Mickey had never liked ships. And containers at Harwich held equally bad, violent memories for him. But he put that all aside. He had work to do.
Harbour security was minimal as May and his team had driven up to the main gate. May had shown his warrant card and explained that two senior officers had gone missing, believed to have been abducted and placed on board the waiting cargo ship. The two rent-a-cops on the gate had jumped to attention. This was the most action they had ever seen on duty. They allowed the car through with no fuss. May asked them not to contact the ship and, thrilled at being in the presence of real coppers, they agreed.
They had embarked from the cars, stood on the pier. Mist and fog settled on them, dampening their clothes and hair, belabouring their breathing. May turned to his second in command, DS Terry.
‘What’s it say, Philip?’
DS Terry scrutinised a hand-held device, looked around. Converted what he saw on screen to what was in front of him.
‘That ship,’ he said pointing to the one in front of them. ‘Somewhere near the back.’
May nodded. ‘Come on then.’
The walkway was long, raked. The ship, one of several, looked huge against the pier, the cars, the people. A vast metal town. But Mickey was sure it would look tiny once it was out to sea, dwarfed against the waves.
The containers were piled high in the centre of the ship. Multicoloured, uniform and battered, they looked like enormous grubby bricks in some oversized, rusted Lego set.
The six officers arrived onboard and were met by a crew member. Bleary-eyed and unshaven, his eyes darting warily, guiltily about, he looked to Mickey not like a ship’s crewman but more like the kind of guy who operated fairground rides. Mickey never felt comfortable on fairground rides.
May flashed his warrant card once more. ‘The captain around?’
‘Got a warrant?’
‘Don’t need one.’ May pushed past him, made his way to the bridge.
The captain was waiting for them. Face calm but looking warmer than the night air would have suggested.
May explained who he was, why he was there. ‘We have reason to believe two of my officers have been kidnapped and are being held on this ship. We’d like your permission to search.’
‘You need a warrant for that.’
‘Or your co-operation. Probable cause.’
The captain shrugged. ‘We’re preparing to sail on the morning tide. Get a warrant.’ His voice displaying studied disinterest.
May was about to speak, but Mickey stepped in. ‘Listen, mate,’ he said, ‘it’s the middle of the night and we can’t get a warrant until morning, as well you know. During which time you’ll have sailed away and left us to it. Well, we can’t let you do that. We’ll make sure you’re delayed here for as long as necessary. Could take us days to get a warrant. And all the while you’re going nowhere. And losing money. You want that?’
That got his attention. ‘You don’t know who owns this ship.’
‘I do know who owns this ship. And we’re not leaving until we’ve searched it.’
The police officers stood their ground. The captain had no choice but to allow them access. He gave a small, defeated wave.
‘Thank you,’ said May. ‘Now let me see the ship’s manifest.’
The captain reluctantly handed it over.
‘Right.’ May looked at Mickey. ‘You and DC Hepburn take the stern.’
‘That’s the back, right?’ said Anni.
‘Correct.’ He divided up the rest of his team into port and starboard.
‘All the terms,’ said Anni, impressed.
‘Grew up on a narrowboat outside Harlow,’ said May. ‘Right. I’ll take the pointy end. Let’s go.’
Mickey and Anni made their way towards the back of the ship. It was quite bright due to the overhead pier lights, but Mickey still swung a torch left and right. They stood before a stack of containers and looked up. He held the torch on them. They were piled so high, the beam died.
‘Great,’ said Anni. She put her hand on the first one. ‘Let’s start here, shall we?’
She worked the handle, swung the door open. Mickey shone the torch inside. The beam picked out stacked cardboard boxes.
‘Something going outbound,’ he said, then turned to her. ‘Hey, that’s a thought.’
‘What?’
‘Well, it might be worth checking that list—’
‘The manifest,’ said Anni.
‘Yeah,’ said Mickey. ‘I’m betting most of these are going out empty.’
‘Why?’
‘Because we hardly make anything any more. We import. So we check the empty ones first.’
‘Good idea.’
‘Right, let’s—’
A noise from the other side of the container stack. Like someone had been listening, was trying to get away.
Mickey and Anni shared a glance. Mickey gestured with his eyes; Anni nodded. They divided up either side of the container, began to creep round.
Another sound before they had got halfway. Someone moving away quickly.
Mickey sprinted to the corner. A figure was running towards the middle of the ship. Male, tall, well dressed. Suede jacket. He turned back to face them. Mickey recognised him. He had last seen him sitting in the back of a police car in Aldeburgh.
Calling himself Stuart Milton.
‘Come on,’ he shouted to Anni, and gave chase.