by Alex Walters
‘You’ll get another chance to gaze on those handsome features at some point, sis.’
‘Bugger off, Hugh. Some of us are actually trying to do our job.’
‘If you say so, sis. I’ll be in touch in a week or so to touch base. Let me know if there’s anything you need.’
‘Don’t worry, Hugh. You’re always first on the list.’
She slipped the secure phone back in her pocket. Then she took out her domestic phone and dialled the home number. She was half expecting that it would ring out. But it was answered almost immediately. ‘Hello?’
‘Hi, Sue. It’s Marie.’ She glanced at her watch. Nearly eight. What was Sue still doing there? ‘How are things?’
‘He’s back at home. That’s the main thing. They discharged him this morning, once the consultant had seen him, so I drove him back.’
‘That’s very good of you, Sue. Thought you’d be working today.’
‘I booked a day off. They could have brought him home in the ambulance, but I wanted to make sure things were properly ready.’
‘I’m really grateful, Sue. But we can’t expect you to keep–’
‘I’ve told you, Marie. This is more than just a job for me. I do it to earn a living, but with the really needy cases like Liam – well, I don’t mind going beyond the call of duty.’
Marie could feel herself bridling. ‘Well, if you’re sure it’s not too much trouble.’
‘No trouble at all. I enjoy looking after Liam. And he’s very appreciative of everything that I do.’
‘How is he?’
‘Better than he was a few days ago. A bit more his old self. But it’s really knocked it out of him.’
‘Is he able to talk to me?’
There was the briefest of pauses, but enough to suggest that Sue had been considering her excuse. ‘He’s asleep at the moment. I gave him some food when he first got in, and then he dozed off. It’s all been a bit of a strain. Even getting back today. You know how difficult it’s getting to help him in and out of the car.’
‘Well, maybe if he wakes up before you go, you could ask him to give me a call.’
‘Of course. I can help him do it. Will your phone be switched on?’
Marie bit back a sharper response. ‘I’ll leave it on all evening. If you go before he wakes, could you leave him a note?’
Another pause. ‘Yes, of course. Though I don’t know whether he’ll do it if I’m not here to prompt him.’
At first, Marie thought that this was another of Sue’s coded attacks. Why would Liam want to call someone who wasn’t even there when she was needed? But there was an awkwardness in Sue’s voice.
‘How do you mean?’
‘It’s just that, since we got back, he seems less responsive than before. As if he doesn’t want to do anything. Even eating. I had to keep prompting him to take the next mouthful. He’d sit there, looking at the plate, as if he’d forgotten what he was supposed to be doing.’
Marie could think of no immediate response. This sounded worse, a lot worse, than when she’d last seen Liam. There’d been signs of the passivity that the neurologist had warned about. But only occasional and momentary. Small lapses where his attention would seem to wander, or when he’d fail to respond to something she’d said or done. Things you’d hardly notice if you weren’t watching out for them. ‘You think he seems different from before?’
‘A bit, maybe. It’s hard to tell. He’s been very tired today. Maybe he’ll be better tomorrow, when he’s had some proper sleep. You know what it’s like in hospital. You never get a decent rest.’
‘Don’t worry about him calling tonight, then,’ Marie said. ‘I’ll call again tomorrow evening.’
‘I’m back at work tomorrow,’ Sue said, ‘so I’ll just be here for the three formal visits. Might be easiest if I call you when we get here for the evening visit. Then you won’t disturb him if he’s asleep.’
There was nothing Marie could say to this. She felt resentful, as if she were already being excluded from her own home. But Sue’s suggestion was reasonable. ‘Okay, Sue. I’ll make sure the phone’s on tomorrow evening as well. Hope he’s a bit better tomorrow.’
She ended the call and took a large swallow from the wine glass. Christ, this couldn’t go on. She was fooling herself, thinking she could continue in this role, trying to ignore what was happening with Liam. His condition was continuing to deteriorate, faster than she’d ever envisaged. He needed looking after, and she couldn’t simply leave that to Sue, however well-intentioned she might be.
Without noticing it, she’d already finished the glass of wine. There was nothing she could do now. Not tonight. She could sit and think and brood, but that wouldn’t help anyone. Better to put it off, drink some more wine, dig out a trashy DVD. Then think about it properly in the morning when her mind was less tired and fogged.
She poured herself a second glass of wine, raised the glass and stared at it for a moment. Then she downed it in one.
‘What? Hang on.’
Marie rolled over in the bed, tangled in the duvet, trying to work out what time it was. She’d answered the phone before she’d woken properly, the shrill ringtone infiltrating her dream. She dragged herself to a sitting position. ‘Sorry, who is this?’
‘It’s me. Lizzie.’
Lizzie? Who the hell was Lizzie? For a moment, the name rang nothing more than a vague bell.
‘Lizzie from the office.’
Oh, that Lizzie. Lizzie who worked for McGrath. What the hell was that Lizzie doing calling her at – she squinted at the digital clock on the bedside table – 3.40 in the morning?
‘Lizzie. Sorry. Still half-asleep. I didn’t know you had my number.’
‘Andy gave it to me when I was setting up the interview. I put in my phone so I wouldn’t lose it.’ It occurred to Marie, as her mind was gradually clearing, that Lizzie didn’t sound fully in control. There was a shrill edge to her voice. A note of slight hysteria.
‘Is everything okay?’
She could hear Lizzie gulping for air. ‘Really, really sorry to disturb you, Maggie. I didn’t know who else to call–’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘It’s the office. A fire. I’ve just had a call from the company who own the building.’ Another gulp. ‘Everything’s gone, apparently. They’re still fighting the blaze, but that part of the building’s gutted.’
‘Christ. Where’s Andy?’
‘That was why they called me. They’ve been trying to contact Andy for the last hour or so, but his phone’s turned off and there’s no answer on his home line. They had my name and number as a backup, so they called me. Andy’s still not answering.
‘He’s probably asleep,’ Marie said. ‘He’ll have his phone charging or something. I’m sure there’s no need to worry.’
‘That’s what I thought,’ Lizzie said. ‘So I came out to his house. He’s not here. I’ve been ringing the bell. And there’s no sign of his car. He usually leaves it parked outside. That’s why I called you. I didn’t know what else to do.’
‘Maybe he’s staying with friends or something. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.’ She spoke gently to calm the young girl’s evident panic. But her own unease was growing. After her earlier conversation with McGrath, this felt like a hell of a coincidence. ‘Why don’t you get home, Lizzie? We’ll know more in the morning. The police will have tracked Andy down by then.’
‘I can’t just do that. What if something’s happened to him? I was going to head up to the office.’
‘I don’t know if that’s a good idea. The fire service aren’t going to want–’
‘They called me, Maggie. The landlord wanted me to get Andy up there. If I can’t find Andy, I should go myself.’
This was a different sounding Lizzie, Marie thought. Panic subsiding, beginning to rise to the occasion. Taking on responsibility in a way that wouldn’t have seemed possible when Marie first met her. ‘Okay, Lizzie. I’ll come over too. At le
ast we can give each other some moral support. Meet you up there.’
‘Thanks, Maggie. I was really hoping you’d say that.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll see you in twenty minutes or so.’
Marie lay in the semi-darkness, watching the line of light thrown through a gap in curtains from a street light outside. One hell of a coincidence, she thought.
It was unusual for him to be up late. But sometimes, like tonight, he would sit up into the small hours poring over the documents relating to his current assignment. He liked to work through it all systematically, make sure he’d covered every eventuality. He kept the documents no longer than he had to. He would spend the early days of a new assignment working through whatever material his clients had provided – background information, details of home address and place of work, photographs of the target and other relevant individuals. He committed those to memory. When he was confident he had memorised every line, every word in the files, he would painstakingly destroy them, shredding the papers and burning the remnants.
At the same time, he would be adding material of his own. He took endless photographs of the locations where he would be working – his target’s home, workplace, the surrounding areas, places where he might choose to take action. He reviewed the countless images and created detailed, hand drawn plans of the key locations and buildings. He used online mapping tools and satellite images to explore the surrounding area, identifying suitable positions for his purposes. He made detailed notes of his surveillance, identifying patterns and routines of activity, preparing to choose the most appropriate plan of action.
That was what he was doing at four o’clock in the morning. Sitting at the rickety table in the shabby basement flat he was renting. He preferred a house or a flat on the lower floors so that he could come and go however he liked without arousing the interest of other residents. He had enough money to live wherever he wanted, but he had to select places where his temporary presence would not attract attention. These were usually downmarket, occupied by people whose lives were, for whatever reason, as transient as his own.
He didn’t know what made him glance at his phone. It was late. He was finally growing tired. His head was beginning to feel fogged by the data that he’d systematically ingested. He walked through to the kitchen to get a glass of water, trying to decide whether to call it a night. As he stood running the tap, he looked idly at his smartphone. Something led him to open up the application linked to the tracking device on her car.
He’d checked it last around midnight. She’d been safely back at home. He was surprised now to see that the car was moving, the tiny blob making its way along the main road towards the centre of town.
He frowned. It looked as if the car had only recently left the house, probably just a few minutes before. What would have caused her to travel back into town at that time of the night?
For a moment, he was tempted to forget about it. But he couldn’t, for the moment, think of any straightforward reason why she might be out and about at this time of the night. From what he’d seen and knew, she hadn’t struck him as a night bird. She might have left something behind at the office, but he couldn’t imagine what might be so important or essential that it would drag her out of the house in the smallest hours of the morning.
After a few seconds, he made up his mind. Yawning, he grabbed his coat from where he’d flung it on the sofa, pulled it round his shoulders and picked up his car keys from the table.
It might be well be nothing, this nocturnal trip. But it might be something. And if it was something, then he ought to know.
15
She could see a haze of blue lights and smoke between the buildings ahead. She turned off the main road into the business park. Further ahead, there was an array of fire engines and police cars, dark silhouettes standing or running between the vehicles, thick billows of noxious-looking fumes and, through the broken windows of the office building, a glare of flames. Jesus, it looked bad.
She slowed her car, knowing the police would prevent her drawing too close to the burning building. She saw Lizzie’s aged Mini parked by the access road and parked behind it. Lizzie was standing a few yards ahead, outside the line of emergency vehicles, staring at the building. Marie left her car and approached the younger woman. ‘Lizzie. You okay?’
Lizzie looked over her shoulder. Her face was drawn and exhausted, her eyes red. Her expression suggested that Marie was the person she’d most wanted to see in the world. After Andy McGrath anyway, Marie thought.
‘Any word from Andy?’ Marie knew there was no way of avoiding the question.
Lizzie shook her head. ‘I keep trying his mobile, but it’s still off, and his home phone just keeps ringing out. I’ve called the owners – their guy’s over there with the police – but they’ve heard nothing either.’
‘They’ll track him down, Lizzie. Don’t worry,’ Marie said, trying to convey more confidence than she felt.
‘I keep telling myself that,’ Lizzie said. ‘It’s not like he’s Mr Domestic. He’s always out on the tiles.’ She looked a little calmer, as if Marie had provided the reassurance she’d been trying to conjure up for herself.
Marie laughed. ‘Maybe he got lucky.’
‘Yeah, maybe.’ Lizzie smiled for the first time. ‘Wouldn’t be for lack of trying, anyway.’
Marie registered a figure looming out of the darkness towards them. One of the police officers.
‘You two ladies okay?’ he said, in a tone that clearly implied: ‘And what the hell are you doing here?’
‘A bit in shock, actually,’ Marie said. ‘We both work in the building. My colleague here was called out because the landlords weren’t able to track down our boss.’
The policeman hesitated. ‘Where do you work, exactly?’
Marie pointed towards the block still on fire. ‘In that building. We’ve got the ground floor.’
The policeman glanced behind him. ‘Bad news, then, I’m afraid. That area’s pretty much gutted. They’ve got the fire under control now, but it’s done a hell of a lot of damage.’
Marie thought about the paperwork she’d spent the day sorting. One way of dealing with McGrath’s backlog, she thought. She was glad now that she’d removed the few documents that might have some evidential value.
‘Can I take you two ladies’ names and addresses?’ the police-man added. ‘We’ll need to talk to you. And to your boss.’
‘Why us?’ she asked. The answer was obvious, but she was keen to find out how the police were viewing the fire.
‘Just routine. Obviously, we need to investigate any incident of this kind.’
‘You think it might not be an accident?’
‘We can’t rule anything out.’
‘No, I suppose not.’ It had already occurred to Marie that, unless she revealed her true role, her own presence was suspicious. First day in the new job, and the office gets burned to the ground. Any half-decent copper would at least want to investigate the coincidence. She’d leave that one to Salter. It wasn’t her job to break cover.
The two women dutifully gave their names and addresses, and Lizzie added McGrath’s details. ‘You’ve no news of Mr McGrath?’ the policeman asked, as he noted down the information.
‘I’ve been trying to track him down ever since they called me,’ Lizzie said.
‘Lizzie knows him better than I do,’ Marie said. ‘But apparently it’s not entirely unknown for him not to come home after a night out. If you know what I mean.’
The policeman glanced at the building. ‘Hope he’s had a good time. He’ll need something to cheer himself up once he finds out about this lot.’
There was a shout from another police officer running towards them. He stopped short as he caught sight of the two women. ‘Geoff,’ he said, finally. ‘You’re wanted. Developments.’
The first policeman nodded to Marie and Lizzie. ‘Okay, ladies. Can I suggest you get yourselves back home now? There’s nothing you can do here and,
well, it’s never helpful to have civilians cluttering up the scene.’
‘No, of course not.’ Marie was looking past him at the second policeman, trying to read his expression in the darkness. Developments. ‘If we track down Andy – Mr McGrath – we’ll get him to call the landlords, shall we?’
‘Please.’ The policeman was already turning away from them to join his colleague. ‘Goodnight, now, ladies.’
Marie turned to Lizzie. ‘I think we should try to get some sleep. There’s nothing we can do here. Andy’ll turn up in the morning.’
‘Don’t reckon I’ll get much sleep.’
‘There’s a lot to think about. But no point in worrying until we know what the damage is. I presume Andy will have insurance?’
‘You never know with Andy. He’s not the most organised person.’
‘I’ll give you a call in the morning, see if there’s any word from him. Then we can decide what to do next.’ She gently led Lizzie back towards her car. ‘You get off. I’ll see if there’s any chance of getting a word with the landlord’s rep over there. See if he knows what the damage is likely to be.’
‘Okay,’ Lizzie said, doubtfully. She climbed into the car, started the engine and wound down the window. ‘I’ll keep trying Andy’s number. In case he turns it on.’
‘He’ll be asleep, I should think. Wherever he is. But there’s no harm in trying.’
She watched as Lizzie headed off towards the main road. Then she made her way towards the line of emergency vehicles, moving as silently and unobtrusively as she could.
There was a row of trees lining the car park. She moved forward, keeping in the shadow of the trees, drawing as close as she could to the knot of figures clustered around the building. She strained her ears to try to catch something of the discussion taking place between the police and fire officers.
‘…asphyxiation, as far as we can tell. The fire had scarcely touched that room apart from scorching round the door. My guess is he was in there, working or something, and then he heard the noise of the fire. Opened the office door and was met with a wall of flames.’ The speaker, who seemed to be one of the fire officers, paused while someone said something Marie couldn’t hear. ‘Must have done the smart thing and shut the door again. Probably tried to get out through the window.’
