Vanished

Chapter 20

Penny had been cooking since 2 p.m. The ingredients for the avocado and pear starter sat in a shady corner of the kitchen top, as they would be the last thing she prepared.

The meats were in the oven. Penny had added a lamb shoulder to the menu, as well as the chicken and beef, because she had a sachet of Moroccan lamb mix and some peppers that she wanted to use up with the leftovers. Penny did this all the time: she planned a week’s worth of meals, rather than cooking from day to day. This meant that she didn’t waste a single item of food and, each month, she saved Jack and Maggie a fortune on their shopping bill. She’d also swapped the planned treacle sponge for bread-and-butter pudding because the loaf in the fridge would shortly be ‘on the turn’.

She sent Jack to the shops with Hannah, to buy two specific bottles of red wine, a decent brandy and some cheeses — whilst Maggie was given the task of setting the table. She was under strict instructions to use their best glasses, one for wine and one for iced water, and their white cotton napkins normally reserved for Christmas. Penny was firmly in control, with Maggie and Jack acting like the hired help.

Maggie slinked from the kitchen and raced out of the front door, desperate to catch Jack before he vanished down the street towards the shopping precinct. ‘You know what day it is, don’t you?’ They both knew that her question was pointless: Jack had no clue what she was talking about. ‘We said we’d do something really special this year because she helps us beyond words. And now look! We’ve both forgotten.’

‘Oh, shit!’ Jack had stopped in his tracks. ‘Mum’s birthday.’ His attitude changed in a flash as he became Mr Fixit. ‘Don’t worry. I’m on the way to the shops. I’ll sort it. You get back before she notices you’ve gone.’ As Jack hurried off down the street, Maggie was under no illusions that he would come back with something that screamed ‘last-minute gift’. But they’d both forgotten Penny’s birthday, so she’d have to bear her fair share of the weight of the embarrassment that would accompany whatever Jack chose.

By the time Jack got home, the kitchen looked and smelled magnificent. Maggie took Hannah up for a bath, then bed, whilst Penny unpacked the shopping. Jack kept one bag back without her noticing... then he slipped away whilst Penny chose which bottle of red wine she wanted to serve first and removed the cap to let it breathe.

By 7 p.m. Hannah was asleep and Maggie was in the lounge trying to find out what Jack had bought for his mum so she’d know how apologetic she’d need to sound. But he was giving nothing away. Their mini-argument was brought to an abrupt end by a firm knock on the front door that echoed down the hallway. Penny spun and looked at the kitchen clock — Josh was bang on time. She whipped the pinny from her waist and threw it into the washing machine.

As Penny stepped into the lounge, straightening her skirt, her enthusiasm for hosting a home-cooked meal made Jack smile with pride: all he’d told her was that a friend from work, who was originally from Alabama, missed his mamma’s cooking, and this was the result. Penny had taken on the role of surrogate ‘mamma’ and decided to cook up a feast. All to make him feel at home in a foreign country. And on her birthday which, right now, she must be presuming would pass by without a mention.

Josh had brought a bottle of the exact same red wine that was currently breathing in the centre of the table — and a treacle sponge! Penny took this as a sure sign that he was a lovely, well brought-up young man. And she loved his accent. ‘Thank you, ma’am, for cooking for me tonight. It smells amazing.’

Penny thanked Josh for coming, poured four glasses of wine, then instructed everyone to go into the lounge whilst she prepared the starter. Once in the lounge, Jack said they had around fifteen minutes to talk about the case.

‘Well,’ Josh began, ‘no one’s tried to get their drugs out of the cellar yet, which means they’re either happy to lose that amount of product or they know we’re watching. My gut tells me they don’t know we have surveillance on the property. There’s no sign that anybody’s getting twitchy; the private plane hasn’t moved in weeks.’

Jack was still finding it hard to gauge the size of this particular operation. But Josh, from past experience, had a better sense of scale.

‘They’re small. At the top, I mean. There are a lot of tentacles spreading across UK cities, which makes it feel like a huge gang, but only a handful of real decision makers. That keeps them safe, but it can also make them slow on the ground. The fire, for example: they should have swooped in and cleaned that place out before the ashes were cold. The fact they didn’t suggests they might not have the resources. They’re smart though: all we’re seeing are the low-lifes, sneaking around in balaclavas, mixing, cutting and bagging the drugs.’ Josh chose his next words carefully. ‘They’re hired drug workers, doubling as muscle who’ll get rid of witnesses thinking they’re... oh, what’s that thing you guys say? Oh yeah, thinking they’re the dog’s bollocks.’ Josh, fleetingly embarrassed by his own language, flicked his eyes to Maggie. ‘Pardon me, ma’am. They’re not the dog’s you-know-whats. They’re the expendable dumb asses... pardon me again.’

Maggie assured Josh that she wasn’t offended by bad language; although Penny would object if he did it at the dinner table. ‘Oh Maggie! The dinner table is for polite conversation; no drugs talk, no murder, no swearing.’

Josh went on to explain that, in the US, the drug gangs have an army of lookouts employed to do nothing but sit outside houses like Avril Jenkins’ and report on who comes and who goes. And if the lookout failed to spot a drug factory being infiltrated by the cops, he’d be shot. No questions asked. ‘This gang, apparently, doesn’t even know that we put their own security system on a loop, so they can’t see us moving around inside.’ Josh took a mouthful of wine, clearing half a glass in one gulp. ‘There are inconsistencies. Contradictions. Sometimes I think they really got their shit together, sometimes I can’t believe we haven’t caught them yet!’

Jack picked up the conversation as Maggie refilled everyone’s glasses, emptying the first bottle of wine. ‘I get that this might be small-fry to you, Josh. But getting this volume of lethal drugs off the streets is a big win for us.’

‘It’s all relative, Jack. I’m not playing this down. What I think you have here is a dealer who’s been around a long time. He knows how to play the game and, crucially, he knows when to fold. My guess is that he started as a runner and worked his way up, thinking he could do things better... and he is. He’ll have hundreds of properties like Avril’s place. From the outside, there’s nothing to see. But inside...’ Josh sucked in a long whistle, then smiled. ‘But, like I said, it’s all relative. I come from a country where neighbours get all “high noon” over a parking spot. If our gang had succeeded in getting rid of Avril Jenkins, and shipped their haul off her property, we’d be none the wiser. Some big-time shit hit some big-time fans for them that night because a fire started. The top man must be pissed off and those small-fry further down the chain will be shitting bricks round about now. We want to get those small-fry while they’re scared and offer them a way out.’

Penny’s voice sang out from the kitchen: ‘Rea-dy!’

In Amsterdam, Garritt had spent Saturday morning investigating the leads that Laura had texted across, and had narrowed Anik’s search down from the seven locations she had sent him to one: the cadets’ training college. ‘I did two years as an Army Cadet and the man who taught me...’ Garritt shook his head as though there were no words to describe his old mentor. ‘Sergeant Bosch... there’s nothing he doesn’t know.’

Twenty minutes later, Garritt was driving to the college. He asked Anik what the uniformed Dutch man had to do with a murdered Chinese girl and a stolen painting. Anik had to admit that he didn’t know. ‘This case has taken several twists and turns which we hope will all eventually lead to the same place. And the same person. The woman in the picture, next to the Dutch military officer, was murdered in the same place as Jessica Chi. And each time we ask a question, we get an answer we didn’t expect — like the fact that Jessica had a stolen Rossetti. I dread to think what your old mentor is going to tell me.’

The cadet training college was closed, and the only sign of life was the elderly man in an ill-fitting security uniform sitting in a security booth drinking coffee from a flask. Garritt parked just short of the booth and got out. As soon as the men saw each other, they beamed the biggest of smiles and exchanged a tight embrace.

‘Anik, this is Sergeant Bosch. He should have retired many years ago, but he refuses to leave.’ As Anik stepped closer, he could see that Bosch’s uniform was in fact, not security, but military, and he displayed a line of medals across his chest. ‘Sergeant Bosch, Anik is a policeman from England. I’m helping him to find murderers and drug dealers and a missing painting worth millions.’

‘You always did exaggerate, Garritt.’ Bosch shook hands with Anik and asked how he could help. Anik got out his mobile phone, showed Bosch the photograph of Avril Jenkins standing next to the young Dutch military man and asked if he could help to identify the uniform. Bosch patted all of his pockets, and even felt on top of his head. Garritt, knowing his old mentor inside out, popped his head inside the security booth. Sure enough, there was the daily paper with a half-done crossword, along with a pencil and a pair of glasses. Garritt handed the glasses to Bosch, who was then ready to take a look at Anik’s photograph.

‘Andre Boogaard.’

Bosch removed his glasses and sipped his coffee. Anik couldn’t believe it.

‘Told you he knew everything.’ Garritt smirked.

Anik snapped into action, opening ‘notes’ on his mobile. ‘Bogart? Like Humphrey Bogart?’

‘B-o-o-g-a-a-r-d. Andre Boogaard. I kicked him out on his ass. He was no good. I only have time for people who want to learn, want to grow, want to achieve. I’m fussy about who I teach.’ Bosch leant towards Anik and whispered loudly enough for Garritt to hear. ‘Don’t tell him. It will go to his head.’

Josh laid his knife and fork down on his plate. ‘Oh, my goodness me! I don’t know what to say. You almost got me in tears, Penny. I’ve not tasted food like that in months.’ Penny was actually blushing — which Jack and Maggie found hilarious. Jack emptied the third bottle of wine into everyone’s glasses, whilst Maggie cleared the dinner plates and put dessert bowls in the oven to warm. Penny asked Josh about the work he did. ‘Ah, well now, I’m not sure that’s table talk.’

‘Josh, my son is a policeman, and my soon-to-be-daughter-in-law is a doctor. There’s nothing you can say that will shock me.’

‘Well, OK, ma’am. But you stop me if that proves to be wrong. I’m a consultant with the police in the US and, in recent months, in the UK. My specialty is drugs. I move around making sure we got joined-up thinking, ’cos that’s the only way we’re gonna shut ’em down. I’m the one that gets down and dirty with the bad guys. I learn the tricks of their trade, so I can show people like Jack how to use those tricks against them. Then we can predict what they’re gonna do next and get there first.’ The wine was now getting the better of Penny because, quite unexpectedly, she asked if Josh carried a gun. ‘Not at the dinner table, ma’am,’ Josh joked. ‘Back home I carry a Glock at my hip and a little Ruger on my ankle. I do have my weapons over here with me, but I save them for special occasions.’

Jack jumped in as the moment presented itself. ‘Talking of special occasions.’

Maggie gulped her wine as Jack pulled a gift bag out of the pasta cupboard where he’d hidden it earlier that evening. God, she hoped this last-minute gift wasn’t too shit. Josh saw the ‘Happy Birthday’ tag and Penny’s delighted face.

‘Nooo!’ Josh looked genuinely horrified. ‘Jack, why didn’t you tell me!’

Penny reached across the table and tapped the back of Josh’s hand. ‘You’re here. That’s enough.’ Jack kissed Penny’s cheek and handed her the bag. Then he refilled everyone’s glasses whilst she gently pulled the red ribbon that held the handles together. Inside the bag were a series of images, downloaded and printed from the internet, then wrapped in tissue paper and tied together with another ribbon. Out of context, the first few images of landscapes and rolling fields were confusing, but then came an image of the city farm situated ten or so miles outside of London... then an image of sheep with their newborn lambs. The next page was laid out like an adoption certificate:

Penny’s voice quivered, ‘You bought me a lamb?’

‘You can be there when it’s born,’ Jack said. ‘And you can visit anytime. I thought you and Hannah might like to watch Charlie grow over the years.’

Penny leapt from her chair and into Jack’s arms. Her breathing faltered and her shoulders shook, and Jack hugged her close as they took a moment to remember the lamb’s namesake: Charlie Warr, her late husband and Jack’s adopted father. As Jack held Penny, Maggie gave him a silent round of applause. She had no idea how he’d done it, but he’d superbly grasped victory from the jaws of defeat.

Jack had also bought a chocolate birthday cake, which Penny decided to keep until the next day when Hannah could join her in blowing out the candles.

Whilst they tucked into mammoth helpings of bread-and-butter pudding with homemade custard, Penny suddenly picked up the earlier conversation from where it had left off. ‘Do you think guns give people a false sense of power, Josh? Making it more likely that they’ll get into trouble, rather than less?’

Josh grinned at the astuteness of Penny’s wine-fuelled question. ‘If I had my way, I’d educate gun owners in the same way a karate sensei educates his pupils. Having the power to defend yourself, should be treated with respect. It’s for defence, not attack. Unfortunately, yes, you’re right, some people can’t handle that power.’

‘Can I ask, Josh...’ Maggie was as hypnotised as Penny by Josh’s smooth Alabama accent. ‘How are the drugs moving around so easily from China, New York and now Europe?’

Jack rolled his eyes and got up to open the brandy that Penny had sent him to buy earlier.

‘Well, you see, in Brazil there are these places called favelas — they’re shantytowns mixed in with open markets where anything can be sold. Anything. Dealers sell drugs and guns, and they’re protected by armed gang members ’cos it’s big business. These places are no-go areas for law enforcement. They’re huge mazes, anyways — even if the police could find their way in, they’d never find their way out. Not alive, anyhow.’

Penny gave an audible gasp. Josh gave Jack a quick sideways grin: he was playing to his audience and loving it!

‘It’d be a massacre if the cops went into the shantytowns of Mexico and Brazil. They have hundreds of shootouts every month, and that’s just between rival gangs. Some parts of the drugs world are lowbrow mayhem, and some parts are quiet, smart, confident men and women willing to risk everything for the money that’s on offer. Whilst the dumbasses, pardon me, are making a whole lotta noise over there...’ Josh made a spiderlike shape with his left hand, followed by another with his right hand, ‘the smart guys are quietly moving around over here. The cops go where the noise is. One way this gang gets drugs across borders is decoys. They hire someone with a drug habit to move through customs with ten pellets of cocaine up his... whilst the real payload crosses elsewhere. The guy goes to prison and gets put on a free detox programme, his family gets a large payout, the gang moves their drugs. Everybody wins.’

‘Do you know what I think, Josh?’ Penny sounded like she was about to solve one of the biggest international law-enforcement problems this century had ever seen. Josh gave her his full attention. ‘I think that if drugs were made legal, it would take away all of the mystery and excitement and people would get bored of it very quickly. When Jack was twelve, I caught him at the bottom of the garden drinking from a bottle of cider. I took him indoors and we all shared it over dinner. It wasn’t mysterious or exciting anymore, so Jack wasn’t interested. And, to this day, he doesn’t drink to excess, do you, darling?’

Jack popped the cork from the brandy and poured four glasses.

Jack placed a large brandy in front of Penny and handed a second to Josh. ‘People don’t take drugs because they’re mysterious and exciting. They’re addicts who can’t stop by themselves and who need help. They’re the ones we do this for.’

Penny swirled her brandy around the bowl of the glass. She knew she’d said something naive and didn’t know how to backtrack. So she did the only thing she could: ‘This is Remy Martin, Josh. A favourite of my late husband’s. Do you like it?’

Josh smiled and raised his glass. ‘I think your husband was a connoisseur, Penny.’