Harper, that he wanted to get search warrants and take their homes – and office – apart. But to do that was not easy. Magistrates required convincing to sign warrants, and to convince them you needed evidence. The bracelet she had given him wouldn’t be enough. Right now, on both Mark Warren and Ashley Harper all he really had were gut feelings. No evidence.
    ‘Mark, is this land of yours easy to find? The directions – the white cottage, the cattle grid?’
    ‘You have to know the turn-off – it’s not marked, other than by a couple of stakes – we didn’t want to draw attention to it.’
    ‘Sounds to me that that’s the place to look for your partner, pretty damned quick, wouldn’t you say?’
    ‘Absolutely.’
    ‘I’ll liaise with the Crowborough police, who are already doing a full search of the area, but it sounds like it would be vital for you to be there – at least point them to the right area. If I arrange to get you picked up in the next half-hour?’
    ‘Fine. Thank you. Ah – how long do you think I’ll be needed?’
    Grace frowned. ‘Well – all I need is for you to show us the entrance – the turn-off – and to take us to where your land begins. Maybe an hour altogether. Unless you want to join in the search yourself?’
    ‘Sure – I mean – I’ll do what I can.’

71
    Mark closed the door on Grace, ran into the bathroom, knelt down and threw up into the toilet bowl. Then he threw up some more.
    He stood up, pressed the flush lever, then rinsed his mouth with cold water; his clothes were wringing wet with perspiration, his hair plastered to his head. With the tap running, he nearly didn’t hear the landline phone ringing.
    Grabbing the receiver off the hook, he just caught it on the last ring before it would have diverted to voicemail. ‘Hello?’
    A male voice with an Australian accent said, ‘Is that Mark Warren?’
    Something about the voice made Mark instantly wary. ‘This is an ex-directory number. Who am I speaking to?’
    ‘My name’s Vic – I’m with your friend, Michael – he gave me your number. Actually he’d like to have a quick word with you; shall I put him on?’
    ‘Yes.’ Mark gripped the receiver hard against his ear, trembling. Then he heard Michael’s voice, very definitely Michael, but making a sound unlike Mark had ever heard before. It was a bellow of pain that seemed to start deep within Michael’s soul then burst, like a train from a tunnel, into a crescendo of utter, unbearable agony.
    Mark had to pull the phone away from his ear. The roar died away then he heard Michael whimpering then screaming again. ‘No, please, no, no. NO NO NO NO!’
    Then he heard Vic’s voice again. ‘Bet you’re wondering what I’m doing to your mate, don’t you, eh Mark? Don’t worry, you’ll find out when it arrives in tomorrow’s post.’
    ‘What do you want?’ Mark asked, straining his ears, but he could hear no sound from Michael now.
    ‘I need you to transfer some money in your Cayman Islands bank to an account number I’m going to give you shortly.’
    ‘It isn’t possible – even if I was willing to do it. Two signatures are needed for any transaction, Michael’s and mine.’
    ‘In your safe in your company office you have documents signed by both of you, giving power of attorney to a lawyer in the Cayman Islands; you put it there last year when you both went off sailing for a week, and you were hoping to close on a property deal in the Grenadines that then didn’t happen. You’ve forgotten to destroy those documents. Just as well, I’d say.’
    How the hell did the man know this, Mark wondered.
    ‘I want to speak to Michael – I don’t want to hear him in pain, I’d just like to talk to him, please.’
    ‘You’ve talked to him enough today. I’m going to leave you to think about this, Mark, and we’ll catch up later, have a cosy chat. Oh, and