The Value of Life

By Andy Crowson

A 12 y/o boy is kidnapped - but the ransom price is left to his parents! Before he is returned (safely) another boy is taken. Then another. Rookie detective Joseph Lindahl is a psychology graduate and thinks he knows what the kidnapper wants - but colleagues are sceptical. The solution might please the press and embarrass a judge, but it it gets Joseph into trouble at Longmarsh Police HQ

• Language: English
• Publisher: Andy Crowson
• Release date: Jan 10, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458095084

Andy Crowson

Apprentice trained Motor Engineer turned qualified IT specialist, now teaching IT & Motor Engineering at a vocational College in Orebro, Sweden, were he lives with wife Etta and son Ossian

Book preview

The Value of Life

Andy Crowson

Copyright 2005 Andy Crowson

Smashwords Edition 2011

The Value of Life

Chapter 1: K

The rain 'thunked' hollowly on the van roof: it would have made K drowsy if it hadn't been so cold. K had been waiting nearby for an hour now. He wasn't exactly scared as such, but he was nervous and the butterflies in his stomach didn't help.

He poured the last of the coffee from the thermos and sipped it. He had done this so many times in his head, on paper, in his dreams; he knew the whole plan back to front. It was just taking the first step that was hard. Up till this moment it had all been planning, now it was action. The alarm on his mobile phone activated and started vibrating in his hand but he didn't need it, he'd been looking at it. He knew he still had at least ten minutes before the kids made their way across the recreation ground and through the broken fence into Brighton Road. Then only one of the children would cross the street, turn right into Eastbourne Road and let himself into the ninth house in a street of poor quality, semi detached houses, with his own key.

This particular house had a small front garden between the pavement and the door, surrounded by an overgrown hedge and a broken gate that Daniel Reece Martin, the eleven year old son of Michael and Janet Martin, walked through, every school day, at 3:25, coming home to an empty house.

K looked solemnly at the bottle and the soft rag on the seat next to him, drank the last of his coffee and started the van. He put the heater on and let the van warm up, but there was no condensation on the windows as he'd had them both cracked open the entire time he'd been waiting. It was just as K was beginning to get so scared he might back out, that the three kids emerged through the fence into Brighton Road from the rec.

K watched as Daniel crossed the road and left the others. It was only then that he pulled out from the curb and slid from a side street into Brighton road, then right into Eastbourne Road, and pulled up in the empty space outside Number 18. He opened the bottle and soaked the rag with ether, then squeezing the dripping rag into his coat pocket, jumped out and walked round to the sliding door just as the boy approached.

K himself was wearing navy blue trousers, a navy blue polo shirt and a nondescript large navy blue jacket. He could have been a delivery driver for just about anyone. His timing was perfect and as the boy drew level and turned for the gate K spoke, You live here kid, number 18?

Sure, you got somefing for us? the kid asked excitedly.

Your mum order a new widescreen telly set up? K asked, pointing to the huge cardboard box in the back of the van.

Yeah! the kid replied, excited just to hope that she might have done.

She in? said K. Or ya Dad, I need a lift?

The kid looked puzzled and disappointed for a split second,

Nan got sick and Mum went to look after her this mornin', the boy lied. Dad's at work but I got the key, I can let ya in. He looked hopeful.

K looked the kid up and down. He was small and thin, his clothes looked worn and his shoes were scuffed from black to grey at the toes. His black hair was short cropped and K thought it had the shapeless look of home cut hair.

You look like a strong un, how about you give us a hand to get it out of the van then? K invited.

The boy dropped his schoolbag just inside the gate and jumped into the van, K climbed in after him, one hand in his pocket. He slid the door shut and grabbed the boy in one swift movement, forcing the cloth over the child's mouth and nose whilst holding him still. It was much easier then K had thought it would be, and even though the kid struggled it was easy to hold him still. K had been worried about how much the van might rock if the boy struggled but he guessed hardly at all. As the seconds passed the boy became more subdued until he hardly moved.

K removed the rag, the boy was not fully unconscious but he was immobile and sedated. K bound the boy's hands with carpet tape and lifted him into the big box, covered him with a blanket and taped the lid shut. There were pillows inside the box, arranged so that the boy would remain sitting up and not choke should he vomit, but otherwise, it was dark and plain.

K stepped out from the side of the van, walked casually around to the driver's door, stepped in and checked his phone on the dash. It was 3:33, the whole thing had taken less than eight minutes and K figured he'd been outside the house for about four of those. He started the van and pulled out, using the act of checking for traffic to look at windows and up and down the street for anyone who might have seen something. There was no one. He turned right into Allcot Street and was gone.

The place K had chosen for the base of this project was an old railway cottage well away from anywhere else and on a disused railway line on the outskirts of the New Forest. He had bought it over a year ago when he had conceived the idea and decided to go ahead. When he had bought it there had been no electric or gas, no real roof to speak of over one half of the house and certainly no mod cons.

Even though he had never been that handy he had done most of the work himself. It'd taken all his free time, but that was not a problem - after all, there was precious little else to occupy him and he'd been thankful for the distraction.

Other than the electric company, a local roofer and a plumber for the gas, no one had been out here but him. He'd bought all the materials at various DIY stores and transported them out here in the van. He'd got pretty good over time and the place had turned out nice, but it was still simple. The model for soundproofing was taken from an internet website on building recording studios in your garage and the security was only meant to stump kids. Locking grates over the windows would not be so uncommon in this remote a place.

He pulled up outside and checked his watch, it was just starting to get dark and the long drive had made him hungry. The boy had come round about a half hour ago and after an initial bout of screaming had turned to crying softly.

K lifted the box out of the van onto a sack barrow and wheeled it into the cottage. He wheeled the box into a small sound proofed room that had once been a large wardrobe. It had no windows and was furnished only with a bed and table. But there was a TV, DVD, games console, a box of various DVDs and games. K had fitted a sink and toilet and put a fridge in the corner. This was, basically, a prison cell. A prison cell with the uniform waiting on the bed, a single set of blue Harry Potter pajamas.

K opened the box and at first the boy wouldn't look up, but when K lifted the boy to his feet he stood shakily and stared straight at him.

I didn't do nuffin' wrong, please lemme go, he sobbed.

K undid the tape around the boy's arms and although it hadn't been very tight the boy still winced.

Get washed and changed, K said, you can watch TV while I fix dinner, I don't know about you but I'm starved. He shut the door behind him and wandered into the kitchen. When he returned to the cell the boy was sat in the pajamas on the bed watching TV. K had a homemade hamburger and chips on a plate. He put them on the bed and sat down.

You know what kidnapping is? he asked.

Yeah, said the boy softly, it's when you want money to give me back.

That's right. K smiled. That's what this is, so I'm gonna look after you, an' if you do as I say and be good, you're gonna be home with your Mum and Dad before you know it. The boy looked hopeful. One thing though, K carried on, I'm gonna be away from here for days at a time. It's totally safe here, you can't get out and no one but me can get in. There's plenty to eat and drink so long as you're not greedy and you've got everything you need here. The boy's face was passive for a while then he looked worried.

It's gonna be OK. K said reassuringly.

What if you die, in a crash or somefin'? the boy said eyes widening. I'll be stuck here.

Nah you won't. K smiled. I've got a plan for that haven't I? K stood and turned to leave.

Eat up now, I'll be here tonight but tomorrow I'll be gone again, I'll check in again later. He closed the door leaving the boy in the cell alone. When K checked in sometime after nine the kid was asleep on the bed, K switched off the TV and took the remains of dinner out on the tray, the kid had eaten and that was a good sign.

Chapter 2: The Martins

Janet Martin usually got home about six, but today she'd had a particularly fussy customer who though her highlights were not light enough, and had forced Janet to redo them. By the time she got home, tired and wet, it was six thirty five. She opened the front door and stepped into the hall.

Daniel? she called as she shook off her coat and hung it on the crowded hooks on the wall. She called again and listened, no TV, no music. Maybe he was sleeping. She wandered into the kitchen, shook the kettle and flicked it on, then went into the living room.

She spent the next ten minutes padding around between the kitchen, the bathroom and living room, calling twice more and checking his bedroom before murmuring something about not playing out and killing him. At five past seven Michael Martin came in through the front door carrying a soaked and dripping school bag in one extended hand.

Daniel, he called angrily, you left ya' schoolbag by the gate an' its bloody soaked.

Janet hurried from the living room,

What? she said.

I found 'is schoolbag by the gate, he said, Look, it's ruined,

He opened it and pulled out a soaking book. We can't afford another one. He dropped the soaking bag by the door.

What? he said as his wife covered her mouth with her hands.

He's not in, I thought he was out playing with his mates, she looked again at the bag on the floor, I'll call Justin's Mum, she said and headed for the phone.

I'm getting sommin' to eat, I'm starved. I'm sure he'll turn up when he's hungry. Mr Martin said and strode to the kitchen, You wanna tea? he called over his shoulder.

After several phone calls Janet entered the kitchen where her husband was sat at the cramped table with a loaf of bread, the margarine and an open packet of ham, his cup of tea half way to his mouth as he looked up.

Nobody's seen him and Justin says he left Dan up at the Rec like always. Something's happened to 'im Michael I know it, she said. Michael lowered his cup an inch.

Nah, he's got some new mate you don't know about and he don't want you to know about 'cause he's a skally and they're off somewhere right now lightin' fires or somethin' stupid, he said dismissively.

I'm serious Michael, he left his bag, it's raining, she looked shaken.

It's nothing Jan, he's just up to no good, we'll get a call he's been shopliftin' or summin. Kids don't feel the rain, if he ain't back by nine I go lookin'. He'll be hanging on some street corner somewhere. He lifted the cup, took a gulp, set it down and went about making his sandwich. Janet looked at him for several seconds before her shoulders tightened.

Fine, you just sit there and eat your stupid sandwich and I'll go look for him, she shouted. Michael threw the half made sandwich on the table.

For God's sake woman he's eleven not five, and it's not even half seven! Give it till eight and if he 'aint in I'll go look myself, that do ya? he yelled back.

Janet stared at him a moment longer before she strode from the room. He picked up his sandwich and took a bite, he had barely tasted it before he spat the lump out onto the plate,

Ham's fuckin' off, he said angrily and strode out of the kitchen towards the door.

You win, he yelled. I'll go look for him an' I'll get sommin' to eat while I'm out. He waited in silence in the hallway a few seconds before yelling, You're welcome, into the silence and reached for his coat.

By half past nine the search had covered the entire local area and Mr. Martin himself was starting to worry. They called the police at nine and reported Daniel missing but no one was taking things very seriously at the moment, or at least it seemed. Mr. Martin was still out looking and Janet was home pacing the floor when the call came, she snatched up the phone,

Michael, have you found him? she asked urgently. The answer was slow in coming.

No, and he won't. I just rang to tell you that I have Daniel and he is safe ... For now. You will be contacted.

The line went dead. Mrs. Martin dropped the phone and fell to her knees and cried. It was a full ten minutes before she was able to phone her husband or the police.

Chapter 3: Josef Lindahl

Josef cursed at the phone and ruffled through the cushions for the remote control to the TV, he found it and hit mute just before accepting the call on his mobile. He didn't recognize the caller's number but it was from another mobile.

Josef Lindahl, he said politely.

Josef? It's Peter Bentworth. Josef was instantly alert, We've come up against a situation here and to be frank it's not one we're used to, I need you to come in.

Josef was taken aback, although he knew the Chief Detective Inspector of his division it was only in passing and a face at meetings; they were certainly not on first name terms. Josef had only been a policeman six months and although he had been taken on as Detective Constable, due mostly to a degree in Criminal Psychology, he had yet to do anything that proved he was worth his rank as detective.

No probs, he said, Can you tell me the nature of the problem?

It looks as though a child has been kidnapped, Bentworth said flatly, taking Josef completely by surprise. He'd pictured himself in riot gear stamping on a petrol bomb or something.

What can I do? I mean, why me? he stuttered.

You're the nearest person with any kind of psychological training, and, it seems, the only one, He let the idea absorb for a second. So, he continued, Quick as you can, meet us at the CID interview rooms upstairs.

Josef barely had chance to agree before he was cut off.

Within ten minutes he was in his Clio heading towards Longmarsh police station, his mind was racing with both excitement and fear. When he pulled into the car park it had been barely twenty minutes since the call. He swiped his card in the back door card reader and headed straight upstairs to the CID interview rooms. Peter Bentworth was waiting in the corridor.

Bentworth was surprised by Josef's appearance. He'd expected a geeky looking thimble in a suit. Instead he saw a young man, not conventionally handsome, but rugged looking, with short-cropped black hair and broad shoulders. He wore a casual suit with a tie.

Ah, there you are. Step in here while I brief you, he said, indicating a door to a small office on their right.

Inside Josef was given the brief timeline and series of events, just as the parents had given the department, but the CDI explained, even though he himself would conduct the interviews, a thorough questioning had been put off until Josef arrived.

Josef left the room with more questions than answers but he kept silent and followed the CDI into the first interview