The Hard Way Duncan Brockwell (romance book recommendations .TXT) 📖

picked up her phone again, found the detective’s number and called.

“Yeah, it’s me. I didn’t feel safe at home last night, so I phoned Sam and told him to take the girls to a hotel for a couple of nights… No, he doesn’t know what’s going on… Sure, I’ll meet you outside Neelkanth Safe Deposit… Uh-huh… Please try to find Richard. He’s in a bad place right now, I know it. I can feel it… If we don’t get him out soon, I’m afraid we might never get him out. Thank you so much. When you find him, call me, okay? I’ll see you outside Neelkanth, half three. Yeah, bringing backup might be a good idea. They could be anywhere. See you later, and thanks for your help. I really do appreciate it.”

Knowing the detectives were on the case felt better. Without their help, she might never see Richard again. The charges were bullshit; they had to be. The elusive enemy were doing a good job of burying the product, but she wasn’t about to let that happen.

The first thing she had to do: find out where she was. Then, she would drive to a service station somewhere, pick up some breakfast, go to the loo. Charlotte was counting down the minutes until she opened the safe.

61

Hayes held out her hand, as Inspector Gillan handed her two files, one for each of their suspects in custody. Her supervisor grabbed the nearest chair to him and wheeled it over to her. She took the top file and flipped it open. “Brendan Marlowe. Born March 31st 1986.” She read the boring general information about him, noting the photo on his record was an arrest picture. When she turned the page over, large swathes of writing were blanked out.

“This looks like a special forces job if you ask me. It seems our suspects might have extensive military backgrounds.”

Turning her attention to the main doors, she noticed Miller rush in, flustered, flapping. When her partner reached her desk, she apologised for being late, mouthed that she would explain later, and went about getting her things together.

Hayes held out the second file. “Here, take a look through this for me. We now know our suspects are ex-special forces.”

Miller pulled a face that told her she didn’t believe it. “Those guys? Not a chance. They’re both dumb as a post; there’s no way they’re special forces. Do you think we’d be able to take them down just like that?”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say, Miller, but we did. Look, the insignia on top of the form’s blacked out, but I can tell you what it says. ‘By Strength and Guile’, and below it reads, ‘Special Boat Service’.”

Reaching over, Miller took the file. “I don’t believe it! He’s in the SBS? That’s ridiculous. But we took him down so easily.”

“He is ex-special forces. Maybe he wasn’t very good?”

Gillan got up. “My guess is, he’s into something altogether different now. Special forces don’t have their files redacted, as a rule. No, someone else has reached out and requested this. I think it’s time to go talk to your guys, what do you say?”

“Wait! What’ve you got in that other file, Miller?” Hayes waited for her partner.

“Jason Nye, born January 16th 1988,” Miller read. “Grew up all over the place by the look of it. His dad was in the marines. He grew up with four brothers; he was the youngest.” She turned the page, stopped, and turned the folder around so she could read the writing.

“I’m sorry! I don’t know what that’s supposed to say.” Hayes shrugged.

“Look closely, you’ll be able to read it.”

“I can read the numbers 63, and UKSF, but that’s it. Sorry!”

“This guy was a member of the 63 Signal Squadron,” Gillan clarified. When she shrugged again, he continued. “Signal Squadron are the top of the top in communications, far in advance of the army. That means he knows his way around comms.”

“So? Why is that important?” Hayes looked to Gillan for guidance, feeling stupid for not knowing. But why should she? She wasn’t ex-army. “Please help me fill in the blanks here. Don’t make me beg.”

“There’s no earthly reason why these two should be together, okay? The SAS, the SBS, Signal Squadron, they’re all part of Special Forces. But they hate each other. An SAS guy would like to think they would eat an SBS guy for breakfast, right? Do you get it? They assist one another on the surface; deep down they loathe each other.”

“Exactly, like they tried to tear into each other in the back of our car.” Hayes thought back to the previous night. “So, why were they tailing us together in the van, then?”

“That’s the million-dollar question,” Gillan said, hurrying them to follow him. “Travis, I’m helping Hayes and Miller in an interview.”

Following Gillan and Miller into the interview room, the first thing Hayes noticed was how handsome he was in the daylight. She hadn’t even noticed the previous night. Brendan Marlowe was a looker, with a head full of dark hair, a strong chin, and all over stubble. He looked like he worked out. She closed the door behind her.

“It’s about bloody time! What the hell are you lot waiting for?” Handcuffed to the table, which in turn was screwed to the floor, Hayes and Gillan were taking no chances with him. “I’ve already told you I’m ready to deal. What more do you want?”

“You’re SBS, yes?” Miller sat on a chair opposite him.

Marlowe smiled. “You’ve read my file, huh? I mean, what you can read of it. I should imagine that’s not a lot.”

Hayes stood at the back of the room, observing. She wanted to give Miller the chance to lead for once. “Just answer the questions, okay?”

“Yes, I’m ex-SBS.” He rolled his eyes. “Look, the longer you keep me here, the more likely they’re going to send someone in to execute me. You need to get me into witness protection, or something.”

“Answer me this,