Taken

Taken DI Grant A P Bateman Contents Also by A P Bateman Dedication Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Author’s Note Text © A P Bateman All rights reserved No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, printing or otherwise, without written permission of the author. This book is a work of fiction and any character resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Some locations may have been changed; others are fictitious. Parts of this book was first published in 2020 as ‘Unforgotten’. Many locations, characters, plot lines and subplots have changed. Facebook: @authorapbateman www.apbateman.com Rockhopper Publishing Also by A P Bateman The Alex King Series The Contract Man Lies and Retribution Shadows of Good Friday The Five Reaper Stormbound Breakout From the Shadows Rogue The Asset Last Man Standing Hunter Killer The Congo Contract Dead Man Walking Sovereign State Kingmaker The Rob Stone Series The Ares Virus The Town The Island Stone Cold The DI Grant Series Vice Taken Standalone Novel Never Go Back (A Big Dave story from the Alex King series) Short Stories The Perfect Murder? Atonement Find out more at: www.apbateman.com Dedication For my wife and children, because that is what everything is for… Chapter One There is a great sadness to be found in the eyes of the dead. A certain knowledge, too. They hold a secret you will not discover until it is your time, and in turn, it will be too late for you to share. Grant bent down, catching his own reflection in the glossy eyes. There was a thick sheen of dried tears and they reminded him of his sister’s dolls as a child. Inanimate. Inhuman. He thought back to when he had last looked into those same eyes – warm, loving and accepting. He had lost himself within the depths of her. Been drawn in. She had given him all he had wanted; all he had asked of her and more. They had shared passion and tenderness. “No motive yet. But given her association, it’s not a stretch of the imagination to say it was retribution,” the Chief Superintendent said. “That or the bitch just knew too much…” Grant fought the urge to smooth a hand across her face and stood back up. He took a breath, his heart pounding. “Any clue to how it was done?” The senior officer looked at him. “There’s a shit-load of cocaine in the next room. Credit card and a rolled fifty-pound note. There’s coke in her nose and mouth, traces around her nipples, even…” he trailed off. “Seems she had some fun with someone, and they snorted it off each other, but it all went too far. Accidental overdose, I’d say…” “Bullshit!” Grant snapped. “She never did cocaine.” “And you would know? How would you know a thing like that? My, you really did get undercover, didn’t you?” “I know a frame-up when I see it. Someone pumped her full of some bad shit and staged a scene.” “Well obviously. But, who? Roper has half a dozen rival dealers, but most of them wouldn’t have the balls to do something like this.” He paused. “If someone wanted to get to Roper, then they could find a better way. Out-bid him or undercut him. This is too hands-on for international arms dealers. No, the woman’s death is a statement.” Grant watched as the SOCO leader instructed the forensic officers to get the body into a body bag. He smarted as the woman’s skirt was ridden up around her thighs in the process. He was familiar with the underwear, the cut of the material and the shape of the outline it covered. One of the officers respectfully pulled the skirt back down and together they heaved and wriggled the bag under her buttocks. He knew there was a small tattoo on the right cheek. She had apparently had it done for a dare when she was just eighteen. It was the only tattoo she had, and it was an outline of a dove holding an olive branch in its beak. She said she had been big on peace back then. Ironic, given who she had ended up marrying. “Are you okay, DCI Grant?” “Fine.” “What in God’s name is a DCI doing in undercover work, anyway?” “Experience.” “Perhaps somebody enjoys setting you up to fail?” The Chief Superintendent smirked. “Commander Maitland is no longer here to look after you.” “I know. I sent flowers to his widow.” “Maybe it was all that guff down in Cornwall last summer…” He smiled, relishing in scrutinising Grant’s career. That was what happened to maverick police officers, they were built up, then torn back down. “Did a lot of damage to the police service down there. Made a few enemies, no doubt. Perhaps that’s why someone sent you in undercover?” Grant looked at the man. They had been at Hendon together. Right now, he felt like punching him, but instead he said, “I go where I’m sent. That tends to be how the chain of command works.” “You’re blown, by the way.” “Blown?” “Like a candle,” the Chief Superintendent replied. “You’re out. Finished. That’s why I brought you here. Let you see what sloppy work does, what it means for people. The consequences it meant for her, and the waste of time and resources put in by your colleagues.” He paused; his smirk was unnerving. The man