Fetch Them Home: Drew Parker, #2

By Colin Mardell

Drew Parker's adoptive 15-year-old daughter Cassie and her friend have been kidnapped on a Canadian road trip. It may be a straightforward criminal abduction for ransom but as the body count mounts, it seems law enforcement agencies might not want Parker's rescue attempts to succeed and that other nefarious motives

are in play.

The sequel to 'Keep Her Safe', the first thriller featuring the former Delta Force operator turned close body protection officer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: APS Publications
• Release date: Mar 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215841419

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Copyright ©2023 Colin Mardell

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Colin Mardell has asserted his right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988

First published worldwide by APS Books in 2023

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

GLOSSARY

ELLIS FAMILY TREE

PROLOGUE

Early July - Bocharov Ruchey, a government dacha on the Black Sea, Sochi, Russia

The sixty-seven-year-old man waited to be escorted into a room to meet with a good friend and business partner, someone whom he’d worked with, shared ambitions and plans with, since their early acquaintance in the late 1990s but he was terrified. He hadn’t been offered a seat, and although there were several around the room, it hadn’t occurred to him that it would be right to take one. The frightened man hadn’t done anything wrong, or at least he didn’t think so, but someone whom he’d vouched for and placed trust in had let them down. It wasn’t the first time and there would be consequences.

He’d silently waited in the outer room for ninety minutes, accompanied only by two of his host’s personal security guards and a woman he recognized as an assistant. The expressionless secretary had contemptuously glanced up at him at him just the once and then ignored him, but the guards just stood impassively and silently watching him.

The silence was broken at last when a quiet buzzer sounded on the woman’s desk, she looked up and nodded to one of the guards.

We can go in now, Mr. Turgenev, he said.

He’d been meticulously searched for weapons when he arrived earlier, and had been accompanied ever since; nonetheless he fully expected to be searched again and was surprised when it didn’t happen.

The door was opened for him and Turgenev apprehensively stepped through followed by both guards.

His host stood up, they came together and hugged as they always had, but Turgenev sensed a detachment in his friend that hadn’t been there before.

Dmitri, old friend, it’s been too long, we should get together more often. How are you?

I’m well thank you, Vladimir. Getting older like the rest of us.

Putin nodded, sat back in his chair, and patted Pasha, the Illyrian Shepherd Dog, presented to him by the Serbian President in 2019.

Please sit-down, Dmitri. You make me feel uncomfortable standing there. He indicated the chair directly in front of the desk - not a position intended to make anyone feel at ease. Putin’s smile was belied by the cold steely stare of his eyes. Tell me how things have been progressing with you.

Generally, very encouraging, Vladimir; most of our investments are paying well, as you’ve no doubt seen from my reports.

I agree the overall picture is very pleasing, there’s just that one problematic asset that’s still not performing to expectations despite being provided with additional funds.

It is disappointing, Vladimir, I agree.

But didn’t you guarantee a return in terms of long-term industrial and military advantage? I’m disappointed that it hasn’t materialized.

It was an audacious plan, Vladimir. There were always going to be risks.

Risks that you undertook to underwrite, Dmitri. It’s been more than three years now and we still see no prospect of the things you promised. This Stamelis has been a big disappointment. I was wondering how you propose to deal with that. I remind you that he was given his opportunity on your recommendation in the first place.

Initially his conventional strategies paid very well; both the ship construction and the military software investments did very well indeed.

But having sold the ship building assets to enable him to buy into the software company, he then lost control of everything he’d gained, resulting in a huge deficit. That’s a loss that so far he hasn’t recouped.

That was a catastrophe, Vladimir, I agree, and I know he regrets it as much as we do.

In the meantime, he is still indulging himself with extravagant personal purchases. I’ve seen that only last month he bought yet another Greek Island villa costing five million dollars.

He sees that as a dependable investment.

But what about the things that you and he promised?

Turgenev was sweating by this time. I spoke to him about it on Monday. He says that he has a proposal that will bear the fruit that we’ve hoped for all along, and more.

Explain this proposal Dmitri.

Turgenev spent the next half an hour outlining the plan.

It sounds very similar to the first two plans.

In some ways it is, except for one crucial refinement.

Tell me.

Both previous plans have fallen because of unexpected interventions by bodyguards who weren’t expected to be where they were. On this occasion, the plan is specifically engineered to ensure that the bodyguard is nowhere near where he can intervene.

‘A bodyguard? Are you saying there is only one?"

On the first occasion he returned unexpectedly from a trip abroad and by chance just happened across the abduction in progress. That man has been eliminated. On the second occasion, at the last minute, the target unexpectedly insisted on the inclusion of her own bodyguard in the abduction team that had been introduced into the household. Unfortunately, the new man somehow discovered that the team had been infiltrated by us and succeeded in eliminating our people.

How many were on the team?

Seven - four of them were working for us.

"This new man, is he now out of the picture?"

Unfortunately not, but the plan eliminates any possible intervention by him.

Explain.

Outlining the aspect of the plan that eliminated the bodyguard from intervention, Turgenev carefully watched Putin for reaction. There was none.

Hmm. Putin thought for a moment, What's so special about this bodyguard?

Nothing really, he’s just another ex-special forces soldier who happened to be in the right place at the right time.

"As I see it Dmitri, this Stamelis has taken our money, lived a life of plenty on it for more than twenty years, taken our goodwill and trust for granted, and in a vain attempt to gain favor, gambled it away on a series of poorly planned and dismally executed operations. I’m disappointed in you Dmitri for being so tolerant with this man. As I see it now he leaves us with two options; either we end this now and recover our investment as we’ve done in other cases of disappointment; alternatively we allow this latest plan to go ahead and hope that he finally succeeds. I’ll leave the choice up to you."

Under no illusions that whatever choice he made, Turgenev knew any costs or losses would ultimately fall on him to make good, and also that, whatever the outcome, Stamelis days on Earth were numbered, possibly his own too should Russia be exposed as part of the conspiracy. He led a life of freedom, luxury, and privilege that most Russian citizens could only dream of. If he had to cover Stamelis’ losses now he could lose all that; his only chance now was for his protege to succeed.

"I believe this latest plan has a very strong chance of success, Vladimir; I think we should allow him to proceed. Of course I will cover any costs incurred that Stamelis doesn’t cover himself.

Very well, Dmitri. It’s been good to catch up. Perhaps when this business is concluded you can visit me in the Kremlin and you can tell me how it went. Grigoriy will show you out.

Turgenev was unceremoniously hustled out of the building and into the back of the car that brought him, with the phrase, ‘I’m disappointed in you, Dmitri’ still ringing in his ears.

Late October - HM Prison Grendon, Buckinghamshire, England

Mr. Ellis, a pleasure to meet you. I hope you’re well, said the visitor, speaking in an unfamiliar accent.

Who the fuck are you, and why are you here? They told me you were a lawyer, but I didn’t ask for one and I don’t need one. Fucking shysters, all of you.

For the sake of today’s visit just call me what it says on my visitor’s permit - Mr. Drakos. Please allow me to begin by telling you that as a gesture of goodwill for you agreeing to see me, £500,000 has today been deposited in your Lloyds Bank account. It will appear as a lottery win; therefore it will not attract tax. Nor will it be subject to money laundering investigations.

Okay, what's the catch?

There’s no catch Mr. Ellis, the only circumstance in which it would be returnable, is if you speak about this conversation to any other person, anybody at all and by that I mean, ever. And I mean anybody, none of your family, friends, lovers, fellow inmates, or associates. If we recover it, we will do it, not in increments and not only half a million pounds. We will destroy you financially by emptying all your accounts in the UK and Belize, then do the same with your father’s. And we will have you returned to prison for your conspiracy to murder following the death of one of your competitors. But then none of that will be necessary, will it?

You’re talking shit. I don’t have any plans to kill any competitors.

You already have. Two nights ago, Aysar Farooqi was shot with a gun previously owned by your associate Jack Porter. His fingerprints and DNA are still on the weapon. We have that gun along with a letter in your handwriting that you sent to him from here three weeks ago which contains a thinly veiled instruction to have Farooqi killed.

I didn’t send any letter.

I know but we had one created to save you the trouble; here is a photocopy.

The man handed the inmate a sheet of paper, it read:

Jack, How’s Cindy. Is she still giving you a hard time about your drinking? I heard how our team have been losing one or two matches lately. That’s really disappointing, I expect with all their foreign players our boys must feeling a bit intimidated. Their new captain must be the one that’s making the difference - it would be good if he got a better offer, from down under perhaps.

Only another six months or so and I’ll be out I hope, then we can go to some of these matches together. Speak soon,

Mickey.

Ellis read the note with disbelief, How did you do that?

We are a very powerful organization; we have access to massive resources. We had nothing against Mr. Farooqi but unfortunately he had to die in order to demonstrate our capabilities to you. I’m sure I don’t need to explain the consequences for you if you were convicted of conspiracy to murder, whether you’ve been released on license or not. You would be sent back to prison for the rest of your life.

You fucking bastards.

You don’t need to be concerned, because none of that needs to see the light of day as long as you comply with the requirement never to speak of our discussion not even to Mr. Porter. Our commitment applies whether or not you agree to the proposal I’m about to make.

What sort of proposal?

For you, a very lucrative one I suspect.

Explain.

The visitor gave him a summary explanation of what he wanted Ellis’s gang to do.

I don’t understand, we’ve never done anything like this before, why us?

Because your family is uniquely placed to utilize one component essential to our little project.

What percentage of the take would we get?

A hundred percent, the visitor said. We’ve already taken our share from your brother-in-law Roy, although he’ll never know that.

The visitor sniggered, You’ve fucked up that little shit, I like that. What happens at the end of it?

You don’t need to know. Neither do you need to know the motive behind this operation.

What are the risks to me and my gang?

If you’re sensible, I’d say minimal, the man told him with a smile. The initial operation is straightforward and almost risk free because you will have cooperation from one of the principals. I’m hoping you can arrange the second stage yourself with the cooperation of another of your family members.

You’ll need to explain. You’re losing me.

After the visitor spent the next thirty minutes giving Ellis the fine detail of the plan, the prisoner grinned.

And you say the take could be five million dollars?

The figure is yours to decide, but in my view more than ten would be very difficult to process, depending how you receive it.

Okay, I’m in.

I’m so pleased, Mr. Ellis. To show our appreciation, after you’re released from prison a delivery of one million pounds in twenty and fifty pound notes will be delivered to your home as long as stage one of the operation has already begun.

Fantastic, a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Drakos. I’m not allowed to shake hands I’m afraid, Ellis apologized.

No matter. One of your fellow inmates will make himself known to you in the next few days, he will hold a mobile phone for you to keep me informed of developments.

Late October, One week later – Kiki’s Café, Newbury, Berkshire, England

Ronnie Ellis-Webb waited for the jumbo full-English breakfast that he’d ordered for lunch; it was his consolation for having just lost a hundred quid on a sure thing running at Newmarket. The meal with a cup of tea was delivered to his table, by a pretty young waitress. As she placed the plate in front of him she also handed him the bill, with the word ‘Paid’ written across it. He looked up puzzled and she nodded toward an attractive, olive-skinned woman in her thirties sitting at another table.

Who...? he started to say.

The lady asked if you would mind if she joined you for lunch.

He grinned and gestured for the woman to come over. She smiled in return and joined him.

Ronnie made a belated attempt to stand as he took her hand, This was very generous of you.

No problem. It’s Ronald isn’t it, or Roy to be more accurate.

How do you know that?

I know a lot about you Mr. Webster. Almost everything in fact, but you have no need to have concerns. I am no threat to you; quite the reverse in fact.

The waitress delivered an omelette with salad to her.

Please don’t let me stop you eating. It will get cold.

What do you want?

I have a proposal for you; one that will help you out of the corner you find yourself in.

Who are you?

My name is Ariana Georgiou. She handed him her card and took a forkful of egg as he read it.

Are you another con artist. I’ve had enough of those?

I suppose you’re referring to Cameron Spencer. Yes, he’s a nasty piece of work. I’ve seen what he did to you but no, I can assure you that I’m nothing like that, and to demonstrate my goodwill I am prepared to transfer one hundred thousand pounds to your account at the NatWest Bank while we’re sitting here, no commitment on your part.

Go on then, Ronnie challenged.

The woman took a phone from her shoulder bag and tapped the screen for several seconds, waited for it to beep, then tapped it a few more times. After several more seconds Ronnie’s own phone beeped, he looked at it to see a notification that the money had been credited to his account.

Alright, you’ve got my attention, what have I got to do?

At the moment, nothing. That money is yours, whether you choose to hear my proposal or not.

Okay, I’m listening.

Not here, let’s finish our lunch and then go somewhere where we can’t be overheard.

Ronnie couldn’t finish his food quick enough.

On the walk to a local playing field, they began their talk and at the end of their discussion he couldn’t believe his luck. The woman’s proposal was very attractive, seemingly very simple, and almost risk free. He didn’t fully understand her motives, but his own situation was critical, and this could be a sure fire way to put him back where he needed to be.

Mid-November – HM Prison Grendon

Hello mate, how’re you doing? The visitor nervously asked.

Afternoon Roy, Mickey Ellis replied.

I go by Ronnie these days.

As far as I’m concerned, you’re Roy. You only changed your name to get away from people who thought you were their mate until you stole their money, so you can forget all that bollocks with me.

You asked to me to come and see you.

No Roy, I told you to come and see me. That’s because you’ve got yourself in a jam and you need my help to get out of it.

Yeah sorry, Mickey, but I’ve got a plan which I think you’re gonna love...

"Before you go any further let’s both be sure of the status of this discussion. You owe me a lot of money, and you want me to help you to find a way for you to pay me back. That’s what we’re talking about here isn’t it?"

Er yes I suppose it is.

So what’s in it for me?

Probably five million.

Pounds?

Maybe dollars.

Okay explain.

Roy began describing his plan.

Whoa, hold on a minute. This could cost a lot of money to set up. Who’s financing this caper?

I was hoping you might be able to help with that, and then take it out of my cut.

Do you think I’m fucking stupid. You already owe me a hundred grand and rising and you want me to lay out – what - another twenty thousand?

I thought you might look on it as an investment.

Well, we’ll see about that; I’ve seen the results of your investments. Carry on.

Once Roy had finished laying out his plan, he looked at his brother-in-law and asked What do you think?

Why Canada. We could do it here in the UK.

Roy didn’t fully understand himself, but those were his instructions from the Georgiou woman, so he went ahead and repeated her explanation.

Okay, I’m interested, but I’ll need to get Jack to do some research before I agree.

Roy smiled, I knew you’d see the potential, Mickey.

"If I’m going to make this investment you’re speaking of, then I’m gonna need some security."

The smile fell from Roy’s face, W-what do you mean?

Your house.

But that’s the only real asset I’ve got left and it’s worth four million quid.

That’s right but if I’m going to go to the expense and risk of getting involved in this, then I need to be sure I don’t lose out.

Okay I guess.

Saturday, Early December - Shopping Mall, Reading, Berkshire, England

They’d followed the vehicle from near its base outside Pangbourne, and now Jack Porter and his nineteen-year-old son, Billy, sat in their car watching the driver and his daughter. They waited for them to get out of the eight-year-old BMW X7. The man had parked on the third level of the multi-level car park and on a Saturday the followers were lucky to find a free space of their own, let alone within sight of the other car.

If they’re as rich as you say, why are they driving a car as old as that? Porter asked.

Not recognizing the rhetorical nature of the question, Billy said, Dunno, Dad; just tight I suppose.

The driver’s door opened, but the man’s size made it difficult for him to get out while taking care not to damage the adjacent car.

Jeezus, he’s fucking enormous. What did you say he does for a living?

According to Uncle Roy, he’s in security. He thinks he’s some sort of bouncer. I dunno why he works at all though. Maybe his missus doesn’t let him have much to spend; perhaps he has to do it for pin money. Her mum used to be Lady something or other, married to a rich guy who died, then married another rich guy who died as well. I looked her up on one of those rich lists, worth one point three billion. According to Wikipedia, he used to be the family bodyguard until he started fucking the mum, randy cow! Anyway they’re married now.

What did it say about him?

His name is Drew Parker, and he was in the army before they met, not much more.

How old is the girl? Porter said, as they got out of their own car to follow their prey on foot.

About sixteen as far as I can work out. Same age as Roy’s Poppy. Her real father was the first husband.

Roy reckons the mum will be an easy touch.

Yeah Dad, but I wouldn’t want to try anything with that massive bastard around.

Roy’s plan cuts him right out of the picture. We’ll keep following them. I want to get a closer look and get a good understanding of who we’re dealing with.

Don’t mind if we do Dad. The girl’s horny - got a nice arse.

I thought you had your eye on that barmaid at the club. What's her name? Lorna isn’t it?

I already had her, weeks ago, she was okay I guess; a bit of an animal in bed, but those enormous tits turned out to be silicon, a bit off putting in the end. They hardly move.

They followed the man and daughter as they went from one shop to another without buying anything in most of them, but they were close enough to overhear some of their banter. He teased her as she held various pieces of clothing up against her, while she mocked him for being old-fashioned. The camaraderie and affection between the two was obvious to anyone.

Finally the stalkers followed them into ‘Next’ and they watched her choose and try on trainers, then ask about some for him, only to be told they didn’t stock the sort of thing he wanted, let alone in his size. They paid for their purchases, left the shop, and made their way to a steakhouse.

The followers discussed whether to go inside and ask for a table but they’d remained unspotted until now and decided not to risk it. While they waited a discreet distance from the entrance, Porter sent Billy to get them each a burger from McDonalds.

When the two eventually emerged from the restaurant they passed their watchers who heard the girl say, I don’t believe you ordered two steaks.

I get hungry.

Mummy said, if you keep eating steak at the rate you do, you’ll turn into a cow.

I’m a Yank, Cassie, it’s what we do. You should know that. Anyway, wouldn’t it be more likely be a bull?

In the car park the stalkers quickly got in their car and watched the man struggling to get into his own, the vehicle next to theirs had changed and parked closer than its predecessor. In the end, he asked the girl to get into the driving seat and reverse the car out so he could get in. It looked as if it were something they’d done before.

The BMW made its way to the spiral exit ramp, the two watchers following in their Mercedes, keeping what they thought was an appropriate distance, but at the last turn Porter was forced to brake sharply, because the BMW had stopped and the girl’s father was standing beside it.

The man strolled back to their car, snatched the door open, pulled the keys from the ignition, and tossed them over the balcony to whatever was below. Then grasping the driver by the neck with one massive hand he hit him hard on the nose with the other.

Why are you following us? the huge man demanded to know.

The driver was in no condition to reply; he was semi-conscious, blood pouring from his broken nose, and his eyes were clenched shut against the pain.

I’m talking to you in the passenger seat asshole. Tell me why or I’ll hit him again, and if that doesn’t work I’ll start on you.

We weren’t following... Billy started to say, but seeing the man draw his arm back to hit his father a second time, he changed his mind and gave the excuse they’d cooked up before they left home, The Winchester Guardian want to do an article on Mrs. Parker-West and the reporter asked us to find out more about her family.

Name?

Graham Jones. The boy nervously replied.

Yours?

No the reporter. I’m Mark Jenkinson. This is my dad Owen. We’re enquiry agents.

I’m busy right now and don’t have time to discuss this but let me leave you with this thought. If I ever see either of your faces again, I’ll assume that you intend harm to either me or a member of my family and what I’ve done to your old pappy today will seem like a gentle kiss on the cheek. Do we understand one another?

Y-yes.

Good, and if Graham Jones exists, which I doubt, and wants to know anything about my wife he should contact the Press Office at NorArm-Silico. Your car is registered in the name of ME Property Services, so if I ever find the need to locate you or the people you work for, I’ll know where to start looking. Have a nice day.

The man walked back to his car seemingly oblivious to the growing queue of angry motorists backed up on the exit ramp.

Wednesday, four days later - HM Prison Grendon

What the fuck happened to your nose? Mickey asked.

Jack Porter was embarrassed to tell his boss the true story. We got into it with some of Farooqi’s guys. They’ve been trying to take back that parade of shops in North Hillingdon. It all got a bit out of hand. It’s sorted now.

I hope you’re not talking bollocks to me, Jack. Just cos I’m locked up in here, doesn’t mean I don’t know what's happening on my patch. I heard those shops were sorted out last month.

Yeah well, maybe they were. You don’t need to know about my nose.

The fuck I don’t. I’m outta here in a few months, and I need to know where I stand on day one. What I don’t want is to find I got a load of problems I didn’t know about on my first day in the office. Do you understand me?

You won’t have. Everything is hunky-dory.

So tell me what happened to your nose, and no bullshit this time. If someone needs putting away I want it right before I’m out.

It was the Parker guy. He spotted us tailing him in the shopping center and waited for us and caught me by surprise.

"Does