Double Cross

by Malorie Blackman

  'No, it's not that,' I rushed to reassure her. 'I'd like to go out with you. In fact, I'm glad I had the idea.'

  Rebecca laughed and this time I joined in.

  'So what would you like to see?' I said.

  'Tell you what. Why don't we go to one of those multiplexes where they're showing lots of films and then we can decide.'

  'OK. Sunday or Monday?' I asked.

  'How about both?' Rebecca winked at me.

  'Both it is,' I agreed with a grin.

  I asked for her mobile number and she gave it to me without hesitation. I actually had Rebecca Dowd's digits! After one final kiss which lasted a bit longer this time, I got out of the car. I waved at her as she drove off, but the moment I turned to my front door, my smile vanished.

  thirty-nine

  Hi, Callie.

  I bought these for you. Sorry they're a bit squashed and some of the petals have fallen off . . . well, a lot of the petals have fallen off, but I had them under my jacket. It's not that I'm ashamed of bringing you flowers or anything. It's just . . . I was keeping them safe inside my jacket in case the wind caught them before I could get to the hospital. Anyway, enough of the flowers. I'll leave them at your bedside and I'll ask one of the nurses to put them in a vase just before I leave. I know how much you like flowers.

  So how are you today?

  You're looking better. I know I always say that, but you really are. Was that a flicker of a smile I saw just then? Callie, I must admit, I sort of envy you. Nothing that's happening in the outside world can touch you now. You're above and beyond all that. I know when you wake up, it'll all be here waiting for you, but at least for now you don't have to worry about the world and everything going on in it.

  Sometimes I look around and I wonder, 'Is this it? Is this all there is?'

  But then I think of you. I remember the way you smile at me.

  And my question is answered.

  forty

  'Rebecca, why don't you just come out and tell your mum that you want to be a teacher?'

  'Because it wouldn't do any good,' Rebecca sighed.

  She took a sip of her fizzy mineral water and looked around the Mexican restaurant. It was a bit on the loud side and probably not as upmarket as she was used to, but if I was paying half the bill for our meal – which I'd insisted on – then it'd have to do. We'd decided to dine today and go to the cinema the following day instead. And in all fairness, Rebecca had been enthusiastic about eating at Los Amigos. I was the one with doubts, which had proved to be unfounded. The restaurant was about onethird full. Not bad for a Sunday night.

  'If you did go to university, what would you study?' I asked.

  'History. Or maybe History and Politics. But what's the point of talking about it? It's never going to happen.'

  'Why not?'

  'Mum won't hear of it. As far as she's concerned, she and my brothers are working hard so that I'll never have to. She reckons I should – quote – find a good man, get married, produce grandchildren and enjoy myself – unquote. What d'you think of that?'

  'Sounds like hell!' I replied truthfully.

  Rebecca laughed. 'My sentiments exactly. Mum thinks that having money and having ambition are somehow mutually exclusive.'

  'Have you tried to tell her otherwise?'

  'Until I'm blue in the face,' she said. She took another sip of her mineral water, then sighed. 'I would've made a good teacher.'

  'So you're going to give up? Just like that?'

  'You don't know my mum.'

  Was she kidding? Vanessa Dowd was a formidable woman and an implacable enemy. Everyone knew that. And her sons Gideon and especially Owen were cut from the same cloth. If you got in their way, they'd run you over and never spare you a first thought, never mind a second one.

  'My mum always says that this life isn't a dress rehearsal,' I began carefully. 'Mum says that regret is an underestimated emotion that can eat away at you just as much as jealousy or anger.'

  'Your mum says a lot,' Rebecca said ruefully.

  'Ain't that the truth!'

  'You want something so you just . . .' She made a gesture with her hand like a rocket zooming upwards. 'You just go for it. It's that simple?'

  'Yes, it is – if you want it to be,' I replied. 'I mean, look at you and me. To some people this is complicated. But not to me. What could be more simple than the two of us sitting here, enjoying a meal together? Mind you . . . Never mind.'

  'Go on,' Rebecca prompted.

  'I can't help wondering why you agreed to have dinner,' I admitted. 'After all, I am younger than you. Isn't that the kiss of death?'

  'You're only younger by a few weeks. That's not much,' said Rebecca. 'Besides, you look much older than me.'

  'Thanks,' I said dryly.

  'No, I meant that as a compliment,' she rushed to explain. 'Some guys look younger than their age or they act all juvenile and silly, but you're much more mature. And I look younger than I really am, so you looking so much older than me works, don't you think?'

  'Thanks. I think.'

  'Oh hell, that didn't come out the way I wanted at all. What I mean is—'

  'Tell you what,' I broke in. 'How about we change the subject?'

  'I'd like that,' Rebecca agreed gratefully.

  We grinned at each other. My smile faded first.

  'Tobey, tell me more about your friends at—'

  But she was interrupted by our first course arriving – a large bowl of guacamole sitting on a plate surrounded by mountains of nachos which we'd decided to share. I was so busy concentrating on the food being carefully placed between us that I almost missed Rebecca's gasp. I looked up immediately. She looked down, but not before I caught the expression on her face.

  'What's wrong?' I frowned.

  'Nothing.' The reply was terse, verging on a snap.

  I looked around. There were people at the bar, Noughts and Crosses, mostly couples or small groups, but one or two people were drinking alone. More people were sitting down at tables, eating. No one was even looking at us. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. I turned back to Rebecca. Something was still troubling her.

  'Becks, I'm not a complete idiot, only half of one! So what's going on?'

  'I'm so sorry, Tobey. This wasn't my idea, I promise you.'

  'What?'

  'We're being watched,' Rebecca admitted.

  I only just managed to stop myself from spinning round. I took a deep breath, then another.

  'Who's watching us?' I asked when I trusted myself to sound relatively calm.

  'It doesn't matter,' she said, her head bowed.

  'It does to me.'

  'The man at the bar, the one wearing glasses. He works for my brother.'

  'Which one?' I said sharply.

  'I told you, the man wearing glasses . . .' Rebecca frowned.

  'No, which brother does he work for?'

  'Gideon. But what difference does it make?'

  All the difference in the world.

  'Why is your brother having us followed?'

  'I don't know. I . . . I may have mentioned you, once or twice.' Rebecca was staring at her nachos like they were sprouting wings. 'Maybe more than twice. But I never thought he'd stoop so low as to have us followed.'

  'What does he think I'm going to do to you? Kidnap you?'

  'Look, I'm really sorry.' Rebecca still couldn't look me in the eye. 'If you want to bail on me, I'll understand. I would, in your shoes.'

  Her expression was a cocktail of various emotions. Her lips kept twisting in a parody of a smile and she was blinking an awful lot. I realized with a start that she was on the verge of tears.

  I forced a smile. 'I'm not going to bail, Rebecca. I like you. But this has to be the most original date I've ever been on.'

  Rebecca's smile was more genuine than my own. 'Wait here. I'll be right back.'

  She practically bounded from her chair and marched across to the bar. I swivelled in my chair and watched as she tapped the Cro
ss guy wearing glasses on the shoulder. He turned, polite query on his face. Nice try! Rebecca's voice was too low for me to make out what she was saying, but her expressive face conveyed the conversation just as well as any words. Her words were flowing thick and fast, her expression thunderous. The guy tried to act innocent, but soon gave up on that when it became clear that Rebecca wasn't buying it. They had a heated discussion for a couple of minutes. Had this guy been following me when I met Byron? If it was him, then what had he seen? I'd lost him before reaching Adam Eisner's house, I was sure of it. And he couldn't've seen much through Byron's tinted car windows, but even so.

  I stood up, wondering if I should join them. I dithered about for a few moments before making up my mind, but the moment I set foot in their direction, the guy headed for the exit. Rebecca walked back to me, her lips pursed together.

  'Everything OK?' I asked as we both sat down again.

  'It is now,' she replied.

  'Does your brother do this every time you're on a date?' I asked.

  'Not after today he won't. I'll make certain of that.'

  'Can I ask you a question about your family?' I began tentatively.

  'Go on then.'

  'Now that your family are . . . successful, wouldn't it make more sense for them to give up all the . . . less legal stuff and go legit?'

  'I regularly ask Mum that same question,' sighed Rebecca.

  'And what does she say?'

  'There's no guarantee that a legitimate business will succeed – too many external, uncontrollable variables. But there will always be a market for the illegal. That's as predictable as the sun rising each morning, plus it's a faster way to make money.'

  'Is that you or your mum talking?' I frowned.

  'My mum, of course,' said Rebecca sharply. 'With a bit of Gideon thrown in.'

  A faster way to make money? For the likes of the Dowds and McAuley maybe. For the ones who worked for them, it was a faster way to end up rotting in prison – or rotting in a cemetery, more like.

  'Besides, Mum's got some high-up Meadowview cop in her pocket, so we don't get troubled too much,' Rebecca added.

  'You do stay away from that world, though, don't you?' I asked, anxiously.

  'Of course. Nothing to do with me,' Rebecca said, suddenly looking concerned as though she realized she was saying too much. 'Besides, Mum wouldn't let me get involved, even if I wanted to.'

  I could only admire the way Rebecca brushed off her family's business. Nothing to do with her – except that she dressed in it and drove it and ate it and slept on it and under it and every jewel she wore was paid for by it. I had to find out a few things before this went any further.

  'How is Gideon going to react to you going out with one of his employees?' I asked, deliberately changing the subject.

  'If it doesn't interfere with your work at TFTM, what difference does it make?' Rebecca frowned.

  'The quality of my work will be irrelevant,' I pointed out. 'Your brother isn't going to like this.'

  'Does that bother you?' Rebecca asked.

  I shook my head. 'Not if it doesn't bother you.'

  'It doesn't. I really like you, Tobey – in case you hadn't already noticed. And you're the first guy to treat me like Rebecca instead of Rebecca Dowd.'

  'That means a lot to you, doesn't it?'

  Rebecca nodded. 'Yes, it does.'

  I lowered my gaze and bit into another nacho. She was with me because she thought her surname didn't matter to me. I was beginning to realize just how lonely Rebecca truly was.

  'We should make this a regular thing,' I ventured. 'Our Sunday night dinner together.'

  'I'd like that.' Rebecca grinned.

  I grinned back. 'D'you wanna swap email and IM addresses?'

  'Fine with me,' she said. 'If you give me your phone, I'll key in all my details.'

  Once we'd swapped info, I checked my phone to make sure that all the information was saved. Rebecca had given me all her details, including her home address. I put my phone back in my inside jacket pocket.

  I dipped a nacho into the guacamole and held it out to Rebecca. She grinned at me before opening her mouth. We fed each other until the guacamole bowl was empty. This dinner date had been more successful than I could've dared to imagine. The Dowds owned a copper – and not just a constable or a sergeant by the sound of it. I'd rapidly changed the subject when Rebecca mentioned it, especially as she looked so worried about what she'd revealed. The last thing I wanted was for her to think I'd latched onto what she'd said. But I'd taken it in and filed it away. My inner euphoria was fading somewhat, though. OK, so I knew at least one Meadowview copper was corrupt. One slight problem: I didn't know who. And until I did, I couldn't use the information to my advantage. And I sure as hell couldn't trust any of them. Should I risk trying to get a bit more information from Rebecca? Then I realized what I was contemplating and the direction of my thoughts startled me.

  Don't do it, Tobey.

  I needed the information, but part of me – a big part of me – was loath to use Rebecca like that. I didn't want her to think I was just like every other guy she knew.

  I looked around the room, forcing myself to think of something else.

  So Gideon was having us followed, was he?

  Let him do his worst. I had plenty to hide, but neither Gideon nor any of his employees would ever find it.

  forty-one

  I'd only been home for ten minutes when my phone, or rather McAuley's phone, rang.

  'Hello, Mr McAuley,' I said the moment I accepted the call.

  'Hello, Tobey.' McAuley's oily voice sent a chill tapdancing across my skin. 'You've been working at TFTM for long enough now. What've you got for me?'

  Nothing.

  Except . . .

  'I've found out something interesting, sir,' I began.

  'Oh yes?'

  I took a deep breath. 'There's a crooked cop working at Meadowview police station, high up by all accounts, who's on the Dowd's payroll.'

  'Who?' McAuley said eagerly.

  'I haven't found that out yet,' I admitted.

  'Why not?'

  'My source didn't know the name of the bent copper. Reb— I mean, er . . . regarding the bent cop, my source didn't have any other information.'

  'I need a name, Tobey, and sooner rather than later, or your information is worse than useless,' McAuley snapped.

  'Yes, sir. I'll see what I can do.'

  'I want a name, Tobey,' he reiterated.

  'Yes, sir.'

  McAuley hung up. Damn it. Talk about providing the guy with steel-capped boots so he could give me a good kicking. What had I been thinking? Plus I'd almost given Rebecca away by saying her name. How stupid was that? McAuley wouldn't leave me alone now until I told him the name of the crooked cop who worked for the Dowds. I needed to find out who it was. And fast.

  But how?

  forty-two

  Another Tuesday evening rolled around all too soon again. Tuesday evenings were beginning to feel just like Monday mornings used to. But at least my weekend had been OK. Dinner with Rebecca on Sunday and the cinema yesterday – some chick-flick she chose. The poster called it a 'romantic thriller', but it was thrillerlite as far as I was concerned. After the cinema we had a bite to eat and walked for a while, talking about anything and everything before Rebecca finally drove me home. The fifteen minutes we were parked outside my house were spent synchronizing lips rather than chatting. It was OK, I guess. Nothing like kissing Callie . . . but OK.

  Until I got out of the car and saw Sephy watching me. We regarded each other silently. With a scornful toss of her head, she turned away first, dumping the bulging black bin liner in her hand into the wheelie bin for collection the following morning. She walked back into her house without saying a word to me. I stood on the pavement long after she'd gone indoors. I could see myself exactly as she saw me. It wasn't a pleasant picture.

  So here I was back at TFTM, my mind full of questions and doubts and wo
rries – and very few answers. I put on my multi-striped, multi-coloured waistcoat, trying not to take too many lingering looks at the thing before it brought on a migraine. Every time I saw my waistcoat I had to remind myself about all the money I was making. I was just fastening up my matching bow tie when Michelle came marching into the men's changing rooms. Luckily it was the beginning of the shift rather than the end, so most of us were dressed or heading that way. Michelle, however, had eyes for no one but me.

  'Tobey, Gideon Dowd wants to see you in his office,' she told me.

  'Now or after my shift?'

  'Now.'

  This was either about Rebecca or McAuley's letter to Vanessa Dowd. I knew which one I'd rather it was.

  'Where's Gideon's office then?' I asked.

  'That's Mr Dowd to you. Go upstairs to the Club. The office door is next to the upstairs kitchenette.'

  I headed up to the Club via the back stairs and made my way to Gideon's office door. At the top of the stairs, I came to an abrupt halt. Someone was coming out of Gideon's office, someone I recognized. I only caught sight of his face for a second before he turned his back to me and strode towards the customer exit. He hadn't seen me – too busy scrutinizing the piece of paper in his hand. But it was him, I was sure of it. Frowning, I decided to keep what I'd seen to myself. At least until I could use it for my own purposes.

  Now that I was back in the Club, I took another look around. The silk awnings had been removed, revealing the smooth white ceiling that hadn't been apparent before. All the statues in the alcoves had been replaced with huge potted plants. I shook my head. They shouldn't have bothered with the statues for Rebecca's party: she would've much preferred the plants. I guess the statues photographed better for all the glossy magazines. The Club was still relatively empty apart from a couple of guys taking an inventory behind the bar. I knocked twice on Dowd's door and waited to be invited in.

  'Come!' came the gruff voice.