by Jay Gill
Cutler smiled and instantly became more animated. ‘The Cassley Shoes family. Mr Henry Frederick Cassley established the company in 1857 and it’s still a family-owned business to this day. We have seventy-two stores across UK. Sixteen stores across Europe, with plans to open more over the next five years. The shoes are still hand finished in the UK. At head office, there is a collection of original shoe designs by Mr Cassley. Unlike most companies, employees here are referred to as family. We’re not staff, we’re family. Stacy was family, and that means we’re all grieving.’
Rayner smiled to himself and began to look around. Cutler’s eyes started following him and I did my best to bring his attention back to my questions.
‘You sound proud of being a part of the Cassley Shoes company. Did you know Stacy well? Meet her yourself, I mean? Being a regional manager, you must be responsible for a lot of staff – a lot of the Cassley family, I should say.’
‘I met Stacy once or twice. Her boyfriend. . .’ He frowned, thinking. ‘I may have seen him, but I don’t really remember. I was here the day before Stacy died. She was always so great with the customers; very attentive. From what I could tell she was a good member of the family, worked well with everyone. Sweet natured, from what I could tell.’
‘Did she say anything that might indicate she was in any kind of trouble? Or did Peter, for that matter? Or do you think anything was worrying her?’
Michael looked past me at Anthony, who had come back into the stock room.
‘I wouldn’t really hear about that sort of thing. And I didn’t really speak to anyone that day. You see, I visit each store about every two weeks. Some stores I visit more than others. If sales are down, for example, I might visit and help figure out what’s happening. Or if, like today, they’re short staffed, then I’ll offer my assistance. We all pull together.
‘I do remember the last time I was here I was really up against it – in terms of time, I mean. I was keen to get back home. I have two young boys, so I like to get home as early as I can and help my wife. I was here to look at sales figures, and that’s what I did. I didn’t have time to chat to anyone. Of course, now I wish I had.’
I’d hoped I might learn something of significance, but this was feeling increasingly like a dead end. ‘Have you heard anything since? Something of concern that might help the investigation?’
‘No, can’t say I have.’ Cutler glanced at his watch.
‘What about her boyfriend, Peter Rice? Anything you’ve heard that might prove useful?’
‘No. But if I hear anything, I will let you know. Do you think she was killed because Peter was mixed up in something? I heard he was attacked in the street. Shot in a gangland-style execution. Some sort of gang retaliation killing. That he was mixed up with selling drugs. That’s the rumour.’
‘Right now, we’re simply working on building a picture of what happened to them. Do you have contact details for Bianca and all the staff here? I need to arrange for officers to speak to everyone. Their home addresses and telephone numbers, please.’
Cutler disappeared for a few moments, and then returned and handed me a printout. ‘Please be careful with this. It is personal information.’
‘We will,’ said Rayner. ‘Thank you for your time.’
As we prepared to leave, I turned back to Cutler. ‘One last thing,’ I said. ‘A bouquet of flowers was in Stacy’s flat. They were from Cassley Shoes.’ I watched Michael Cutler closely, but he gave no glimmer of recognition. ‘Do you know anything about that?’
‘No. They probably came straight from head office. Or maybe, a member of staff here organised it. It’s the sort of thing the company is really good at – looking out for each other, I mean. Talking of which, should we be worried? Is there any chance the staff here are in danger?’
Rayner hastened to reassure him. ‘We don’t think so. This is very likely an isolated incident.’
Cutler looked unconvinced.
Rayner went on. ‘I’ll arrange for a trained officer to go through some safety precautions with your staff here, if that will put your mind at rest.’
Cutler smiled and looked pleased. ‘That would be extremely useful. Thank you. And perhaps, as it goes on, you could also keep me informed on how the investigation is developing? I can then allay any fears the family here have.’ Cutler gestured towards the staff members hovering around the entrance to the stock room.
I could feel Rayner looking at me.
‘We’ll be in touch if we have any further questions,’ I said. For some reason I felt I should say more. ‘When investigations are ongoing, there isn’t a lot we can share. Sharing information, even with the best of intentions, can jeopardise a case. I’m sure you understand. Please remain vigilant, and if anything else comes to mind, feel free to contact me. You’ve been very helpful. Thank you for your time. We can show ourselves out.’
Rayner whispered to me as we approached my parked car. ‘See how Cutler perked up as soon as he thought he might get some insider information? Bloody busybody. He’s one of those trumped-up little men who’s full of self-importance. He’s probably in there right now telling staff he’s working closely with the police and that it’s all very hush-hush.’
‘Give the guy a break,’ I said. ‘I’ll admit he was a little eager, but I prefer that to someone who just clams up and says nothing.’
Chapter Twenty-Five
George Norton swung the Jaguar into the driveway. He eased the car towards the garage and waited a few moments as the door slowly opened. The last few days had been harder than he’d anticipated; the deaths had put everyone on edge. If years in government had taught him anything, it was that what can seem like an insurmountable problem one day can quickly turn into nothing more than a mild irritation the next. Often all that is needed is a new problem. Some bad news or a salacious scandal can make any current problem old news. And right now, that just wouldn’t do.
Norton parked up then ducked under the garage door as it closed. He stood on his driveway breathing in the refreshing cold night air. Time for a last cigarette of the day, something that had become something of a ritual. A precious moment of solitude, accompanied by moonlit lawns and near silence.
As he cupped his hands to light the cigarette, he sensed movement behind him. His heart began to race. He instinctively stepped back and scanned the shadows. He strained his eyes to search the darkness for whatever he’d felt. Had he imagined it? At first, he saw nothing. Then out of the shadows, with what appeared to be a swagger, came the cat.
‘You made me jump, Cromwell. You know, it’s a good job your mother loves you. Otherwise you’d be out on your ear. Don’t expect me to stroke you. You’re an overpriced ball of fur.’
Cromwell rubbed himself against him, wrapping himself around his leg.
‘Come here, then,’ Norton said as he picked him up. ‘You must promise not to tell her that I stroked you – and don’t get fur on my suit. It was ridiculously expensive.’
Norton was surprised by how jumpy he was. He thought about Brannon and McPherson. If they’d behaved differently, they’d be alive today. He wondered what they would have done on their last day had they known their lives would end so abruptly. He flicked the cigarette butt over a low privet hedge and considered lighting another. He decided against it; he was on edge enough already and more nicotine wouldn’t help. He had started towards the house when a voice from the shadows rooted him to the spot.
‘That’ll kill you. Then again, I guess no one ever knows when their time is up.’
Norton dropped Cromwell and twisted round, his eyes and ears attempting to pinpoint the voice. The intruder stepped out from alongside the garage. Norton realised he must have been watching him the whole time. He looked between the approaching figure and the house, then up to the bedroom window. His wife was probably in bed with a book, and even if she’d heard him arrive home, she’d never look outside or come to the door to greet him, not anymore. He was alone with his intruder.
&nbs
p; Surprisingly, he felt nothing more than irritation. He knew who it was and had a good idea why he was here tonight. He decided he needed to take control of the situation; otherwise, this could end badly.
‘Are you out of your mind? What the hell are you doing here?’
The intruder said nothing.
‘If you want to talk, that’s fine, but let’s go into the garage where we won’t be seen.’
Though the strong smell of car fumes was somewhat unpleasant, the garage interior was well lit and warm. The two men faced each other.
‘Would you mind not leaning on the car?’ said Norton.
‘It’s a nice car. Must have cost quite a bit. A Jag, isn’t it?’
‘You’re not Jeremy bloody Clarkson, and I suspect you’re not here to talk about cars. Let’s get this over with.’ Norton wasn’t at all sure whether he sounded in control of his nerves, but he wanted to at least make a show of it.
The intruder smiled, then walked around the car while running his fingers over the bodywork. ‘I attended a gruelling thirteen-week sniper course to become a Royal Marine Sniper,’ he said conversationally. ‘Did you know it’s one of the hardest training courses in the world? Before even starting the course, I had to get through a selection process. Then, having passed that, we’re taught advanced infantry skills which cover marksmanship, map reading, fieldcraft, camouflage and concealment techniques.’
‘That’s wonderful. Your mother must be proud,’ scoffed Norton, with growing impatience.
‘To remain invisible, a sniper wears a camouflage net called a ghillie. What most people don’t know is that just wearing the ghillie suit doesn’t make you invisible. To become invisible, you must change the camouflage to suit your environment. Then, as you move over different terrain, you must make further changes to ensure you continue to blend in and stay hidden. The skill is to acknowledge your current situation and adapt to ever-changing circumstances.’
‘That is all very well and good, but what the hell do you want?’ asked Norton. ‘We had a deal and part of that deal was that we would not speak again. Yet, here you are. At my home, of all places. So please, I’d appreciate it if you’d get to the point and then leave.’
‘The current situation has changed, and I need to adapt. We need to adapt. I need the rest of the money. I need it tonight.’
Norton laughed. ‘A deal is a deal. Do you really think I am going to pay you the rest before you’ve completed the list? Why would I do that? From my point of view, it makes no sense at all.’
He knew all about the man opposite him; of course he did. Norton himself had sifted through all the many candidates, and this one had stood out for obvious reasons. That was why, out of all the candidates, he’d selected Royal Marines Sniper Corporal Jared Vaughan to kill Brannon and McPherson.
What he hadn’t counted on was Corporal Vaughan wanting to renegotiate terms. In retrospect, it was rather a schoolboy error on his part.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Corporal Jared Vaughan placed the tip of the knife on the bonnet of the car.
‘Like that, is it?’ asked Norton. ‘If you don’t get your way, you’ll cut my throat? I always took you to be a man of honour.’
‘If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead already. I think we both know you wouldn’t see it coming. I certainly wouldn’t introduce myself first.’
‘If this is about your daughter’s illness, then I’m truly sorry. If it were up to me, I’d transfer the rest of the money. But it’s not up to me. There are others involved.’
Vaughan pressed the tip of the knife down hard and dragged the blade across the bonnet. The metal screeched as the blade cut through the paint. ‘Seems to me we have ourselves an impasse. I need that money now, and you need another pawn removed so you can get to where you want to be.’
Unmoved by what he considered a display of petulance, Norton waved his hand to encourage Vaughan to remove the knife from the paintwork of the car. ‘Listen, you and I have a contract. Complete the contract and we both win, but we must adhere to what we agreed. You’ve done sterling work and you’re close to a handsome payday. A few more steps to complete and we’re both home and dry. Nobody has a clue what’s going on. We’ve muddied the waters and it’s working. On the one hand, you have James Hardy and the rest of the Met chasing their tails and spreading paranoia. And on the other hand, I have intelligence and security services looking for religious fanatics. Should it be necessary, I even have one of those young fanatics ready to take the fall for all this. A patsy.
‘We simply need you to follow orders. Then, before you know it, your little girl can be flown to Europe or the US or wherever she needs to go to have her treatment. After which, you can disappear forever. No one will be any the wiser.’
Vaughan began pacing and pointing the knife at Norton as he spoke. ‘She’s going to die. If she doesn’t get the treatment immediately, it’ll be too late. A specialist flew over and ran more tests and they want to start treatment immediately. We can’t wait. I need that money now. I’ve done what you’ve asked. I will finish the job; you have my word. But I cannot wait any longer for payment.’
‘This is completely unacceptable,’ Norton pushed back. He knew Vaughan needed him. ‘I’d like to make a few things perfectly clear: I really don’t give a rat’s ass about you, your wife or your sickly daughter. The only reason you have this contract is that, without expensive experimental treatment, your little girl will die. Knowing that fact is what they exploited. Haven’t you realised that yet?’
Whether Vaughan knew it or not, Norton knew that hearing it out loud would be painful.
‘It means, Corporal,’ he went on, ‘you’re wasting your time laying your sob story on me, because I really don’t care one way or another whether Becky lives or dies. What I do care about is whether or not you finish the job, because if you don’t, then we both have big problems.’
Norton could see the fire in Vaughan’s eyes as he spoke. ‘We’re not friends; we never were. You don’t get to ask me for favours. You’re in this up to your neck whether you like it not. There is no going back. Finish the job, get paid, and if there’s time, pay for her treatment. Perhaps your daughter will live a few more years; perhaps she won’t.
‘Your only alternative, one I’m sure you’re currently considering, is to kill me and try to disappear. The big problem with that idea is you get no more money and my associates will track you down. They will then torture and kill your family in front of you. You see, they consider a deal a deal. And they just aren’t as warm and cuddly as I am. You being here – that in itself puts us both at risk.
‘Now, if there is nothing else, I’m going to watch Newsnight and enjoy a large Cognac before bed. I suggest you go and comfort your daughter while you can.’ Norton turned his back on Vaughan and pressed the button to open the garage door. ‘Remember, a deal is deal.’
‘You really are a low-life piece of shit,’ said Vaughan. ‘I’ll complete the list, but I am bringing the date forward. I’ve seen another opportunity and I’m taking it.’
‘That’s fine. We know you want to save her. We know you’re prepared to do whatever it takes. So, do your job and as soon as it’s done, the money will be transferred,’ said Norton over his shoulder.
‘I want you to know that if my daughter dies because of the delay, I’m coming after you.’
‘I’d expect nothing less, Corporal. Goodnight.’
Norton walked to the house and didn’t look back.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Unable to sleep, Norton sat at his desk. He stared at the rich, golden colour of the Cognac. There must be another way, he thought to himself. He hadn’t expected this from Vaughan. His military service records had indicated he was the perfect soldier. He was intelligent, skilled, and disciplined, and followed orders without question.
Vaughan had been discharged due to his daughter’s illness. Norton had then authorised that steps be taken to squeeze Vaughan in order to make him more agreea
ble when approached.
It had been a relentless campaign of grooming, with the single aim of turning a good, honest and decent man into one who would do literally anything he was asked to save his daughter and put his life back together. The lucrative job Vaughan had lined up after leaving the military had evaporated. New job applications were rejected. Finance refused. Parking fines and speeding tickets issued. Neighbour disputes orchestrated. Vehicle and property damage inflicted. Even marital problems had been introduced in the form of an agency girl who was paid to befriend him and become a sympathetic ear. Photos were then sent to Vaughan’s wife suggesting he’d played away from home. Anything and everything was used to apply pressure.
It had worked like a dream. At his lowest point, a broken man brought to his knees, Jared Vaughan was offered salvation. It was then, and only then, that Norton had appeared and offered the young corporal a way out. An opportunity not only to save his family but to also do his country a great service. Norton had introduced him to the Kill List contract.
To Vaughan it was like being handed a winning lottery ticket. He could instantly see a way to change his fortunes. It was an opportunity to use his God-given talent as a sniper to save his daughter, put his life back on track and make amends to his wife for the shit he’d put her through. Norton had played up his concern, making out he had no idea Vaughan was in so much trouble. He had even gone so far as to suggest the young corporal wasn’t the right man for such an important task, that he’d keep looking until he found another candidate. Going further still, Norton had suggested Vaughan should focus on ‘being there’ for his wife and poorly daughter. Yes, the country had lost its way. Yes, it needed a man like him to be the catalyst for change, but it would find someone else, eventually.
Norton had introduced the idea of the Kill List contract to Vaughan as a way of showing patriotism.
