Smile of the Tiger.
3.
Jonas remained silent.
"Good." said the voice. "Now I have your full attention, this whole matter is easily resolved. You pay your promised quarter of a million to us, we release your precious daughter unharmed, you then sit back and watch your investment grow and grow. What could be simpler, eh?"
Arabella was the apple of his eye and he didn't want to do anything that might jeopardise her safety. On the other hand, he also didn't want to just roll over and accept these demands.
He finally spoke.
"I know who you are, so how on earth do you think you can get away with this madness!" he growled.
"You don't know us actually, Lord Jonas." came the reply. "You met a couple of my team, but they aren't investors. Anyhow, we will get away with it. You see, if you involve the police or, God forbid, some sleazy private eye, certain compromising photographs will arrive on the editor's desks of the leading Sunday newspapers."
"What compromising photographs!?" thundered Jonas. "What are you talking about, man!?"
"Photographs of you and, let's say, two rather naked, busty young ladies."
"I've never been with another woman since I married my wife!" replied Jonas, incredulously. "We've been happy together for thirty-five years!"
"Oh we know that, Lord Jonas." said the voice. "But these days one can do marvellous things with photographs, splicing here, splicing there. A picture paints a thousand words, my lord. The girls involved have been well rewarded and would swear on oath that you were with them for a whole night. So, do we have a deal?"
Jonas was speechless for a while.
"I want to speak to Arabella." he said, finally.
"I thought you might."
A few moments later, she was on the line.
"Daddy?" she said. "Please do as they say."
"Have they hurt you, darling?"
"No, I'm being well treated."
"Have you any idea where you might be?"
"No I..." The phone was snatched away.
"Now, now Lord Jonas." said the voice. "No silly questions. You know what you have to do. Oh, I nearly forgot. Apart from the snaps we have, you ought to know that you'll never see your daughter again. She will be sold into prostitution, regularly drugged and sent some place where you'll never find her. You have twenty-four hours to decide her fate."
The line was cut.
Over at 'The Ritz' Rupert was seriously concerned. Arabella was now more than an hour late, no call had come through for him and he was suspecting she could have been involved in some accident or other.
Perhaps she was lying in a hospital bed right now.
If that was the case her family would have been notified immediately. He returned to the lobby and called Hartley Hall again.
Watson answered.
"Hartley Hall, how may I be of help?" he said.
"Watson, it's Rupert again." he said. "Have you heard anything at all? Bella is over an hour late and I'm very worried."
"No sir." Watson said. "But I'll check if his lordship has received a call on his private number, although I'm sure we would know if something had happened to Lady Arabella."
A few moments later, Jonas came on the line.
"Rupert, I think you'd better come over." he said.
"Why sir, what's happened?" asked Rupert, now very alarmed.
"Not on the 'phone, Rupert." replied Jonas. "I'll explain when you get here."
Forty-five minutes later, he was in Jonas's study and listening with horror at what he was being told.
"Surely you're going to pay them." said Rupert, when Jonas had finished.
"Not if I don't have to, Rupert." came the reply. "If I do, then I expose myself to fraud and this family's name is destroyed, not to mention my company. We've been supplying fine wines to the aristocracy and the Royal Family for generations. And if these spurious, disgusting photographs got into the hands of the press we'd all be a laughing stock and ruined, make no mistake."
"But you can't risk Arabella's life!" exclaimed Rupert. "God, I can't bear this!"
"I know. I can't either, Rupert. And I'm as terrified as you are." replied Jonas. "These people aren't killers, however. I'm going to play for time. I know one or two very high ranking policemen."
"But you can't go to the police, not if they are watching you, which they are bound to be doing." said Rupert, indignantly.
"No, but you can." replied Jonas.
"How do we know I'm not being watched?" asked Rupert.
"We don't." Jonas replied. "But I'm going to tell them I'll pay up. That way they'll be lulled into a false sense of security. They're greedy. They want the money like yesterday. In the meantime, I'll be in touch with my police contacts and let you know our next move."
"What if your telephone is tapped?" asked Rupert.
"It isn't." said Jonas, pointing to a green one on his desk. "This one here is a secure line. No-one knows its number. I use it to speak to members of the Royal Family. It is constantly monitored by Special Branch. There's no possible way they could get at it."
In a private suite at the Hilton Hotel, five men sat at a table, two either side, one at its head.
The four sitting opposite one another consisted of Tony Hill, a hedge fund manager, Jonnie Jordan, a property developer, George Smith, a textile manufacturer and Jeremy Dawkins, a retired finance director.
The man presiding over this meeting was a Syrian in his late forties.
His name was Hani Ahmadi.
He had a full head of thick, black hair and deeply tanned skin. His eyebrows were bushy, his eyes dark brown and protected by hooded lids with long black, almost feminine, lashes attached to them. His nose was large and his lips full and when he smiled it was disarming.
It always put people at ease with him. But anyone who believed he was a pushover did so at their peril.
For his smile was the smile of the tiger.
If you crossed him, it was usually the last thing you saw before you died.
"We have the daughter." he was saying. "It won't be long before he pays us now."
"And if he doesn't?" asked Tony Hill.
"We threaten to kill her."
"Now just a minute, Hani." said Jeremy Dawkins. "I didn't sign up for that. You said nothing to any of us about murder!"
"I said we threaten to kill her." replied Hani, smiling broadly. "It's just leverage, that's all."
"Are we really having to go to those lengths?" asked George Smith. "After all, we don't actually need his money, do we."
"It's a matter of principle." replied Hani. "No-one backs out on me!"
"At least he doesn't know our identities." said Hill. "Your two stooges are the only people he's seen, aren't they?"
"Yes." replied Hani. "I've always been cautious. I wasn't going to welcome him into this little group of ours until he'd paid up and was committed."
"Good thinking, Hani." replied Dawkins, nodding at the others. "Good thinking."
After Rupert had left, Jonas dialled a private number and spoke to the Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police, giving him chapter and verse of the whole scenario.
"My goodness, Jonas." he said. "You're playing a dangerous game with your daughter directly involved. But I can see the dilemma. Look, we've got twenty four hours before you have to go back to them. I'm going to pass this on to a specialist team. They're called SI-10 and have, probably, the finest team of detectives in the country. You'll hear shortly from Chief Superindendent Gordon Spikings. He runs the operation."
He then called Rupert and told him to expect either a call or a visit.
Dempsey and Harry were looking forward to a quiet evening in and Dempsey was about to light a log fire, when the telephone rang.
"Hello?" she answered.
"Sergeant." said Spikings. "I've just been handed a very tricky case, direct from the Commissioner himself. I want you and Dempsey here, pronto. I'll explain it all then."
"Yes sir." she said, rolling her eyes at Dempsey, who was poised to strike a match. "We're leaving now."
"What gives, honey?" he said, placing the dry match back in its box.
"Orders from on high, apparently." she replied, looking decidely put out. "Oh! And I was so looking forward to curling up with you in front a lovely roaring fire!"
Forty minutes later, they were in Spikings office being briefed.
"Sir." said Harry, after Spikings had finished. "Lady Arabella is a friend of mine, well, ours actually. She and her fiance were at our engagement party. I can't not be involved but, as you know, none of my friends are aware of what I do."
"I guess we can get around that." offered Dempsey. "All your friends know what I do, so they ain't gonna be surprised at you takin' a direct innerest in it with me. I'll just tell anyone who asks, that you're helpin' me."
"Yes, I think that would work now that your friends know you're an engaged couple." agreed Spikings.
"Ok so what's our first move." asked Dempsey.
"We have to try and piece together Lady Arabella's last known moves." suggested Spikings. "Where was she, what was she doing, when was the last anyone spoke to her."
"Our first call has to be with her family, in that case." said Harry. "Oh now wait a minute. We bumped into Rupert, didn't we. He was due to meet Arabella in the Ritz that afternoon."
"Did he say what time?" asked Spikings.
"No Chief, he didn't." replied Dempsey. "But we'd better get hold of him an' find out."
"We know where he lives." said Harry. "Come on Dempsey, we'd better get over there."
They drove over to Chelsea and Rupert's apartment block, noting his surprise at seeing them.
"I know you're a detective James." he said. "And I've been told to expect to be contacted. But how come you're involved in this?"
"I work for SI-10." explained Dempsey." It's a specialist undercover department within Special Branch. But this goes no further, Rupert. I'm only tellin' you this 'cos of your close connection to it all."
"Yes, I understand. But, I'm worried sick for Bella." he replied, close to tears. "If those who have kidnapped her, get the slightest inkling that Jonas has brought the police in, none of us will ever see her again."
"Don't worry 'bout that." replied Dempsey. "Like I said, we're an undercover operation. Only very few within the police themselves even know of our existence."
"And what are you doing here, Harriet?"
"Arabella is my friend, Rupert, as are you." replied Harry. "You honestly don't think I could stand by and watch, do you? James is my fiance and I'm here to help him. His boss has sanctioned it, knowing my personal interest. Don't forget, my family and the Cosgrove-Hartley's go back a long way too."
"Yes, of course Harriet, do forgive me." said Rupert. "And thank you."
"Ok, so when were you due to meet Arabella today?" asked Dempsey, eager to get on with it, now the explanations were out of the way.
"Three-thirty for tea in The Ritz." replied Rupert.
"And what was she doing in town exactly?" asked Harry.
"Shopping." replied Rupert, looking a little embarrassed. "Shopping for, erm...things for our wedding night."
"Ok, so sexy stuff, shortie nightdresses, for instance." suggested Dempsey.
"Actually from what I could make out, she was going for much racier things." remembered Rupert.
"That could mean Soho, then." replied Harry.
"Yeah." agreed Dempsey. "Ok Rupert, sit tight. We'll get into Soho first thing and do some diggin' around. See what we come up with. Just try and stay calm."
Back in the car, Harry suggested that, with no time like the present, they ought to get into Soho and see what they could come up with.
"It's only eight-thirty." she said. "It's Friday, so the shops will still be open. There maybe a shopkeeper who saw something today."
"Yeah, good call, angel." agreed Dempsey. "Could still be fresh in the memory."
Having cruised around for a while they chose a narrow, one way street to start their investigation. Ignoring the double yellow, no parking lines, they left the car and walked along the street, noting it was filled with sex shops selling all manner of erotic offerings.
Strolling into one, they were immediately approached by teenager wearing a black T shirt and black jeans, tattoos all over his arms and rings through his ears. The top of his head was bald, yet he had hair that started just above his ears and fell down to his shoulder blades.
Dempsey flashed his badge at him.
"'Ow can I 'elp yer then copper?" he asked.
"Were you here this afternoon?" asked Dempsey.
"Yeah." came the reply. "I been 'ere since nine this mornin', why?"
"Did you notice anythin' unusual around two-thirty, three o'clcock?"
"Unusual?" he asked. "Like what?"
"A scuffle outside, maybe a car blockin' the way?"
"Come to think of it, yeah." he replied. "I saw nothin' meself, but a girl came in 'ere an' swore anuvver girl had been forced into a car. Big Bentley it were, apparently."
"What time?" asked Harry.
"Erm...let me think." he said, rubbing his bald head. "I'd say 'bout three..ish."
"Did she say any more about what the girl looked like or what colour the car was?"
"Nah, 'cept the car was dark blue." he replied. "Oh, an' it 'ad black windows. She remembered the windows like, 'cos she couldn't see if the girl was bein' attacked or tryin' to fight someone off."
"So what did you do." asked Harry.
"Nuffin lady." he replied shrugging his shoulders. "'Ain't none of my business. Probably been a naughty girl and Daddy come to get 'er. I dunno."
"Ok, thanks pal." said Dempsey, taking Harry's hand as they exited.
"Hey, did you see that kinky stuff in there?" he said, glancing at her.
"Mmm, yes I did." she replied, glancing back at him and smiling. "Naughty wasn't it. I'll know where to come if we ever need to spice up our sex life."
"Huh." he replied, putting his arm round her waist. "Our sex life don't need no spicin' up!"
She giggled and kissed his cheek.
"I guess that's all we can do tonight, princess." he said. "We'll see if Traffic can pick up the car through the road cameras. We might be able to track it's movements and maybe even it's destination."
"That would at least be something." she replied. "God, I hope Arabella is okay. She must be terrified. We have to find her, Dempsey."
"Yeah I know." he said, but something told him it was going to be far from straight forward.