The Dark Web Murders

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Thursday, 23rd August. Early afternoon 

As they sped along the Newtownards Road on the way to the Royal Courts of Justice, Sheehan's inner agitation was plain. He stared silently through the windscreen, his expression intent, his eyes unseeing. Stewart, who was driving, glanced at him a couple of times. If she was harbouring any notion of questioning her superior about what was troubling him, the tautness of his demeanour made it clear that now was not a good time to interrupt his train of thought. 

Sheehan's cell phone sounded in his pocket. His expression didn't change, nor apparently did his train of thought, as he reached absently for the phone and brought it to his mouth. "Sheehan," he muttered, still fixated on the ideas that were charging through his head. 

"Jim?" Margaret's voice was high-pitched and sounded stressed. 

Sheehan became instantly alert. In the millisecond he had heard that single, quavering syllable, he became instantly aware that his wife was in trouble, serious trouble.

 "Margaret?" His own voice mirrored the anxiety in his wife's. "What is it?"  

"Jim." Margaret was tearful. "There's a man wearing a balaclava here,holding a gun to my head. You are to tell me exactly where you are or he will shoot me." 

"Jesus!" The violence of Sheehan's exclamation caused Stewart to swerve, almost colliding with the car alongside her. "We're on the Newtownards Road heading for the Court Buildings."

 Another voice came on to the line, obviously disguised. "Very good, Chief Inspector. Now listen carefully. Keep your phone open, instruct your sergeant to park the car, and phone your home landline on her own cell phone. If she has not made the call within fifteen seconds, I will shoot your wife without compunction,and leave." 

Sheehan's voice was almost a hysterical croak as he barked a command, "Stop driving, Stewart. Park here." 

Not knowing what was happening, Stewart hesitated. "Sir...?"

 "Now, for fuck's sake, Stewart. Stop!! You have ... eight seconds to phone my home number or Margaret dies." 

Despite having no idea what was happening, Stewart could see that her boss was terrified. With commendable composure, she obeyed his instructions. Taking barely a second to park and knock the car out of gear, she hurriedly searched her jacket pockets for her smartphone. 

As Sheehan shouted the numbers to her, the disguised voice sounded in his ear, emotionless, implacable. "Four seconds." 

"Wait! Wait!" Sheehan cried. "She's dialling. She's dialling." 

His breath stuck in his throat as he waited for what seemed interminable minutes before he heard, distant but clear on his own phone, the sound of his home phone ringing. This was followed immediately by, "Excellent,Chief Inspector, you made it with a second to spare. Please excuse me, the other phone is ringing. I must answer it. But do not attempt for one  hang up on this call." The menace in the voice was unmistakable. 

He watched, his stomach muscles rigid with anxiety, as Stewart listened to inaudible instructions on her phone. Suddenly her lips tightened and, lowering the window beside her, she threw her phone out into the speeding traffic. Sheehan was shocked. "What the hell, Stewart...?" 

The voice came back to him. "We can't have your sergeant using her smartphone to contact anyone, Chief Inspector, nor indeed, can we have anyone using the GPS on her phone to track your whereabouts." There was a brief pause, during which Sheehan struggled to regain some control. Panic was not going to contribute anything useful. Then came the rasping voice again."Now, Chief Inspector, do you know who I am?"