Michael went on: ‘If I could only know for certain that she was alive, Declan, I would feel so much better. I can’t bear to think that she might be frightened, you know? Scared and alone somewhere, and wondering why I haven’t rescued her.’
Declan was very blasé as he said honestly, ‘I’m sorry, Michael, but it would take a lot to scare your Jessie. She isn’t what anyone would call a shrinking violet, is she? Jessie Flynn is a woman who lives her own life. Fuck me – if you can’t control her, how the fuck could anyone else?’
Michael didn’t laugh with Declan this time; he appreciated his friend was just trying to allay his fears, but no one could do that now.
‘I’m not so sure about that, Declan. She isn’t as hard-faced as she acts. There is a softness there that few people ever see. She would ring her mum almost every day, because she knew that she worries about her. She also asks about Jake, of course. She loves that little boy, I know that for a fact.’
Declan wasn’t so sure Jessie was this sweet young thing her father was describing, but if that was what Michael wanted to believe, he was happy to go along with it. In his opinion, Jessie Flynn was a selfish little fucker, who never had the sense to see how fucking lucky she was, and who had never appreciated just how loved and adored she was. She was a user, and she had used everyone around her. But Declan was shrewd enough to keep his own counsel; there were some things you couldn’t tell people – they just didn’t want to hear them.
‘Well, Michael, you know her better than anyone, mate.’
Michael’s phone vibrated and he picked it up, opening the text message. He was shocked to see a picture of his Jessie. She was shackled to a bed, looking ill and very frightened.
‘Oh, my God.’
He passed the phone to Declan, who looked at the picture with abject horror. Jessie looked terrified, and she also looked like she was starving. He could see her ribcage in startling detail. He zoomed in so he could see the picture better, and he could see that her ankles were rubbed raw from the iron shackles. It looked as if the bones were exposed, and there were faeces on the floor around the bed. It was a wicked, vicious picture sent to cause the maximum of hurt.
It was her eyes, though, that really bothered him. They were looking right into the camera, and there was no life in them. They were already dead. He was so shocked, he couldn’t speak for a few minutes.
Michael had crossed his arms over his chest and he was hugging himself. As he rocked himself to and fro, Declan was shocked to realise that the man was openly crying. Michael Flynn was sobbing like a baby; it was terrible to see him brought so low.
Declan forced himself into action. He picked up his phone and he rang a man called Arthur Hellmann. He was a technological wizard, and he had worked for everyone who was anyone. He also had a serious gambling habit, and he had owed money all over the Smoke. It had been Michael’s idea to pay his debts off and get him into the firm. Now Declan hoped the man could use his expertise to track down the mobile phone Golding was using. It was clutching at straws, but it was all they had. Michael Flynn needed to feel like he was doing something, now more than ever. That image of young Jessie had achieved its goal; it was further proof that they didn’t have any control over this situation whatsoever.
When he came off the phone, he looked at Michael sadly. ‘I’m going to up the security at your house, Michael. I think this proves we can’t take any chances.’
Michael nodded. ‘Put them inside the house. I’ll ring Dana, make sure that she doesn’t even take Jake to school. Until this is over, we daren’t chance anything.’ Michael looked at the photo of his daughter again. ‘She’s fucking terrified, you can see it in her eyes. How in fuck’s name has this happened? How the fuck has this mad cunt managed to get this far?’
Declan shrugged; he was genuinely disturbed himself now. This was well outside their usual remit. Until now, he would have bet his last penny that a situation like this would have been an impossibility. They were too big, too well known. But Declan knew, from bitter experience, that the greatest of threats nearly always came from the people you least expected.
Chapter One Hundred