Disclaimer: I don't Max, Millie or even awesome bad guy Marek. Dang.

A/N: With chapter honours to an old family dictionary and too much time on my hands…

Chapter Eight:
Meeting

The dockyards were quiet, only the soft sound of machinery moving around in the distance as Max stepped out of his car and, hands shoved in his pockets, waited for any sign of Jankowski. A scrabble of shoes on dirt and a voice ten minutes later signalled his appearance.

"Popoludnie." Max turned and stared at the man glaring back at him. "I didn't think you'd come." A cold smile crossed Jankowski's face. He hadn't changed much in five years. His hair was still greasy, his face still sallow and his eyes devoid of all emotion. Prison hadn't made him any more predictable either and Max kept the car between them, just in case.

"I came to tell you to leave me and my family alone."

Marek nodded. "I guessed so." He took a step closer and Max kept the car between them still, taking a few steps sideways. "Do I przestraszyc you DI Carter?"

Max glared back. "It's for your own good Mr. Jankowski because, in all honesty, I don't know what I'm capable of right now."

Marek chuckled. "Good answer. No uczucie; no feelings."

"Don't give me a lecture about feelings Jankowski, you destroyed your brother's family."

"No, you! You destroyed Thomas' family Mr. Carter. You shot and killed my brother. You started all of this. Everything." He waved his hands toward the docklands, taking it all in with a sweeping gaze. "All this balagan." He sighed, repeating the Polish word under his breath, the soft sounds of ba'wa'gan hitting Max's ears as his eyes remained trained on the man, not trusting anything he did for even a second. Finally Marek stopped pacing. "This ends here DI Carter." At that Max glanced about him, looking for signs of everyone else. He couldn't see anyone, but the feeling of being watched was overwhelming. He put his hands on his car keys just in case. "It's time we finish this, don't you agree?" Marek gave a cold, unnerving smile. "Build bridges as they say?"

Max kept his hands on his keys.

*

Her mother's red Honda started up a lot faster than the family's old car did and Millie had barely a second to register it was ready to go. As she pulled at the handbrake two small eyes at the passenger window caught her eye. She rolled the window down with the button next to her on the door. "Oscar, back inside to grandma."

"Mummy, can I come too?" Little more than his eyes and forehead were over the doorway, and even then he was probably on his tiptoes, his arms holding him up so he could look at his mother. "I can help."

"Sweetheart, please, go back inside and stay close to nana. If you see anyone, speak to anyone, you have to tell her straight away. Don't go with anyone, no matter how nice they are. Daddy and I will be back soon, then we'll go home okay?" His bright blue-green eyes watered up. "I have to go. Hop down." His face disappeared from the window and a minute later he appeared again in the garden by the driveway, looking through the passenger window and right into her soul. Millie bit her lip. She'd go through hell for her son, but how could she tell him that without scaring him? How could she tell him that he had to let her, his angel, face demons to make sure he was safe? In the end she held up a finger and gave a small wave. He waved back, his face still showing he was disappointed to be missing out on a trip. With one last look at his face, Millie stuck the car into reverse and left behind her young son's teary eyes.

*

"Sun Hill Police Station." Jennifer Copeland, 26-years-old and new to the police force, had been surprised when she'd been told she had a call waiting for her. She'd taken it quickly, brushing her shoulder-length mahogany brown hair back as she answered it, the bushy mop once again slightly tangled in her headset. She ignored it as a newly familiar voice came through.

"Jen, hi it's Millie again. Sorry to call you on the switchboard but your phone was off."

Jennifer smiled. "It's okay. What's the problem? Has that maroon sedan returned?"

"No, nothing from him lately, I think I was just over-reacting. It's something else. You're in the IBO right?" Jen gave a murmur of a yes as she glanced up at the Inspector walking past. She pretended to type something into the computer and he kept walking. "I need a huge, gigantic favour and if you can help me I'll owe you forever."

Jen bit her lip. "Millie, I don't know what I can do, I'm a PC. I just came off probationer like two months ago."

"I'll tell you what to do. Just trust me." Jen 'umm'ed and 'ahh'ed for a second and Millie spoke again. "Really, I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

Jen sighed and gave in. "What do you need?" As Millie went through what Jen had to do the constable's eyes caught those of her Inspector and he frowned. She gave him a small smile and he glanced back at the others in the room, returning a lowered eyebrow on her every so often. Eventually Jen got the whole plan and, putting down her headset, went to the computer at the back of the room where camera footage was called up to be watched live. She'd leaned over it and typed in 'Weighbridge Docklands, camera…' before a hand came down on her shoulder.

"PC Copeland?"

Jen smiled up at the Inspector warily. "Guv, hi, just…"

"Checking something out?" Jen nodded. "For whom?"

Jen looked away. "PC… um, PC…" The Inspector stared right through her. "PC Brown. PC Millie Brown."

He nodded. "Really? She's on maternity leave PC Copeland, you'll have to do better than that."

"It's the truth. Guv, she's on line 4, you can talk to her if you want." Jen reached over to her desk and grabbed the headset, passing it to him. As he took them she hit '1' on the keyboard and footage came up of empty docks. She hit 'backspace' and started to type in another number as the Inspector's voice came across.

"PC Brown?" He was quiet and Jen glanced at him. He caught her eye. "No, Millie, it's Inspector Smith. What are you doing calling my crew to run traces for you? You're on leave." Inspector Dale Smith frowned at Jen's 'I told you it was her' face and she looked back at the computer, typing in '2'. Another angle came up, this one showing one car and two men. Jen tapped at the screen and the Inspector frowned. "Millie, can you tell me why I'm looking at DI Carter at the Weighbridge Docklands." He frowned again. "The entrance on Birchgrove Rd. What do you mean he…" he put down the headset. "She hung up on me." He looked like he'd just been smacked in the face before turning a frown on Jen who actually took a step back in surprise. "Do you want to tell me what's going on PC Copeland?"

"It's a bit of a story."

"My office then. Two minutes." Smithy strode from the room and Jen sighed, flicking off the footage just as the screen became a blaze of movement.

*

After ten minutes of silence, Max spoke. "I thought we were going to talk?" He glanced at his watch. It had been nearly 40 minutes since he'd left the Brown's house and taken off on this hunt. He just wanted to go home, this whole thing over with, and get back to what he did best – solving crimes. Instead he was left with a silent Marek whose face was so devoid of emotion Max couldn't tell whether he was about to get hugged or stabbed. Naturally the safest bet was stabbed.

Marek looked up. "Did I say 'talk' DI Carter? I believe I said 'finish this'?"

"You told me to come to the docklands and we'd talk." He took a step towards his car, assuming the worst, but he wasn't fast enough as four vice-like hands gripped the top of his arms and dragged him back. He hadn't even heard them approach, too caught up in Marek's maniacal expression.

"We have talked DI Carter and it's been fun, but now we end this." Marek walked with them, making sure he was all Max could see as he was dragged backwards toward a group of shipping containers nearby. He heard one of them swing open and then he was lifted off his feet and tossed into one, collapsing into a pile of crates. One fell on him, pinning his ankle. He groaned in pain but kept his attention focused on Marek as the man stood in the doorway. "I'm afraid my English isn't as good as I thought, so I'll say this in a way we can both understand. You are not here for talking DI Carter. You are you here to marznac." Then, with a grin, Marek slammed the container door shut. With an angry shove Max pushed the crate off him and got to his feet just as a whooshing sound of fans echoed around the metal container. A breeze wafted over Max and he suddenly knew what Marek had meant. He was locked in a solar-powered cooling container; the type used to ship frozen products over on barges and container vessels. An over-sized, airtight freezer. And with no one coming to help he was about to do just what Marek had suggested. Marznac. Freeze to death.