The Innocent and the Dead Page 13

  Knox shook his head. ‘Diversionary tactic,’ he said. ‘Throwing the Tulliallan team off the scent.’ He turned to Hathaway. ‘Tell them to stand down, Mark. Let them know we’ll pick him up at this end.’

  Hathaway relayed the message, then joined Knox and Mason at the DI’s desk. Knox had a railway timetable open and was pointing to a list of departures. ‘Here we are,’ Knox was saying, ‘a train left North Berwick at 12.25pm. Arrives at Edinburgh Waverley at 12.59. A pound to a penny Tavener’s on it.’

  ‘But DS Fulton’s already at St Andrew Square, boss,’ Hathaway said. ‘Surely Tavener will guess we have the bank covered?’

  Knox nodded. ‘He might,’ he said. ‘But then again he might not. His diversion of the stake-out team is evidence of that.’

  Mason said, ‘So, the next step is intercept and surveillance?’

  Knox nodded, then looked at his watch. ‘We’ve just under half an hour.’

  ‘You and DS Fulton will be there, boss?’ Mason said. ‘There’s a chance of frightening him off if he spots you.’

  ‘Uppermost in my mind, Yvonne,’ Knox said. ‘No, Bill and I will stay in the background. I want you and Mark to meet the train.’ He paused for a moment, then added, ‘You know what he looks like?’

  Hathaway nodded. ‘Yes, boss,’ he said. ‘Yvonne and I watched a tape of his address to last year’s annual Distiller’s Conference.’

  ‘Okay,’ Knox said, then checked his watch again. ‘Better head up to Waverley. The train’s due to arrive at Platform 3 in twenty-five minutes.’ He took his mobile from his pocket, ‘I’ll ring Bill and update him.’

  Knox paused, then added, ‘Oh, by the way, take radios with sleeve mikes. Bill and I will remain in the vicinity of Forth Mercantile until he arrives at the bank. You two shadow him after he picks up the money and gets where he’s going. As he’s without transport, I think we’ll find that’s somewhere central.’

  Chapter Seven

  The Forth Mercantile Bank headquarters was an impressive late-Georgian building situated on the east side of St Andrew Square.

  Knox pulled into the short driveway and stopped behind Fulton’s Vauxhall Astra, which was parked within sight of the bank’s entrance.

  Fulton grinned as Knox got into the car. ‘So,’ he said, ‘the Tulliallan boys were taken on a wee sightseeing trip.’

  ‘Aye, a successful ploy,’ Knox said. ‘Looks like Tavener’s wife was in on it too.’

  Fulton reached over to the back seat and picked up a small leather case.

  Knox glanced towards it. ‘Our wee box of tricks?’ he said.

  ‘Yeah,’ Fulton replied, then levered the catches and opened the lid to reveal a recessed screen. ‘The tracker monitor,’ he said.

  Fulton clicked a switch on the base and the screen lit up. ‘It’s a bit like a sat nav,’ he said. ‘Shows you a map with the location of the tracker.’

  Knox saw a red dot blinking at a rectangle marked “First Mercantile Bank” on a screen giving a scaled representation of central Edinburgh.

  Fulton manipulated a small joystick-like lever. ‘See, you can zoom out. Covers an area of three miles from this unit’s location. It shows where the tracker’s located with pin-point accuracy.’

  Knox nodded. ‘I’ve a feeling Tavener’s appointment is somewhere in the central area,’ he said. ‘I’ve asked Mason and Hathaway to stick close to him until contact’s made. I’ll have them stand down then and we’ll follow the tracker to the final location.’

  ‘Hathaway said the call to Tavener came from a phone box in Portobello,’ Fulton said. ‘You think his daughter’s being held there?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Knox said. ‘Seafield, Portobello, Joppa. Somewhere in the area.’

  Fulton pointed to the screen and said, ‘With a little bit of luck, this should lead us to her.’

  * * *

  Hathaway and Mason stood at either end of a Burger King entrance located immediately opposite Platform 3 at Waverley Station. Both officers had two-way radio units at their waists to which two cords were attached: one through the arm of a sleeve fixed to the cuff; the other over the shoulder and the collar to an earpiece. To the casual observer the latter looked like the ear bud of an iPod.

  Both radios were set to the frequency of – and directly linked to – the control car, Fulton’s Astra.

  As the North Berwick train approached the station, Hathaway raised his right hand. ‘Comms check, Hathaway,’ he said.

  A moment later, Knox replied. ‘Loud and clear, Mark. Yvonne?’

  Mason raised her hand just as a station announcer called out the arrival of the 12.25 from North Berwick. ‘Comms check, Mason,’ she said.

  ‘You’ll have to say that again, Yvonne,’ Knox said. ‘We didn’t get you.’

  Mason raised her arm and repeated, ‘Comms check, Mason.’

  ‘Loud and clear that time, Yvonne,’ Knox said, then added, ‘okay, intercept the target. Keep me informed.’

  Mason turned to face the gate of Platform 3, where a stream of passengers had exited the train and were heading towards ticket collectors.

  Hathaway was the first to spot Tavener. He was dressed casually and wore dark sunglasses. ‘Target approaching exit,’ he said. ‘The man with the checked shirt and tan leather jacket.’

  ‘I see him,’ Mason said.

  Tavener offered his ticket to the collector who took it and waved him through, then he walked to the right of the concourse and made for the north exit.

  Hathaway followed between parallel rows of concessionary shops, then said into his mike, ‘He’s headed for Princes Street.’

  Mason shadowed her colleague, mingling with a crowd of passengers on Hathaway’s left. The officers watched as Tavener climbed the stairs to a ramp leading to the Waverley Steps.

  ‘Target proceeding to the escalators,’ Mason said.

  ‘Okay,’ Knox said. ‘Keep him in sight, but don’t crowd him.’

  A minute later, Tavener reached the top of the Waverley Steps and turned left into Princes Street. He passed the entrance to Princes Mall, then stopped at the South St Andrew Street pedestrian lights.

  ‘He’s crossing Princes Street just south of St Andrew Square, boss,’ Mason said. ‘He’ll be with you shortly.’

  ‘Understood, Yvonne,’ Knox. ‘Where are you, Mark?’

  ‘Crossing Princes Street at the old Forsyth building, boss,’ Hathaway said, ‘Target in sight. Confirm he’ll be with you in less than a minute.’

  ‘Received and understood,’ Knox said. ‘Keep him in sight until he gets to the bank’s gates. Position yourselves there until he leaves.’ A pause, then, ‘Acknowledge.’

  ‘Understood, boss,’ Hathaway said.

  ‘Understood,’ Mason said. ‘I’m twenty yards behind. He’s coming in the gate now.’

  Knox and Fulton glanced to their right and saw Tavener walk into the driveway and enter the bank.

  Knox glanced at his watch: 1.07pm. ‘I don’t think he’ll be long,’ he said. ‘Just a matter of picking up the holdall.’

  Fulton nodded. ‘With a hundred grand,’ he said. ‘Nice payday for the kidnappers.’

  ‘With a bit of luck, we’ll prevent that,’ Knox said. ‘The main thing is to get Samantha back safely.’

  Fulton gestured to the bank entrance. ‘Well, that didn’t take long, did it, boss? Look, he’s coming out.’

  Knox saw Tavener headed in their direction. Seconds before he drew level, Fulton took a copy of The Guardian from the door pocket and opened it, shielding them from Tavener’s gaze.

  ‘Close one,’ Knox said, then reached for the radio. ‘Target coming out,’ he said. ‘Acknowledge.’

  ‘We’re on him, boss,’ Mason said. ‘We’re crossing to the tram stop, westbound side.’

  Fulton turned to Knox. ‘He’s taking a tram?’

  Knox shook his head. ‘I could have sworn the rendezvous was in the city centre.’

  Knox pressed the transmit button. ‘He’s buying a ticke
t?’

  ‘Affirmative, boss,’ Hathaway said.

  ‘Then you’d both better get one too. Don’t lose him.’

  Fulton shook his head. ‘I just hope they’ve got change.’

  * * *

  The officers watched a tram turn into St Andrew Square and come to a halt. Tavener was at the front of the queue, Mason near the centre and Hathaway at the rear. Tavener boarded and took a seat in the first carriage near the driver. Mason and Hathaway sat opposite each other on bench seats close to the door.

  The tram moved off towards Princes Street, where it turned right and made for the next stop. After a brief halt at traffic lights outside the RSA Gallery, Tavener stood and made for the exit. He was immediately intercepted by a conductor, who said, ‘Can I see your ticket, sir?’

  Tavener handed it over and the conductor gave an acknowledging nod. ‘Thank you, sir,’ he said.

  As the tram trundled to a halt, Hathaway and Mason gave the conductor their tickets, then alighted and crossed to the pavement. Tavener was a short distance ahead, weaving his way through a phalanx of pedestrians.

  ‘Target heading towards the National Gallery,’ Hathaway said.

  At that moment, Tavener turned right into the Mound and entered Princes Street Gardens. He walked halfway down a flight of steps, then moved to his right and stood at a garden displaying Edinburgh’s Floral Clock. He glanced at the clock then and checked his watch.

  Knox’s voice sounded in the officer’s earpieces. ‘What’s happening?’ he said. ‘Reply if you can.’

  Hathaway and Mason stopped at the top of the steps and feigned interest in Edinburgh Castle. Mason took out her iPhone and pretended to take a snap.

  Hathaway raised his arm. ‘Target’s stopped halfway down the steps at the floral clock, boss,’ he said. ‘I think he’s verifying the time.’

  Knox said, ‘He must have a rendezvous arranged in the Gardens.’ A pause, then, ‘It’s twenty-seven minutes past one now. My guess is one-thirty.’

  ‘He’s on the move again, boss,’ Mason said. ‘Wait … he’s going into one of the covered shelters.’

  The officers saw Tavener consult his watch again, then saw him sit on an empty bench near the shelter entrance and place the holdall at his side.

  Hathaway and Mason stopped opposite, facing the castle. Mason raised the iPhone again; ostensibly taking pictures.

  Hathaway glanced at his watch. ‘It’s half one now,’ he said.

  A constant stream of people strolled by in either direction, all enjoying the early summer sunshine in the pleasant environs of Edinburgh Castle.

  Mason watched tourists and shop and office workers on their lunch break intermingle on the pathway, no one looking out of the ordinary, then her attention was drawn to a man in his late twenties clad in a denim jacket and jeans. He was carrying a large bunch of flowers, wore sunglasses, and a pair of headphones were clamped to his ears. Mason nudged Hathaway as the man approached the shelter. ‘Guy in the denim jacket,’ she said.

  ‘I clocked him,’ Hathaway said. ‘Probably meeting his girlfriend.’

  Mason glanced at the shelter’s other occupants. Three people sat on the two other benches: a middle-aged couple on the one farthest from Tavener, and an elderly woman on the bench in the centre, who was throwing seeds to a scattering of pigeons.

  ‘Well, she’s not here yet,’ Mason said. ‘Unless he’s got a thing for older women.’

  They saw the man enter and glance around the shelter, then shake his head and leave, walking in the direction of the Floral Clock.

  ‘Someone’s given him a dizzy,’ Hathaway said.

  Mason nodded. ‘Happens to us all.’

  The officers’ attention was drawn back to Tavener, whose mobile rang suddenly. They took turns observing as he took the phone from his pocket and spoke to the caller. A moment later his face flushed and he became animated; gesticulating with his free hand.

  Mason gestured in his direction. ‘Something’s gone wrong,’ she said.

  Chapter Eight

  Tavener checked his watch when he left the tram: 1.26pm. He turned into the Mound and entered Princes Street Gardens, walked halfway down the Floral Clock steps, then checked it again: 1.27pm. Good, he thought. I’ve timed it well.

  If he remained in the shelter a minute or two, he’d be unlikely to attract attention. Except the kidnapper’s, of course, and he was certain to be on time.

  Tavener approached, looked inside, and saw the nearest bench was empty. He took a seat and placed the holdall at his side and checked his watch a third time: 1.29pm. He turned and glanced at the two other benches. An American couple sat farthest away. At least he guessed them to be Americans, judging by their accents. An elderly woman occupied the bench nearest, feeding seeds to a half dozen fluttering pigeons from a paper bag on her lap.

  A young man entered at that moment. He wore earphones on his head and was carrying a bouquet of flowers. Tavener’s heart skipped a beat as he realised he was looking at Samantha’s kidnapper.

  Then the man suddenly did an unexpected thing: he raised a hand to the earphones, repositioned them, then shook his head and exited the shelter.

  Tavener couldn’t understand. He’d complied with the man’s instructions, the holdall clearly visible at his side. All he had to do was take the money and leave. Instead, Tavener had witnessed a flash of anger in his face as he walked away.

  His mobile rang at that moment, and as he glanced at it, his hopes soared – the screen showed the caller was his daughter.

  ‘Hello, Samantha,’ he said. ‘Is that you?’

  ‘No, Tavener, it’s not. Nor is it likely to be,’ the kidnapper replied. ‘I brought her phone because your number’s in its contacts list.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Tavener said. ‘You came into the shelter and left without the money.’

  ‘You must take me for some sort of idiot,’ the man said. ‘The bag’s bugged. You broke our agreement. You’re working with the police.’

  Tavener shook his head. ‘Bugged?’ he said. ‘No, it can’t be. I kept my word. I arranged to pick up the money from the bank myself. At no stage were the police involved.’

  ‘Then how come the bag has a tracking device?’

  ‘A tracking device? Surely you’re mistaken?’

  ‘The flowers, Tavener,’ the man said. ‘I didn’t bring them as a prop. There was a scanner in the bouquet, a cord inside connected to the headphones you saw me wearing. It picked up a signal from the holdall.’

  ‘A signal?’

  ‘Yes, a signal. Did you really expect me to take you at your word? Make no provision for the possibility you’d try a double-cross?’

  Tavener became agitated. ‘I told you I’ve nothing to do with any device. Someone’s put it there without my knowledge.’

  The man said, ‘Oh really, and who could that be?’ A sarcastic tone of voice. ‘Only one plausible answer. The police.’

  ‘I swear I know nothing about it,’ Tavener said. ‘Look, I’m going to contact my bank and demand they tell me where this tracker’s located. I’ll book a room at a hotel and remove it. I’ll meet you again here in town, tonight, tomorrow. Wherever or whenever you wish. Please, give me another chance. I promise you’ll get your money.’

  There was a long silence at the other end, then the man said, ‘You welched on our deal, Tavener. You involved the police.’

  Tavener adopted a beseeching tone. ‘I didn’t, you must believe me.’

  ‘I’ll think about it,’ the man said. ‘You’ll have your answer soon. One way or another.’

  * * *

  Hathaway and Mason turned to face the Castle as Tavener left the shelter, again walking towards the Floral Clock steps.

  The officers followed, catching up with him at the Mound pedestrian crossing.

  As they waited for the lights to change, Knox’s voice came over the radio: ‘Hathaway, Mason,’ he said. ‘Report please.’

  ‘Target has exited Princes Street Garden
s,’ Hathaway said. ‘He still has the holdall.’

  ‘Nobody turned up?’ Knox said.

  ‘Affirmative, boss,’ Hathaway said.

  ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘Opposite the RSA Gallery.’

  As Hathaway spoke, a “green man” signal came on and Tavener continued along Princes Street. The officers followed and saw him cross the Waverley Bridge junction and pass the Princes Mall in the direction of Waverley Station.

  ‘I think he’s heading home, boss,’ Hathaway said.

  Mason cut in. ‘No, wait,’ she said. ‘He’s gone on.’ A few moments passed, then she added, ‘He’s entering the Balmoral Hotel.’

  ‘The Balmoral?’ Knox said.

  ‘Yes, boss,’ Mason added. ‘He’s gone inside now.’

  There was silence for a moment, then Knox said, ‘Something’s gone wrong with the pickup. Did either of you see unusual activity?’

  ‘There was something, yes,’ Mason said. ‘A guy in his late twenties went into the shelter carrying a bunch of flowers. Came out again seconds later and left the Gardens.’

  ‘Did he have contact with Tavener?’

  ‘No, boss,’ Hathaway said. ‘Yvonne and I assumed he was meeting a woman, that he’d been stood up.’

  ‘Any possibility this guy saw you watching Tavener?’

  Mason said, ‘No, boss, I don’t think so.’ She continued, ‘A minute or so passed, then Tavener received a phone call. I thought I heard him say “Hello, Samantha” when he answered. Afterward, he appeared upset.’

  Again, a lengthy silence, then Knox said, ‘I don’t know how, but I think our guy sussed the tracker. He could also be using Samantha’s mobile. That would explain the way Tavener answered the call and how he reacted afterward.’ A pause, then, ‘It would also explain why Tavener’s staying in town. He’s hoping to arrange another meet.’

  ‘What about the tracker, boss?’ Hathaway said.

  ‘I guess Tavener will contact his bank,’ Knox said. ‘Likely he’ll get them to reveal where the tracker is. All he has to do is remove it and set up another rendezvous.’

  ‘So, we keep a watch on the hotel?’ Mason said.