Peter James - Dead Man's Grip

Branson gave him a helpless look. ‘We guarded her house with the boy and her mother – the boys’ gran – in it all night. And we had a friend of Carly Chase, who was doing the school run, tailed – to make sure he got there safely. We were going to do the same this afternoon when he came out of school. No one said anything about him having an appointment.’

Grace shook his head. ‘She was vulnerable. That meant anyone close to her was vulnerable, too. We should have had someone at the school today.’

‘Hindsight’s easy. Most people wouldn’t get out of bed in the morning if they knew what was going to happen.’

Grace stared at him bleakly. ‘Knowing what was going to happen would make this job a damned sight easier.’ He picked up a pen and began making notes on his pad, his brain going into overdrive. ‘OK, do we have a photograph of this boy?’

‘No. I have a description of him. He’s five foot tall, looks a little like a young Harry Potter – floppy brown hair, oval wire-framed glasses, wearing a school uniform of red blazer, white shirt, red and grey tie, and grey trousers.’

‘Good, that’s fairly distinctive,’ Grace said. ‘We need a photo PDQ.’

‘We’re on to that.’

‘Has anyone spoken to the gran?’

‘She’s at a doctor’s appointment at the Sussex County. I have someone on their way there.’

‘Do we have the make of the taxi? Was it a saloon or an estate car or a people carrier?’

‘I don’t have that yet.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I haven’t had time. I wanted you to know right away.’

Grace looked up at a map of East and West Sussex on his wall, then at his bookshelf, where he could see a copy of the official Kidnap Manual , which contained all the procedures and protocols for kidnap and abduction. He knew a lot of them by heart, but he would check carefully through it. Before that he had some urgent fast-time actions to carry out. He grabbed the phone off his desk and, as he dialled, he said, ‘Glenn, we need to plot an arc around the school – how far away someone could be in any direction now and in thirty minutes’ time. We’ve got to get the make of vehicle. Is someone going to see the teacher?’

‘Two officers from the Outside Inquiry Team should be at the school now.’

‘We need more officers down at that school immediately, talking to everyone around it, in houses, walking their dogs, cats, goldfish.’

Grace dialled the number for Ops-1 – the Duty Inspector in the Force Control Room, Becky Newman. He gave her a quick summary and asked her who the Force Gold was today. The Gold Commander was normally a Superintendent or Chief Superintendent who would take control of any Critical Incident that happened on his watch.

He was pleased to hear it was Chief Superintendent Graham Barrington, the current Commander of Brighton and Hove, an exceptionally able and intelligent officer. Moments later he was on the line. Grace quickly brought him up to speed. Barrington said he wanted a Detective as Silver and suggested Chief Inspector Trevor Barnes. He quickly reeled off the Bronzes to complete his command team: one a POLSA for searches, then one for Intelligence, one for Investigations and one for Media. In all child abductions or kidnaps, the way the media was handled was crucial.

‘I think because of the gravity we should have an ACC handle the media. ACC Rigg is on call today.’

Grace smirked. He liked the idea of the very slightly arrogant Peter Rigg being given a role down the pecking order, beneath the Chief Superintendent.

‘I think we should make your deputy SIO the Investigations Bronze, as he’ll be up to speed. Who is that?”

‘Glenn Branson.’

‘He’s a DS?’

‘Yes, but he’s good,’ Grace said, turning to his colleague and winking.

‘OK.’

‘I think our very first priority, Graham, is road checks.’

‘Yes, we’ll get them on all major routes. What do you think? Forty-five minutes’ or one hour’s drive away?’

Grace looked at his watch, doing a calculation. It would take time to get cars in place.

‘An hour’s drive, to be safe. Can we scramble Hotel 900.’

Hotel 900 was the call sign for the police helicopter.

‘Right away. Get me a description of the taxi as quickly as possible to give to them. What about utilizing Child Rescue Alert ?’

‘Yes, definitely. I’m about to do that,’ Grace said, although he was aware of the deluge of calls his team would receive from this, most of which would be false alarms.

Child Rescue Alert was a recent police initiative, modelled on the US’s Amber Alert , for getting descriptions of missing or abducted children circulated fast, nationwide. It included mobile messaging, social-networking sites, news bulletins and posting descriptions on motorway signs. Its use always generated thousands of responses, each of which would have to be checked out. But it was a valuable resource and ideal for this current situation.

‘We need an all-ports alert out, too,’ Grace said. ‘No one’s leaving this country with a young boy until we’ve cleared them. We need to throw everything we have at this. We need to find this bastard and we’re going to have to find him fast, before he has a chance to hurt the kid.’

Grace hung up, leaving the Chief Superintendent to get started, and turned back to Branson.

‘OK, you’re Investigations Bronze. Chief Superintendent Barrington will brief you shortly, but there are three urgent things you need to do.’

‘Yes?’

‘The first is to get the boy’s computer – I assume he must have one – down to the High-Tech Crime Unit for analysis. Find out who he’s been talking to and engaging with on Facebook, chat lines, email.’

Branson nodded. ‘I’ll access that via his gran.’

‘The second is to get every inch of his house and garden searched, and his immediate neighbours’, and the homes of all his friends. You may be able to draft in some locals as volunteers to help search his entire home area.’

‘Yep.’

‘The third is to keep checking with the dentist and the school. I don’t want egg all over my face if this kid turns up safe and sound because his mum forgot to tell you something.’

‘Understood, but that’s not going to happen. Not from what she’s told me.’

‘It had better not.’ Then Grace shrugged. ‘Although I wish it would, if you know what I mean.’

Branson nodded, getting up to leave. He knew exactly what Roy meant.

As the door closed, Grace grabbed the Kidnap Manual off the shelf and laid it on his desk, but before he opened it he scribbled down several more actions on his pad as they came into his head, then sat in silence for some moments, thinking. His phone rang. It was his MSA, Eleanor Hodgson, asking if he had the amended draft of his press statement ready for retyping.

In the panic of the last few minutes he’d forgotten all about it, he realized. He told her he was going to have to rewrite it totally because of the latest development and that the press conference might need to be delayed by half an hour.

He felt very afraid for this young boy. This man who had killed Preece and Ferguson was a cruel sadist. There was no telling what he had in mind for Tyler Chase, and all Grace’s focus now was on how to get the boy safely out of his clutches. Thirty minutes had elapsed so far. They could be in a lot of different places in thirty minutes. But a taxi was distinctive. A man and a young boy were distinctive – particularly if Tyler was still in his school uniform.

He felt a deep, dark dread inside him. This was not his fault, but he still had overall responsibility for providing the protection Carly and her family needed, and he was angry with himself for letting this happen.