by Val McDermid
‘Oh God, that’s right. I forgot. When he got here, he said he had to go to the TV studios. Jesus, I’m such a fucking fool,’ Carol moaned.
‘No, you’re not, you’re traumatized.’ She looked at her watch. ‘The show’s only been on air for seven minutes. It’s a forty-five-minute programme. The studios are only five minutes from here. It’s going to be OK.’ She heard a voice in her ear and held a hand up to indicate to Carol that she was back on the phone.
‘Hello? It’s me, Becker. Listen, I need your help. We’ve been mounting a major operation against a guy called Tadeusz Radecki. He’s just raped and beaten one of our officers, and we believe he’s planning to kill one of her associates. I haven’t got time to go through the proper channels, but there’s a man’s life on the line here. Can you get mobile and meet me outside Channel Five in twenty minutes? We can tail Radecki from the studios, maybe manage to stop this going down?’
‘Can’t you get KriPo to handle this?’
Petra gave it everything she had. ‘We haven’t got time. Look, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t vital. Radecki and his sidekick Krasic are the worst. Drugs, guns, illegals – they move them all. And they’re killers. They know they’re blown and, if we don’t get them now, we could lose more than a life.’
‘Oh, fuck it. Why not? OK. We’ll see you outside Channel Five in twenty.’
‘I owe you,’ she said.
‘Fucking right you do. See you there.’
She replaced the phone with an enormous sense of relief. ‘I think we’ve got him,’ she said quietly. ‘We know where he is. We can tail him and pray he takes us to Tony in time.’
Carol was on her feet and wobbling towards the bathroom. ‘He must have gone straight to the TV from here. Tony must still be alive.’
‘Where are you going?’ Petra demanded.
‘I’m going for a shower. You’re not leaving me behind.’
‘Don’t be crazy. You need to see a police doctor, we need to take evidence of what he did to you.’
Carol continued on her way, undaunted. ‘This doesn’t matter. We’ve got enough on Radecki to put him away forever. I need to be with you. I need to be sure Tony’s OK.’
‘No way,’ Petra protested. ‘You’re in no fit state to go anywhere. That’s why Marijke’s coming here, to take care of you.’
‘I’m coming with you,’ Carol said stubbornly.
‘There’s no time. I’m leaving now.’ Petra picked up her bag and made for the door.
‘You can’t do this to me, Petra,’ Carol shouted.
‘Yes, I can. Because it’s the right thing. I need to concentrate on catching Radecki and saving Tony’s life. I don’t want to have to worry about you as well. You stay here. I’ll call you as soon as there’s any news.’ She was about to open the door when the intercom buzzed. Petra grabbed the handset. ‘Ja?’ She listened for a moment, then pressed the door-release button. ‘Marijke is on her way up. I’ll call you. I promise, I’ll call you.’
Petra opened the door and walked down the hall to the lift. Not in her wildest imaginings could she have come up with this scenario for her first meeting with Marijke. It was hard to picture anything less romantic than leaving her to comfort a rape victim while Petra went in search of a killer.
The doors opened and the two women faced each other. Petra couldn’t stop the smile. Taller than she’d imagined, but far more attractive in the flesh than in the photographs Marijke had sent her. ‘Hey,’ she said. ‘Your timing is terrible.’
‘I thought you’d be pleased,’ Marijke said huffily.
‘Christ, Marijke! Carol’s been raped, Radecki’s taken Tony prisoner and he’s going to kill him. I can’t think about anything else right now.’
Marijke’s face crumpled in shock. ‘How is this?’
Petra pushed past her into the lift, gabbling all the while. ‘Somehow, Carol’s cover has been blown. I don’t know how, I haven’t had the chance to ask her. Radecki raped her, beat her. She’s in a hell of a mess. I need to try and stop him killing Tony. You have to look after Carol, she shouldn’t be alone.’ She gave Marijke a quick kiss on the lips and gently steered her out of the lift. ‘I’ll call.’ As the lift doors slid closed, she shouted, ‘I’m really pleased you’re here, Marijke.’
Stunned, Marijke stood staring at the brushed steel doors. This wasn’t the encounter she’d fantasized about. She wasn’t sure if her English was to blame, but she thought Petra had told her Carol had been raped and Tony was about to be killed. It was hard to take in. Only a few hours had passed since she had talked to them both on the phone. She raised her eyebrows, shrugged her backpack more firmly on to her shoulder and started looking for 302.
The door was ajar, and she could hear the sound of running water. Marijke stepped inside, closing the door behind her. Now she could hear that it was a shower cascading from behind a door on her left. She put down her backpack and knocked hard enough to be heard over the downpour. ‘Hello?’ she called tentatively.
The water stopped. ‘Marijke?’ a voice said.
‘It’s Marijke, yes.’
‘Come in, it’s not locked.’ The shower resumed. Marijke entered to find a woman she presumed was Carol Jordan leaning against the wall of the shower cubicle, scrubbing herself with a bar of soap. Her face was a mess. The soft tissue had ballooned, her nose was clearly broken and her eyes were shrouded in bruises. That her wet hair was plastered to her head only made it look worse.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Marijke said.
‘I’m doing OK,’ Carol said. ‘Really, I am.’
‘I think you should not be washing yourself like this?’ Marijke said.
‘I’ve been through this once with Petra. This isn’t important. Tony’s what matters now.’ Carol reached up and turned off the water again. ‘Could you pass me a towel? And maybe help me out of here?’
Marijke leapt to her aid, wrapping her in one of the fluffy bath sheets that hung on the rail. ‘I don’t understand what’s happening.’
Carol closed her eyes, exhausted with the effort of standing in the shower. ‘I need to sit down,’ she said. Marijke steered her to the toilet. ‘Get me some clothes from the bedroom, would you? I can’t face going in there just yet. It’s across the hall. Jeans and a sweater, underwear, whatever. I’ll explain, I promise.’
While Marijke was gone, Carol managed to make a reasonable job of drying herself. She could hardly bear the pain when she tried to towel between her legs. She didn’t want to think about the damage Radecki had done to her. There would be the rest of her life to contemplate that.
Marijke came back with an armful of clothes. ‘You don’t just want a dressing gown?’ she said.
‘I’m going out,’ Carol said wearily.
‘I don’t think so,’ Marijke said. ‘You don’t stand properly.’
‘I need to be there,’ Carol said. ‘Will you help me dress?’
‘OK. But you tell me what’s going on, please.’
Carol groaned. ‘It’s a long story. And I don’t know all of it.’
Marijke squatted down and started to put Carol’s socks on. ‘So make a start with what you do know.’
38
The TV company had clearly devoted all their lighting budget to their studios, Petra thought. If any public car park had been this badly lit at night, the customers would have complained it was a mugger’s paradise. Still, she supposed, it was safe enough, given how hard she’d found it to get past the security guards on the gate. If Kamal had been heading for a live TV appearance and not the GeSa, Marlene would never have got to him.
She pushed the search button on the radio, irritated by the inane phone-in that had just started. What was keeping Radecki? The programme must have finished a good fifteen minutes ago. Surely he hadn’t stopped to have a drink with the presenter and his fellow guests? He couldn’t have left already; at night, the only way out of the building was via the back entrance and the car park. Besides, from where she was sitting, she could se
e Radecki’s black Mercedes with the unmistakable profile of Darko Krasic behind the wheel.
God, she hoped they were going to lead her to Tony. And that he was still alive. For all she knew, Radecki could have been lying to Carol. Tony could have been murdered before that Polish bastard turned up at the apartment. What she couldn’t work out was how Carol’s cover had been blown. They’d been so circumspect. How had Radecki connected Tony and Carol? And why had he kidnapped Tony? How had something that was in perfect shape this morning turned into a pile of crap by evening?
Well, maybe they’d get some answers by the end of the night. She had confidence in the arrangements she’d made. There were three other cars out there besides hers. The Shark was driving one of the Special Ops guys. There were two others in an unmarked police car. And the Special Ops commander was driving his own SUV. She hadn’t been best pleased to discover he had Larry Gandle and some other British cop called Morgan on board, but she wasn’t in any position to tell them to fuck off and leave this to the locals. At least all the drivers knew the drill about swapping the tail car at regular intervals. She didn’t think there was any way that Krasic could lose them.
The rear entrance of the studio complex opened and three men walked out, clearly in conversation. She spotted Radecki at once. Normally, she would have alerted the rest of the team, but they’d agreed to keep radio silence. With a pair of villains as sophisticated as Radecki and Krasic, it paid to keep risk to a minimum. And even then, as recent events had proved, they could still wreak havoc.
Radecki shook hands with the other two men and walked briskly to his car. Krasic had the lights on and the engine running before he got there. Petra started her engine as the Merc glided out of its bay and headed for the exit. She followed at a discreet distance, catching up as the barrier rose. The Mercedes turned left, and, as agreed, she turned right, flashing her lights at the other cars. They set off in a staggered convoy while she did a three-point turn in the middle of the street and tagged along behind the SUV.
None of them noticed the black BMW Z8 that fell in behind Petra’s car.
‘That’s them,’ Carol said excitedly as the Mercedes pulled out of the car park. ‘Go, Marijke, go!’
‘Wait a minute. We know Petra and her people will follow. We must make sure we don’t get in the way. If she sees you, she’ll send you home.’ Marijke watched intently, noting the car that had followed the Mercedes was turning round to tuck in behind the three vehicles that had already formed a tail.
‘Now?’ Carol demanded.
Marijke nodded and pulled out. ‘Now is good.’
‘Thanks,’ Carol said again, leaning back in the seat and wishing the pain in her head would subside. She’d swallowed four paracetamol before they came out, but they hadn’t made even a dent in her suffering.
Arguing with Marijke hadn’t helped. The Dutch detective had been adamant that they were staying put, Carol equally adamant that they didn’t have a moment to lose. After a couple of minutes of getting nowhere, Carol had staggered off towards the door. ‘You can’t keep me here against my will,’ she’d said. ‘It’s not your jurisdiction,’ she’d added with a sardonic edge.
‘What are you going to do? Follow him in a taxi?’ Marijke had protested, snatching up her backpack and following Carol out of the apartment.
‘I know where I can get a car.’ She looked at her watch. ‘They’re still on air for another fifteen minutes. A cab to the car, then drive to the studios. I might just be in time.’
‘You’re not thinking about driving?’ Marijke protested.
‘How else am I going to get there?’
‘You’ve got a head injury. You lost consciousness. You could pass out. You could kill yourself.’
Carol shrugged, wincing. ‘Well, there’s one way to avoid that. You drive.’
Marijke had never met anyone more stubborn. She threw her hands in the air. ‘OK. You win. Where’s this car?’
‘Radecki’s apartment. He left the keys for me in case I wanted to use it.’
They were lucky. A cruising taxi passed within a minute of them reaching the street and soon they were standing on the pavement outside Radecki’s building. ‘You’d better get the car,’ Carol said. ‘I look like I’ve already been in a road traffic accident. Just tell the security man you’re me and that Herr Radecki left the keys for his BMW’
Marijke ran off, leaving Carol propped up against the wall. Left alone, with no action to distract her, there was nothing to keep the nightmare at bay. Her mind’s eye betrayed her, flashing up the defiling images she wanted permanently erased from inside her head. Radecki’s face above hers, the tearing invasion of her body, the transformation of something previously enjoyable into an excursion into brutality. The terrible sense of loss that left her feeling bleached and split open. And the tears that leaked from her eyes in spite of her best intentions.
There was nowhere to go to wrench her mind away from it. It was as if her past had been sprayed with defoliant, withering before her eyes to a shrivelled meaningless husk. And the future was something she dare not think about, since a future that didn’t contain Tony promised nothing but sempiternal guilt.
Rescue came in the unlikely form of a BMW roadster roaring up the ramp from the underground garage. Carol limped across the pavement and gingerly lowered herself into the passenger seat. ‘I don’t know the way,’ she said, feeling herself on the point of tears yet again.
Marijke smiled. ‘I do. I asked the car park man. It’s very near, he says. Just a couple of minutes away.’
Carol looked at her watch. ‘We’re going to be too late. The programme finished ten minutes ago.’
‘Well, we better hurry.’ Marijke put her foot down and the car leapt forward.
The car park attendant had been right. The studio was only a few streets away. ‘I bet we’ve missed him,’ Carol said morosely as they parked twenty yards away from the gate.
‘I don’t think so,’ Marijke said. ‘Two of the cars we passed on the way in had a driver sitting inside. And a passenger too, I think.’
Carol closed her eyes and let herself believe. ‘The tag team. Thank you, Petra.’
They hadn’t had long to wait. And now they were part of the convoy that might, just might save Tony’s life.
They had been driving for about twenty minutes, doing exactly what they were supposed to. Every few minutes, the lead vehicle in the tail would turn off down a side street then double back and pick up the rear, leaving a fresh set of headlights in Krasic’s mirror. Petra had no idea where they were headed. The one good thing was that they clearly weren’t making for Radecki’s apartment. That had to increase the chances that they were going to wherever Tony was being held captive.
They’d headed out east along Karl Marx Allee, and now they were on the fringes of Lichtenberg. Petra was second in line, behind the SUV. Suddenly, the Mercedes swung right into a small industrial estate near the railway marshalling yards. The SUV carried straight on, and Petra switched off her lights before she made the turn. She hung well back, keeping the Merc’s tail lights in view. The brake lights burned bright for a moment, then it went dark. Petra turned off her ignition, fearing they might notice her engine, and coasted to a halt. She could see the outline of The Shark’s car in her rear-view mirror, black against the outline of a warehouse. Petra switched off the interior light and got out of the car, avoiding the reflex of slamming it shut. She palmed her Walther and dropped her bag into the driver’s footwell.
Seven shadows loomed up behind her. ‘They’ve stopped just ahead. About fifty yards,’ Petra said in a low voice. ‘We need to check it out. Let’s fan out and come at it front and side. If we’re sure they’ve got Tony in there, I go in first. Special Ops behind me. Shark, you stay outside, cover our backs. Is everybody cool with that?’
The Special Ops commander grinned, his teeth flashing white. ‘Sounds solid. I’ll take the front with you. You two, come up on the left. And you, go with The Shark round on t
he right. We’ll link up at the front if it’s all clear.’
‘We’re coming with you,’ Morgan said.
‘I don’t think so,’ Petra said firmly.
‘Look, I don’t know what the fuck Tony Hill is doing in the middle of my operation, but he’s a British citizen, and I am not taking a back seat here. I’d stake my pension that I’ve done a lot more operations like this than you have, Detective Becker.’
‘Have you got a gun?’ Petra demanded.
‘No.’
‘Then you’re a liability.’
‘I’ll stay well back.’
‘We’re wasting time here,’ the Special Ops commander muttered. ‘Let him come. If he gets shot, it’s not our responsibility.’
Petra threw her hands up in the air. ‘Fine. You come with us, but the desk jockey’ – she pointed at Gandle – ‘goes with The Shark.’
Morgan nodded. ‘OK. So let’s do it.’
Someone yanked one end of the tarpaulin, spilling Tony on to the hard concrete floor. He felt his skin abrade as he skidded off the tarp, but he lay still, apart from his eyes blinking in the sudden light. He didn’t have the energy for more. Radecki was standing in front of him, arms folded, legs apart.
‘You lied to me,’ he said conversationally. ‘Please take that rag out of his mouth, Darko.’
Krasic leaned down and jerked Tony’s underpants from his mouth. He’d become so dehydrated that he felt pieces of skin rip off with them. His tongue felt like a giant salami lying dead in his mouth. Even if he’d had anything to say, he doubted he could manage it.
‘It was a good lie,’ Radecki continued. ‘Part of me almost believed it. I admit, I wanted to believe it. She’s a beautiful woman. Well, I should say, she used to be a beautiful woman. I don’t think her looks are going to work so well for her in the future.’
