Dead Man's Gift 01 - Yesterday Read Online Free PDF Page B

Michelle were very close. And do it for Max, too. Please. He’s only seven years old and they’ve got him strapped to a bed in some filthy, dark room. They’ll kill him, Scope, without your help. I know they will …’
    It was shameless emotional blackmail, but Scope let it go. He sighed. ‘I can’t guarantee anything, but I’ll see what I can do.’
    ‘We haven’t got much time.’
    ‘I’ll start work right now, and I’ll contact you by text when I can. If you get any more information, make sure you contact me.’
    Tim nodded, pressing another button on the phone. ‘Thank you, Scope. I owe you for this. If all goes well …’
    ‘If all goes well, you’ll forget me in an instant. Look, I don’t want your gratitude. Now get back to Diane before anyone wonders where you are.’
    Scope watched as Tim ran up the quiet, tree-lined street, past all the big, rich people’s houses in the direction of his own, before disappearing from view. He checked his phone. Tim had sent him an address in north London, a good hour away, along with a photo of a woman in her mid to late twenties with straight peroxide blonde hair, and a knowing expression in her big blue eyes. Putting the phone down, he turned the car round and pulled away.
    It was already 8.30 p.m. and it looked as though it was going to be a long night.

8
    The girl, identified by Tim Horton as Orla Reilly, didn’t show up anywhere on the net when Scope googled her name. There were plenty of Orla Reillys on Facebook and LinkedIn, and all those other places where individuals advertised their presence to anyone who cared to look for them, but none who matched the photo. This didn’t necessarily mean anything, of course, but it roused Scope’s suspicions.
    The address he’d been given for her was a flat in one of a row of tall, slightly rundown 1960s townhouses across a main road from an estate of even more rundown tower blocks, somewhere on the border of Stonebridge and Harlesden. Traffic was light, but there was nowhere to stop on the road so Scope continued past, seeing lights on every floor inside the house he wanted. He found a parking spot two roads down and got out of the car, memorizing the location. The night was cold and it had started to rain steadily, keeping people off the streets, which suited Scope well enough. Slipping on a pair of gloves, he pulled up the collar on his jacket and started walking.
    From the width of the house, he guessed there was only one flat per floor. Orla lived in Flat B, which was unlikely to be at ground level. It was a pity he couldn’t ask Tim, but that was the problem he had now. He was operating alone, and with very little information. He’d already decided not to try to get into Orla’s flat by ringing the bell. There was no way she’d let him in at this time of night, and it risked alerting the kidnappers to his presence. His plan was to break in, search the place for clues if she was out, question her if she was in. Which led to his second problem. How to make her talk, then keep her from contacting anyone once he’d got the information he needed – if, indeed, she had it in the first place.
    He shook his head. The whole thing was a mess, and one that could very easily come back and bite him on the arse. He felt a flicker of doubt about what he was doing, then pictured Max as a two-year-old with Diane, a laughing, doting mother, and his wife’s sister, who’d genuinely seemed pleased to see Scope when he’d turned up on their doorstep all those years ago. Whichever way he cared to look at it, they were still family. If he could help them, he would.
    The house’s front door faced directly on to the street, with the buzzers for the three flats next to it. It looked like the original door, as well – old-fashioned plywood and not particularly sturdy, with just one lock. Scope had learned his housebreaking skills from an ex-soldier friend of his who’d left the army to become a locksmith. He’d broken into