Page 57 of Ticket Out

“Were you there, or weren’t you?”

It sounded to Gabriella as if one of them climbed into the back. “He’s breathing,” Fred said, voice considerably lighter. “Let’s find out who he is—” His voice cut off. “Fuck me. He’s a copper.”

There was sudden silence.

Gabriella crouched low and risked peering around the corner. It was almost fully dark now, and it was hard to see the two men, but from their tone, they were clearly unhappy.

“The boss’ll want to know about this.”

“The copper ain’t seen our faces. Let’s keep it that way. If we have to dump him somewhere, no harm done.” Fred sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

“You think a copper’ll think it’s no harm done to be knocked out and then dumped somewhere?” The other man didn’t bother to hide his skepticism.

“Well, he won’t be able to point the finger at us, not if we keep shtum.” Fred jumped down from the back of the van and its axle creaked. “Let’s get him into the office and go find a phone box to call the boss.”

Gabriella waited while they pulled James Archer out of the van and carried him inside.

The warehouse was near the Thames. She could hear the river and the water traffic nearby. The whole place smelled of creosote and diesel, and when she lifted the hand she had pressed against the wall, it came away smudged with black dust.

No one appeared to be around, and she could just make out a chain-link fence and an open gate to the right.

They certainly hadn’t stopped to open a gate when they’d driven in, and hopefully they’d leave it open when they left.

She’d been waiting less than ten minutes when the two men came out of the building, arguing in low voices. They climbed into the van and started it up, turning it in a tight circle to leave the way they’d come.

Gabriella crouched down, out of sight, and the moment the van turned left and its lights disappeared, she was up and running to the entrance.

The door was shut but not locked. She opened it cautiously and found herself in a large, dark space. The warehouse was unlit and the smell of diesel and dust was even more pronounced inside.

She opened the entrance door wide to let in what little ambient light from the city there was, and as her eyes adjusted she made out a small office to one side.

As she approached it, she saw it was made of ill-fitting wooden planks. It had a door set in the middle and a small window on one side, almost as if they’d bought a garden shed and plonked it down inside the warehouse.

They probably had.

The door to it was locked, but she had the screwdriver and the hammer, and she used the screwdriver to lever the door open.

It was made of cheap wood that cracked and buckled easily after a bit of pressure. If her hand hadn’t been hurting so much, she would have been able to jimmy it even quicker.

She shoved at the door, forcing it open with a groan, and although she could see nothing within, she heard the sound of someone breathing.

“DS Archer?” she whispered. “It’s Gabriella Farnsworth.”

“Gabriella?” His voice was rough and sluggish.

The sound of his voice helped her find him, and she crouched down beside him. He was tied hand and foot, and when she touched his face, she realized he was blindfolded as well, the material tight across his eyes.

“Turn your head,” she told him, then got to work on the knot at the back. It was too tight for her, though, especially with her damaged hand.

It would take her ages to get this off him.

She suddenly wanted to cry in frustration and worry. She stopped, lifting her head and closing her eyes, determined not to shed a tear. She took a deep breath through her nose.

“Hang on.” She had made out the shape of a desk when she’d forced her way in, and she got up and opened a drawer, but with no light, it was useless. She couldn’t see anything.

She’d have to risk finding a light switch.

She went back to the door she’d jimmied open and felt around for a switch. She breathed out in relief when she found one. The light that flickered to life was weak, but it was all she needed.

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