“Luke again,” the speaker chirped. The computer is showing that the word ‘print’ can be associated with the word ‘press’ in the next sentence, as in ‘printing press’. This could be code for Dee telling us that the industrial unit houses a printing press.”DCI Coombes and Inspector Boniface whispered to one another before Coombes said in a loud voice, “DS Scott, are you still sitting with the voice analysts at Scotland Yard?”
“Yes, Guv. We can hear and see everything that’s going on.”
“Good. The Inspector and I would like you to run a check on all print companies inside the M25. Don’t bother with print shops, just the ones operating out of industrial premises. Oh, and see if we’ve had any suspicions or reports on any of them.”
“OK, Guv, I’m on it now.”
We all looked at the next section of the transcript, and Tom continued.
“So, we know that Dee thinks that there are at least four men holding them, did everyone see that?” Everyone nodded but me and Don Fisher.
“Run that part again, Levi,” he said, seeing our puzzlement. “Watch her hands.”
Dee had been sitting with her hands in closed fists, and as soon as she said the words “these guys”, she opened her right hand and tucking her thumb underneath tapped the table gently with four fingers.
I didn’t know who was cleverer, Dee for coming up with it, or the detectives in the room who noticed that imperceptible movement. Along with a strong feeling of pride in Dee I also felt a quick stab of pain at the loss, no matter how temporary, of the woman I loved.
***
Things had been going well and everyone was exuding a confidence and bravado that lifted Don Fisher’s spirits and my own, but then they faltered. The clumsy phrasing of Dee’s last sentence obviously meant something, but neither the analysts nor the computer had a reasonable interpretation of what it meant.
They all turned to me. Inspector Boniface voiced the opinion of them all.
“Josh, we think this message is specifically meant for you. She deliberately says:
“If you don’t, you’ll find your next opposition right here.”
I guessed that they were right, but other than the obvious meaning that the kidnappers would be my opponents if I didn’t persuade the police, I couldn’t see what else it could be.
“Luke again. The computer has these suggestions for ‘your next opposition’. First a political opposition, which given the fact that he is a Labour Peer seems most likely. Second a sporting opposition, an individual or team attempting to overcome you.”
How could I have been so dense? I put it down to tiredness and stress. A light went on in my brain, and suddenly I knew what it meant.
“Thanks, Luke. Sporting opposition is exactly what it means. Today at West Ham, Dee and I watched as they lost to Chelsea. West Ham have now gone four games without a point, so everyone was saying we must win our next home match, where the opposition is Tottenham Hotspur.”
***
It was now nearly two in the morning, and computers were working overtime, looking for printing companies in the vicinity of Tottenham. There were six possibilities and so Levi typed in the first address provided by DS Scott from Scotland Yard.
Up on the video came a satellite view from Google. Levi dragged a little man figure onto the road in front of the printing press. Immediately a picture looking down the road appeared. Levi clicked on an arrow and the view was to our right.
There in the middle of the picture was a 1930’s single storey brick building bearing the sign, Norman Betteridge, Printer and Binder. This was clearly not our building.
Levi carried out the same routine for all six addresses. We were left with two possibilities. Offset Litho (Tottenham) Ltd on Brantwood Road, and Tottenham Press (2005) Ltd, on Commercial Road.
Offset Litho was a two story flat roofed building with offices at the front and the factory space behind. Tottenham Press was a big shed with a pitched roof.
Something had been niggling at me for an hour and I couldn’t bring it to the front of my mind. I flicked through the video stills again, in case I had missed something important. I was about to put to one side the first picture of the masked man facing the camera when I saw something that took me back a couple of years. In the background, just behind the man, I could make out a column of what seemed to me to be yellow steel. They were quite clearly inside a yellow steel framed building.
In 2008 I had been called to a fire where a mini industrial unit had burned down. The site was a tangle of cladding insulation and twisted yellow steel. The insurer paid for the rebuild, which I certified at each month end as the work proceeded. The original steel contractor had been employed to rebuild the frame. The company were called Conder Structures, if I was remembering correctly, and their director told me that three of the major steel suppliers used their own patented colours; blue, green and yellow respectively. Most other contractors’ steel was usually primed with red or grey. The interesting point as far as I was concerned was that Conder specialised in portal frames because they provided greater strength with less steel and gave a completely free floor area with no columns. A portal frame building would typically also have pitched roof.
I quickly explained to the weary team my theory and preference for Tottenham Press being the kidnappers’ hideout. No-one disputed my analysis, but just to be sure the Metropolitan Police asked a local car to drive by both premises and look for signs of life. Tottenham Police Station obliged, and promised to call back in fifteen minutes.
DCI Coombes’ mobile phone rang and he answered it. He grabbed a pen, making notes on a pad in front of him.
“Thanks for that, Sergeant. That might just be the information that tips the balance.”
He set down his phone and spoke to Inspector Boniface, speaking loudly enough for us all to hear.
“Have you heard of the Holloway family?”
“Yes. We caught one of their teams unloading a dozen Chinese illegals at one of the big office blocks in the City, but the Chinese wouldn’t talk to us and so they were deported and a couple of Holloway’s boys went to prison for acting as gang masters to illegal immigrants. Neither of them would say a word about Pops or Sonny, though.”
DCI Coombes turned to the rest of us.
“Alfred Clement Holloway is in his sixties now but he’s been a villain all of his life. We’ve linked him with stolen goods, drug trafficking, human trafficking and prostitution but so far he’s always managed to get away with short sentences, having pleaded guilty to the minor offences, knowing witnesses wouldn’t come forward. For the last twenty years he has been known as Pops Holloway, as a sign of respect and because his son Adam Alfred Holloway, joined the family business.”
This was all very interesting, but I couldn’t see where this was taking us. Coombes was still talking.
“Pops Holloway was a Director of Tottenham Press when it went bust in 2005. He was disqualified as a director for ten years because Companies House thinks he deliberately siphoned off creditors’ money before he went into administration. He still owns the lease, and his son is one of the directors.
DS Scott says that the Fraud Squad think that it was Holloways that printed all of the fake tickets for that Diva concert at the O2 Arena last year. Almost half the tickets were fakes, but the gate staff couldn’t tell them apart. We had fifty officers there breaking up fights between fans who had booked the same seats as others.”
Vastrick was in conference with the two police officers, who were trying to decide if we had enough certainty to mount a raid on Tottenham Press. The phone rang and Vastrick put it on speaker.
“DCI Coombes, this is Sergeant Hall at Tottenham. We did a drive by, and Offset Litho is dark and quiet. Tottenham Press is showing a narrow strip of light under the roller shutter door, which is odd.”