The Abduction of Grace

By Anthony Hulse

Five year old Grace is abducted in Majorca, which leads to a worldwide manhunt. Her parents financially insecure suffer turmoil as they are suspected, although never charged with the crime. Anna Curren, an investigative journalist becomes obsessed with the case, and with the blessing of Grace’s parents, who have lost confidence with CID, she employs the services of a private investigator. The trail leads the team to Majorca, Prague, and the South of France, and ultimately to links with the Russian mafia and a child trafficing organisation. A complex tale of obsession, greed, and passion, ultimately climaxing in a frightening and surprising scenario. This novel is a guaranteed page turner!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Mar 21, 2014
• ISBN: 9781291791266

Book preview

The Abduction of Grace

The Abduction of Grace

Anthony Hulse

Copyright @ Anthony Hulse 2015

ISBN: 978-1-291-79126-6

The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronically or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage or retrieval system without permission from the author, except for the quotations in a review.

Dedications

Dedicated to Sue and my sons, Anthony and Adrian.

Also to my late wife, Carol, who will never be forgotten.

Foreword

Never before have I written a novel that included factual characters, but this is an exception. A friend of mine, Mark Sheerin, asked me if it would be possible to include him in one of my novels. At first, I refused, stating this is most uncommon. However, I decided to comply with his wishes.

Prologue

Cala D’or, Majorca.

The young couple entertaining their five-year old daughter at the poolside seemed content. Vincent Dwyer, at the age of thirty had recently joined the incessant band of British craftsmen, deemed unworthy of maintaining stable employment. A fitter by trade, Vincent was made redundant from BAE Systems, where he had been employed for five years. The highly skilled workforce manufactured Terrier army vehicles, such as tanks. 

Vincent’s wife, Juliet had also been unfortunate concerning her short career as a schoolteacher. After a horrific blaze devastated the junior school, officials decided to place the pupils in nearby educational institutions, but their tutors were left unemployed.

Owing to the seemingly relentless economic meltdown worldwide, the Dwyers now struggled to keep up their mortgage payments. Once a two-car family, Juliet had made the ultimate sacrifice and sold her beloved Mini. Their joint redundancy packages helped to stem their financial situation somewhat, but after paying their loans and credit cards off, they were now desperate.

In order to ease their stressful dilemma, Vincent had suggested a holiday. Although his wife objected to such a costly venture, she eventually succumbed to Vincent’s proposal. His reckoning was they were both highly skilled individuals and would find work just as soon as this latest recession ended. Inwardly, Juliet worried, and rightly so. She realised that if their current financial status did not improve soon, they would have to sell off their three bedroom detached home in Yarm.

Vincent massaged sun cream onto Juliet’s back, before he joined his daughter, Grace in the children’s pool. He helped her onto the inflatable bed and manoeuvred her around the pool. Some of the hotel guests smiled affectionately, but others seemed to resent the intrusion. He dismissed Juliet’s theory that the miserable guests were all Germans, and claimed some of the British were just as woeful.

Juliet pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head and browsed through the Daily Mirror. Vinny, it’s still pissing down back home. They say it’s the wettest summer on record.

Vincent squinted against the bright sun. The weather’s appropriate for the bloody economy. What future is there for our children? It’s the kids I feel sorry for. The lost generation. Frigging Tory government.      

No way, countered Juliet. Things weren’t much better under Labour. Anyway, I thought we were here to forget about our troubles.

We are, luv. Do me a favour. I could murder a cold beer.

Juliet sighed, put on her sunglasses, and made her way to the refreshment bar. She smiled at some of the revelers, quenching their thirsts. The majority of them nodded their appreciation. Contrary to the act of humanity, was the barmaid, a stocky Spanish woman going by the name of Benita. Benita served the adult customers without so much as a smile. The children, she seemed more affable with and served them ice cream, accompanied by a few kind words of Spanish.

One beer, one orange juice, and a glass of red wine, please, smiled Juliet.

Normally, she would not drink alcohol in the early afternoon, but this was paid for. This was their first holiday abroad, apart from a cruise they had won the year before, courtesy of Grace’s selection in a regional Toddler’s Togs competition. To go all-inclusive at the Cala Gran Hotel appealed to them. Juliet could no longer envisage visiting such places as Blackpool, Skegness, or Torquay. Compared to their UK holidays, Majorca seemed like paradise, and she planned to make the most of it. She glanced towards one of the tables to see an obese, middle-aged man sat alone. The bare-chested man stared attentively at the Englishwoman, which made her feel most uncomfortable. The grey-haired man beamed, and his red face matched his sunburnt torso.

Juliet, being a courteous person by nature, returned the smile, prompting the fat man to lick his slobbering lips provocatively.

Can I help you? quizzed Juliet.

Excuse me?

Do I know you? I mean, the way you’re staring at me, it’s as…

No, you do not know me… Your daughter is beautiful, no? The comment was delivered in broken English. True, Grace had indeed inherited her mother’s looks, with her long, jet-black hair, her chiselled cheekbones, her vivid blue eyes, and the prominent gap between her teeth. Her dark complexion was an attribute bequeathed by her French grandmother.   

Juliet appeared troubled by the mention of Grace. My daughter? What do you know about my daughter?

I have watched her in the pool. She is a credit to you.

Juliet smiled falsely. Perhaps she judged the foreigner harshly. Not every person who lauds over a child is a paedophile. She recalled when she was in the local park recently. She came across a distressed little boy, weeping and clearly lost. Juliet took him by the hand and decided to search for his parents. It was then that the uncouth mother confronted her. She accused Juliet of stealing her son, and called her a paedophile.

Juliet explained, and the chav, when realising she had made an error of judgement, departed without so much as an apology.

Juliet again smiled at the elderly man before she went on her way. A young English couple beckoned her over to a table.

Excuse me, welcomed the cheery redhead. I could not help but notice you were uncomfortable with old Hans. We too were suspicious of him when we arrived here some ten days ago, but he really is harmless. She pointed towards the pool. He dotes on our son, but he just loves children… He lives in the hotel.

Juliet glanced at the man. Bloody hell; he must be loaded to live here all-inclusive.

The redhead continued. He’s friendly with all of the children. Believe me, Hans is one of the friendlier Germans.

Vincent, who tried not to ogle the two young girls that purposely showed too much cleavage, saw the approach of his wife and paddled towards the edge of the pool. The tall, blonde man sported designer stubble, his hair cropped short. The handsome man attracted much undue attention from the fairer sex. He gratefully accepted the cold beer and drank thirstily. Ah, nectar.

Grace, called Juliet. Are you thirsty, darling? Mummy’s brought you an orange juice.

The girl left her inflatable bed and swam towards her mother.

Your shoulders are so red. Let mummy apply some more sun cream.

Grace swallowed her orange juice. Mummy, I really like it here. Must we go home?

We only arrived yesterday. We’ve another five full days before we leave. Why don’t you make friends with the other children?

Grace frowned. They talk funny.

That’s because some of them come from other countries, just like on that big ship last year. The majority of them speak English… That little girl over there in the red swimsuit. I know she’s British.

She’s too young for me. She’s only four.

Grace returned to her inflatable bed and Juliet rejoined her husband, who basked in the sun.

Vince, when we do find work, we’ll take our holidays abroad from now on. This is so wonderful.

Vincent lay back on his sunbed and closed his eyes. He had been deceitful to his wife; their initial financial status far worse than she could ever imagine.

Chapter One

It was early evening, and as promised, Vincent led his wife and daughter towards the picturesque harbour, where they would dine in comfort. The temperature had understandably fallen, but the humidity prompted the family to dress lightly and casually.

Vincent wore khaki shorts, a red and white Hawaiian shirt, and designer trainers. Juliet plumped for an airy green blouse and matching skirt; her sunglasses pushed to the top of her ebony mane more as a fashion accessory than a necessity. Grace skipped between her parents and held their hands; her Minnie Mouse tee shirt and shorts her choice of attire.  

The marina in Cala Llonga was but a fifteen-minute stroll from the hotel, and the trio seemed in high spirits. They joked and sang childish songs as they advanced downhill. On reaching the marina, they happily opted for seats outside the Jolly Roger Bar. Earlier in the week, they had called at the English pub to quench their thirst. The owners and customers of the Jolly Rogers had treated Grace like a princess. She constantly pleaded with her parents to return to the establishment, which suited Vincent just fine, as the prices were very reasonable for a waterfront position.

Grace expressed joy, and begged her parents to see the many fish swimming close to the wall of the marina. John, the proprietor of the Jolly Roger promised to supply Grace with some bread for the fish if she promised to eat all of her meal.

The magnificent marina consisted of five hundred and ninety berths, which mostly consisted of grand yachts and boats that sought shelter from storms.

Vincent admired the stunning views as he tucked into his steak. The light faded, and the neons reflected colourful splendour onto the calm, azure water. He watched enviously as the boat owners of various nationalities dined on their lavish crafts.  His eyes flickered between such names as The Pride of London, Make My Day, Ginger, and Molly Maguire.

Juliet proceeded to capture the exquisite fleet with her camera. She noticed the concern in her husband’s eyes and reached across for his hands. Perhaps one day, Vince, eh?

I wish… Some of those boats cost twice as much as our home. Bloody bent bankers, politicians, and corrupt executives.

Juliet savoured her red wine, and the candles set on the tables projected shadows on her face. No poshed up boat can compensate for what we have.

Vincent kissed her and smiled falsely. He embraced Grace and kissed her on the head.

Juliet frowned and noticed the unease on the face of her husband. Vincent was a wonderful, loving husband and father, but this evening he displayed uncharacteristic affection. Perhaps their fragile circumstances, along with too much sun and sangria had caused such a show of emotion. 

Daddy, called Grace impatiently. Can we feed the fish now?

Just as soon as we finish our drinks, poppet.

The Dwyers’ conversed with other holidaymakers and the drinks flowed abundantly. Vincent had acquired a taste for the local sangria and ordered a large glass. The couple ignored their daughter’s pleas to feed the fish, and promised they would later.

A middle-aged English couple joined in the merry conversation. They boasted they were searching for property in Majorca. Peter, the tormentor, explained that he had retired early from working on the oil rigs with a healthy pension and lump sum. Even though he was just fifty-one years of age, he had decided to enjoy life before ill health beckoned.

Spanish music echoed around the marina and Vince and Juliet were lost in the ambience and the romance of the occasion. Both were merry after the alcohol took effect.

Juliet rose from her seat, concern displayed on her pretty, dark features. Grace! Where’s Grace?

Vincent also stood up and proceeded to roam the premises of the pub. He spotted Grace by the side of the marina, accompanied by a group of children, who were the offspring of the customers. He approached his frantic wife. It’s okay, darling. She’s feeding the fish with the other kids.

Juliet looked towards the harbour and yelled, Grace! Don’t you go too near the edge, do you hear me?

The small girl sighed and placed her hands on her hips. I’m not a child, Mummy.

Juliet could not help but laugh and settled down once more. She found solace in her fresh glass of wine. Kids, she slurred, obviously affected by her wine. They grow up so fast nowadays.

Peter’s wife, Joy spoke up. We were taught the facts of life just before we left school. Now they’re educated just as soon as they come off the titty bottle.

Vincent deemed the sangria too sweet, and ordered a beer and a fresh glass of red wine for his wife.

She giggled childishly. Bloody hell, Vince. You’re sweating buckets.

Yeah well, it’s so bloody humid tonight.

Juliet lit a cigarette, a vice Vincent resented. Why his wife felt the need to smoke only when drinking was beyond him. He wafted away the irritating smoke and again smiled falsely at Peter, who told a rendition of awful jokes. Vincent then noticed Juliet staring past him, the blood visibly drained from her dark face.

What is it?

Juliet stubbed out her cigarette. That man over there. The fat one wearing the fedora; it’s him, Hans.

Vince focused on the German stood by the marina, licking an ice cream cone. So what, shrugged Vince. He’s allowed to leave the hotel, isn’t he?

Who’s Hans? asked Peter.

Juliet ignored the question and instinctively turned towards where Grace fed the fish. Only one child could be seen, and it was not her daughter. She rose once more, hurried from the pub, and her husband chased after her. Juliet stooped down to address a small girl. Grace, did you see where she went?

The girl nodded. She went with her mummy.

Juliet quickly sobered up, her mouth dry and her hands trembling uncontrollably. No! She didn’t… I’m her mother.

Is everything okay, Tammy? came the voice from behind.

The child’s father regarded Juliet and Vincent suspiciously.

My baby, whimpered Juliet. My baby daughter, she’s gone.

Vincent embraced his distraught wife. Calm down, luv. I’m sure she won’t have gone far.

Juliet once more faced Tammy. Did you see where Grace went?

The girl remained silent.

By now, a sizable crowd gathered. John, the proprietor of the Jolly Roger called the police.

Tammy’s mother smiled at her confused daughter. Tammy, the little girl who you were with; where did she go?

She went with her mummy.

Juliet paced up and down the establishments on the marina and muttered incoherently. She pleaded with the diners. Has anyone seen my daughter? She’s wearing a Mickey Mouse tee shirt. The muttering now changed to hysterical shouting. Someone must have seen her…please!

Tammy now pointed out towards the moored boats. I think her mummy took her on a boat.

Which one? asked Vincent.

I’m not sure.

Juliet proceeded to run aimlessly along the marina, yelling out her daughter’s name. Vincent leapt onto one boat, peered into the saloon and hull windows, and shouted out for his daughter. He boarded each nearby boat, but his search proved fruitless. Several of the boat owners protested, but later realised his predicament.

Juliet and several of the other concerned bystanders now gazed into the dark water. In the distance, they heard the sound of approaching sirens. As if hit by an afterthought, Juliet looked towards the section of marina where she had last seen Hans. He had vanished. Hans! Fucking Hans! He was here… He said Grace was beautiful.

Vincent attempted without success to calm his wife down. Rivers of mascara now streamed down her dark face. The police are on their way. We’ll find her. I promise you.

The normally tranquil and scenic marina had been violated that summer’s evening. A heinous crime had been committed on Cala D’or’s waterfront; a crime that would attract the attention of the public worldwide.  

Chapter Two

Sitting opposite the distressed couple at La Policia headquarters were a silver-haired police inspector and a female sergeant. Vincent and Juliet waived their rights to legal representation, and deemed their need for a solicitor unwarranted, seeing as they had committed no crime. That they had been offered the services unsettled them, which resulted in a sensation of paranoia and guilt. An interpreter was not needed, given the fluency in English of the police officers in attendance.

Inspector Ramone sat solemn-faced throughout the interview, and smiled only when he informed the couple that a delegate from the British Consular would be with them shortly. The veteran Inspector appeared methodical in his questioning, and repeated his earlier queries purposely, possibly in the hope that the couple would slip up. He spoke in Spanish to the female Sergeant, before he resumed his questioning.

Senora Dwyer, why do you suspect Hans Gruber in being involved in the disappearance of your daughter?

He seems over affectionate towards children; too over affectionate if you get my meaning… Only this morning, he remarked how beautiful Grace was, only it was the way he said it.

And so she is, Senora? I’ve seen her photograph.

Yes, but…

Then perhaps the remark was innocent.

But, I saw him. I saw him tonight at the marina, just before Grace disappeared.

The Inspector once more uttered to his colleague in Spanish.

The pretty,raven-haired Sergeant spoke up. Of course we are questioning this Hans as we speak, but you must understand that without any evidence, it is difficult.

How much had you to drink? quizzed the Inspector.

What? gasped Vincent, swatting away a fly. A single ceiling fan whirred overhead, its purpose hardly a substitute for the lack of air conditioning. What sort of a question is that? How much we had to drink is irrelevant. We’re on holiday for Christ’s sake.

Senor Dwyer, witnesses say that you both drank excessively.

I resent that remark, growled Juliet. She pointed a threatening finger at the impassive policemen. Yes, like every other holidaymaker, we enjoyed a drink, but Grace was always in our sight.

Inspector Ramone shrugged. Evidently not… Witnesses are being questioned of course, but nobody so far recalls seeing anything suspicious. We have only the word of a small child, who states that Grace went with her mother.

Yes, spluttered Vince, who again swatted away the fly. What about this boat Tammy saw the woman board?

We are checking with the marina authorities, and we do have some limited CCTV footage to examine… Don’t you find it strange that nobody else witnessed this incident?

Vince held his wife’s hand. Why are we being treated like criminals? Haven’t you lot learnt anything from the Rebecca fiasco?

The Inspector smirked satisfactorily. That was Portugal, Senor… Listen, we do not wish to appear vindictive, but we must be thorough in our investigation. Quite often in child abduction cases, the parents are responsible for the crime. The fact is that you both had been drinking excessively and irresponsibly, and your vigilance concerning your daughter was negligent.

Vincent slapped the table. For crying out loud, man; we are the victims here… Listen, what are you doing about finding Grace?

The Inspector sighed and loosened his tie. The airports are being monitored, as are the seaports. The photograph of Grace you supplied us with has been photocopied and distributed throughout our ranks, and a nationwide manhunt is now in operation. If this Hans is in anyway responsible, we will know. As I’ve already stated, a representative from the British Embassy is on his way here and should be here shortly. I’m sure he’ll be of assistance and brief you accordingly. Also, the Guardia Civil are to oversee this investigation… My suggestion to you would be to appoint an English-speaking attorney.

******

Twenty minutes later, the anxious couple was ushered into another room, where a tall, bearded man waited. Judging by his attire of a grey, pinstriped suit, the chances were that this was the representative from the British Embassy.

He removed his spectacles, rested his leather briefcase on the table, and offered his hand. Hello, my name is Howard Charles and I’m a representative of the British Consular. Sorry for the delay, but we’re a tad short-handed at the moment.

He sat opposite the couple and grimaced when he tasted his coffee. Bloody Spanish. Their coffee tastes like tar and their tea-making skills leave a lot to be desired. He removed a set of forms from his briefcase and handed one to Vincent. "This, you may find useful. There’s a list of English-speaking lawyers and interpreters, along with a set of guidelines. Unfortunately, we do not provide accommodation, travel, or your legal costs. I trust your insurance will cover the basics… I’ll jot down some details. I understand you’re staying in the Cala Gran Hotel. I have your names, address, so forth,