Chapter 5: Ransom
K sat in front of the old typewriter. He'd bought it in a second hand shop on the coast and although it wasn't antique, it was old. He'd tried to ink the ribbon with a printer cartridge ink refill, as he didn't want to ask around for the real thing, but it had dried out too quick and in the end he'd bought artists drawing and painting ink which seemed to work if you brushed it on and used it quickly.
Being a criminal genius is a lot harder than he'd thought and although he was sure he was making far too many slip ups, it was reassuring to think the ink would confuse the shit out of the police, and anyway, he only planned to use it twice. He hand wrote the note first and checked it for errors and content, it just about covered everything he wanted it to. K slipped on a pair of latex gloves from a box he'd bought in a car spares shop and opened the fresh ream of paper that was next to the typewriter. He removed a single sheet and rolled it into the typewriter, moved it up a few lines with the lever and began copying from his hand written note. When he'd finished he removed the note carefully.
Artist's ink takes longer to dry so he laid it in a clean plastic tray while he removed a new envelope from a pack, rolled this into the typewriter and typed the Martins' name and address on the front, he removed this and left it resting on the paper stand on the back of the typewriter while it dried. After ten minutes he folded the note, slipped it into the envelope, pulled the plastic strip from the glue and sealed it shut. Finally he pulled a self-adhesive stamp from a fresh pack and stuck that on the front. He put the letter in a freezer bag, and put that in the plastic tray. He wasn't so familiar with police forensic techniques but he was a believer in science and was sure that, no matter how careful he'd been, he'd left some sort of evidence. However, he was hoping he'd at least thought of everything obvious and made no silly mistakes: being caught was something he could really do without right now, thank you very much!
K unfolded a large sheet of plastic - the kind painters use to cover furniture - and threw it over the desk and everything on it, then went to bed. He lay for a long time in the darkness thinking about what had begun, what the police would be doing now, what the parents would be feeling. It was a long time before he fell asleep.
When K awoke it was to the sound of the alarm next to his bed, and although it was only four am he wanted to be up early enough to catch the first collection from outside the sorting office on Vicarage Lane. That was the only real way to ensure the ransom note made it to the house today. He was up and dressed in five minutes, appearance being the least of his concerns right now.
He looked in on the boy who was sleeping soundly. K wrote a short note and left it for the boy, just to remind him of the basics and reassure him that everything was OK. K filled yesterday's thermos with coffee, grabbed the freezer bag from under the plastic sheet and left. He walked once round the old cottage, checking off everything in his mind before jumping into the van and driving away.
He'd never made the drive at this time of day and although the roads were deserted he didn't save as much time as he'd planned and only just made it to the Vicarage Lane sorting office by a quarter past six, the thermos empty. He slid the ransom note directly from the freezer bag into the post box outside the sorting office, walked straight back to the van, jumped in and was gone. From there K drove three miles to his home. As he approached he flicked the remote for his garage door and when it was open pulled the van in next to the Jaguar, the doors closing quietly behind him.
The van was the only weakness K had to accept, not that it was registered to him. It had been bought for cash and had never been transferred to his name. If he ever got stopped in it he planned to use the name of the last owner and not worry. The previous owner had been not very bright, and extremely happy when K had paid the very high asking price without question He had taken all the paperwork to 'fill in later as he was in a hurry to move house and needed the van right away'.
He could be in absolutely no way connected to the van, except it was in his garage of course, but K figured it was safer and less conspicuous there than in a lock up somewhere. He was very well respected by his neighbors. Most of them knew he'd bought a retreat somewhere and was fixing it up but none had any real idea where it was. And who the hell bats an eyelid at a white Ford Transit anyway?
K made fresh coffee in his kitchen and although he thought there was not much chance he would be able to get back to sleep after his drive, he needed more. He was on holiday for the next six weeks. After that he'd have to go back to work, but he figured he could have the whole thing tied up before then. K turned on TV and watched morning television between dozing, finally sleeping soundly around nine.