‘We have a problem, boss. The new guy. He was seen in the wrong company last night. We’ve got him at the warehouse.’
Before van Ossen could reply, Anneka – having seen her father’s lack of concentration – furiously gunned Mustang at some poles that were far too big for him. The pony very sensibly jinked at the last moment and ducked out to the right. Anneka, however, failed to anticipate Mustang’s jink and flew out of the saddle. She hit the poles as she flew through the air, and then landed on the deck like a rag doll.
Van Ossen vaulted over the plastic rails and ran, heart in his mouth, to Anneka. Her instructor was already leaning over her. She was winded, and struggling for breath. The instructor was trying to loosen her body protector, but van Ossen pushed him out of the way.
‘Idiot! Why did you let that happen?’ van Ossen raged as he fell to his knees. His hands were shaking as he fumbled with her zip. ‘What have you done to her?’
The instructor was speechless with terror. Van Ossen’s eyes were bulging out of his crimson face.
‘If anything has happened to her …’
Anneka started gasping for air and groaning. The instructor could see she was fine, but he didn’t dare do or say anything.
‘That was your fault,’ Anneka finally said as she got her breath back. ‘If you’d been watching properly, it wouldn’t have happened.’
‘I’m so sorry, my baby. I’m so sorry.’
Van Ossen picked up Anneka and cradled her in his arms. Mustang had been caught by the instructor, but van Ossen didn’t once glance towards them. He carried Anneka towards the car. She could have perfectly easily walked, but she was enjoying being the priority.
No sooner had van Ossen dropped Anneka at home than he was on his way out again. Anneka promptly burst into tears – her mother’s sympathy wasn’t anything like as satisfactory as her father’s – and only calmed down when van Ossen promised he’d be back within the hour.
When he got to the warehouse, he was still steaming. How close had Anneka come to cracking her head on the wooden poles? Would the crash helmet have saved her? Why had the instructor left the jump in place? Van Ossen felt sick as he mulled over the near miss.
The ‘new man’ had worked for van Ossen for three months. He wasn’t one of the back-door army recruits but a drop-out from the police academy. Right now, he was a mess. His arms and legs were secured to the metal chair he was sitting on by leather straps. His face was swollen from the beating Piek and Fransen had enjoyed handing out.
‘Who was he with?’ van Ossen asked, expecting the answer to be the police.
‘He was in the Dice Club. We watched him with them for a couple of hours.’
For the second time that morning, van Ossen could feel the blood pumping to the back of his head. Anger raged inside him. How had he been taken in?
‘Who put you into us?’ he asked the terrified traitor. ‘Those Dice scum?’
‘No one, boss. I was trying to get some information from them.’
That was when van Ossen snapped. This episode had nearly claimed his daughter’s life. And someone was going to pay.
‘I HAVEN’T GOT TIME FOR THIS. I SHOULD BE WITH MY DAUGHTER. NOT HERE WASTING MY TIME.’
His eyes scanned the room for the metal bolt cutters, his preferred instrument of torture.
The traitor tried to broker a deal. ‘I can infiltrate them for you,’ he desperately babbled.
One glance at the boss’s face and Fransen knew what was coming next. He grabbed the traitor’s hand and pulled the thumb out as far as it would go. Van Ossen rammed the blades of the bolt cutter either side of the man’s thumb, and slammed them shut with a vengeance.
The ex-police cadet screamed his head off as his thumb was crushed. The bolt cutters failed to cut cleanly, so the severed thumb hung by a thread of skin. Blood spurted across Fransen’s face, and then gushed on to the floor. Then the traitor passed out.
‘I haven’t got time for this,’ van Ossen said impatiently. ‘Finish it off. Bring him round and cut his fingers off one by one. Let him bleed to death. Then dump him somewhere his friends will find him. Every finger,’ van Ossen screamed over his shoulder as he left the warehouse.
Anneka was playing in the garden when he got home. She’d built herself a jumping course using her mother’s best cushions. And she was now pretending to jump them on Mustang. The whole lot would have to go to the dry cleaners tomorrow.
‘First prize,’ announced Wevers van Ossen, striding on to the lawn, ‘is a big tub of ice cream.’ And he presented Anneka with the chocolate ice cream that he’d bought on the way home.
‘What about Mustang?’ Anneka demanded. Before he could be chastised again, Wevers dashed back into the kitchen to get some sugar lumps.
Her fall had rattled him. He was going to have to do something about that instructor.
Farnborough, Hants
Pete Carr worked out of a discreet industrial unit in Farnborough. The board listing the companies at the end of the road was full of electronic and aviation small businesses. But there was a blank next to Unit 46.
Max knocked and waited. A square of glass set in the door looked on to a narrow staircase. The place appeared to be empty. After a couple of minutes, a pair of feet descended the stairs. The door was unlocked and opened.
‘Carr?’ said Max.
‘Pete, please. Sorry about the delay,’ Carr said jovially. ‘Only me here this morning. Stuck on the phone. The boys are working on a tricky one. Someone’s nanny’s been a bit naughty. They’re out wiring up the kids’ schoolbags.’
Pete Carr didn’t mind what sort of business he took on as long as it paid. He sailed close to the wind. Broke the law, provided the client made it worth his while. Sometimes it was surprising who was prepared to sub-contract out illegal jobs. Governments, lawyers, even the police.
Max smiled. He liked him immediately. Carr was someone who clearly loved his job.
‘Come on through, mate. Coffee? Tea?’
‘Tea would be great, Pete. Thanks.’
Max followed him through to the back room. Got him talking.
‘Had a close shave yesterday,’ said Pete as he made the tea. ‘I was bugging a finance director’s computer – commissioned by his CEO. Wasn’t sure what he was up to. Anyway, bugger me, the bloke walks into his office as I’m halfway through the job.’
‘Trouble?’
‘Nah. Told him I was working on the IT system. So you’re one of Tryon’s spooks?’
‘Tryon?
