Page 40 of Savage Justice

“Some art guy. Buys and sells paintings.”

“How do you know him?” Bairstow doesn’t look the artsy type to me. I doubt he and Borys move in the same circles.

“He came to me. I was recommended. I do a good job and no questions asked.”

“Indeed? And what did he want doing, no questions asked?”

“It was a simple track and trace. Find his ex-girlfriend who ran off with his kid.”

“Okay. And then?”

“What do you mean?”

“Once you found her, what then?”

“Just tell him where she was. That’s what I did.”

“Is it? Is that all?”

“Yes. I swear…”

Fucking moron. Has he forgotten we were actually there?

Tony and I exchange a glance, and Tony stamps on his right leg again.

We wait until Bairstow ceases his screaming, then I resume the questioning.

“Shall we forget the bullshit and cut to the bit where you snatch a ten-year-old girl off the street and throw her in the back of your van. What was that about?”

“Nothing,” he gasps. “I never meant no harm. I was going to let her go.”

“Really?”

“Yes. After a day or so…”

“And what would have happened to her during that day or so? If we hadn’t turned up and wrecked your plans?”

He has the audacity to look outraged. “What do you take me for? Some sort of kiddie fiddler?”

Is he fucking serious? “Well, since you mention it…”

“I’m not like that! I would never…”

“You’re a fucking liar. A dirty old nonce. You expect us to believe you were only going to treat her to jelly and biscuits and let her go after a couple of days? She’d seen you. She would have told the police, given a description. Her DNA was all over your fucking van. The police would have been onto you faster than you can say ‘Rolf Harris’. You were really going to let all that happen?”

“I’d have got rid of the van,” he mutters.

“You drove her into the fucking industrial estate,” Tony growls. “Lonely place, no witnesses.”

“I didn’t want anyone finding her.”

“No. I bet you didn’t.” Tony settles the weight of his foot on the plaster cast again, then grimaces at the ear-splitting screech. “What were you really going to do?” he asks, once the din subsides again. “And cut the crap. We’re getting bored.”

“It was to be a swap.” Bairstow whimpers. “The kid for the baby. That bitch could have her girl back if she gave Borys his son.”

I nod and meet Tony’s gaze. Now we’re getting to it. As we thought, a hostage.

“She would have been terrified,” I inform him softly. “Her mother would have been distraught. She’d probably have gone to the police in any case.”

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