“Are you ready?” Val called from the hallway.
“Yes,” I replied, my voice squeaking under the strain. I repeated my answer, this time at my normal pitch.
The clunk of the latch opening reached my ears. The sound of muffled voices travelled through the open doorway, but I couldn’t make out the words above the pounding of my pulse. Footsteps approached along the hallway. I tightened my grip on the knife.
“It’s okay, Alex,” Val said as she stuck her head around the door. Her eyes widened as she took in the shiny blade clamped in my hand. “Ah … you should probably leave that in here.”
I locked my gaze on her face. She gave me a smile of encouragement as I deposited the makeshift weapon on the kitchen table. Val stood back to allow me to pass.
“They’re in the dining room,” she said.
I ran my tongue over dry lips. Suddenly, the house seemed far too hot. I wiped a bead of sweat from my forehead as I followed the corridor towards the open doorway. Drawing nearer, I picked up a whispered conversation. Whoever had been speaking stopped at the sound of my feet shuffling on the carpet.
When I entered the room, I was met by the astonished gaze of the two men I had observed from across the street.
“Mr Parrott,” the man in the jacket said, failing to hide his surprise.
“Were you expecting somebody else?” I asked.
“No, it’s just … In our line of business, we receive a lot of false leads, so we weren’t too hopeful you’d actually be here. Let me introduce myself; I’m Josh Nixon. This is my assistant, Andy Parker.”
Both men shook my hand.
“Shall we get on with this?” Val said from behind me. The journalists moved around to the opposite side of the table and sat. Val took a seat beside me.
“Do you mind if we record this?” Nixon asked, pulling a compact recorder from his jacket pocket.
I looked sideways at Val. She shrugged.
“I suppose that’s okay,” I replied.
“Mrs Devine told me somebody set you up, and you’re not responsible for any of the recent murders which the police are claiming you committed. Can you tell us what really happened?”
Up to that point, I hadn’t known Val’s surname. The new information threw me off my stride for a moment. “Um … well, like you said, I didn’t kill anybody.”
I started by telling them about the note I had found and the visit by the two policemen. I omitted my brother-in-law, Jamie, from the start of the story, but when it came to the part where Nick turned up at the Internet café, Nixon stopped me.
“You’re saying somebody hired a hitman to protect you? Who placed the protection contract?”
“Ah … I’d rather not say at the moment.”
The journalist studied me for a few seconds, his forehead creased in a frown. “Is there any proof that this dark website exists?”
“We’ve got screenshots on my laptop,” Val said. “We copied them across yesterday. If you want, we should be able to log in.”
Nixon exchanged a glance with his assistant then turned back to me. “We’d like to have a look, but I’d prefer you to finish the story first.”
I went on to describe how Nick had chased me and subsequently convinced me he was there to help. Nixon halted my account again when I came to the killing of the woman in the flat.
“You witnessed this man committing the murder?”
“That’s right. After that he tried to kill me by throwing me off the balcony. If Nick hadn’t turned up when he did, I’d have been the one they discovered dead on the pavement.”
“This Nick person—can we have a chat with him?”
I shook my head. “He was adamant he wouldn’t talk to anybody.”
“But you know who he is, don’t you?” he said, turning to Val.
She hesitated before replying. “Yes. He’s a friend, and he definitely won’t do any press interviews.”
“How do you happen to be acquainted with a hitman?” Nixon asked. “Is he your partner, or maybe one of his friends from the army?”
The journalist studied Val’s shocked face with a hint of amusement. “I couldn’t help but notice the photographs around the room of a man in military uniform,” he explained.
“My husband died in Afghanistan,” Val replied, frowning, “and I’m not going to tell you who my friend is.”
Nixon held up his hands in a placatory gesture. “Never mind. So, Alex—can I call you that?—a mystery hitman turned bodyguard brought you here, and you had nothing to do with any of the murders.”
I nodded. “That’s correct.”
The journalist scratched his chin. “I believe you, but the big problem is there’s no proof. You won’t tell me who placed the protection contract, and the one person who can corroborate some of your story isn’t prepared to talk to the press. I don’t understand why you haven’t just turned yourself in to the police.”
“Two of them framed me, and my brother-in-law told me I couldn’t trust them.” The words were out of my mouth before I realised what I had done.
Nixon sat back triumphantly. “Let me guess; your brother-in-law is the one who placed the contract to protect you.”
I inhaled deeply and met his smug gaze. This man was an expert at getting answers. I needed to be more careful when answering his questions. “Like I said earlier, I’d rather not say. The two policemen who came to my house knew exactly where to look. They’re definitely involved.”
“But you don’t know their names?”
“No.”
“And you’re not a paedophile?”
My breathing quickened, and my ears glowed with heat. “Absolutely not. Until a week ago, I was a schoolteacher, happy in my job. Now, I’m the most wanted man in Britain, accused of murdering half a dozen people including my own mother. Doesn’t that sound a bit strange to you?”
Nixon’s expression softened. “You may be right. It does seem peculiar, but I’ve seen a lot of weird cases over the years. My team have done their research on you, and there’s nothing in your past to suggest you’re capable of committing these crimes. The problem I have is that you have no alibi.”
“What about the website screenshots?” Val asked.
“We’ll have a peek at those in a minute,” Nixon replied. “But let’s face it, for all we know, you could have created the site yourself.”
I slumped forward, resting my chin on my hands. All the optimism had drained from my body. “Look, if you’re not interested, I may as well hand myself in to the police and be done with it.”
“Hang on a sec; I never said I wasn’t interested. I already told you I believe you. This is the biggest news story of the year, maybe even the decade. We just need to work out how to tell it.”
Val reached out an arm and gently rubbed my back.
I raised my head in renewed hope. “Okay, but where do we go from here?”
“Let’s see this website,” Nixon replied.
Val opened the lid of the laptop. The two journalists came around the table. I rose to my feet and offered Nixon my chair. Parker stood behind him, peering over his shoulder. First, she took them through the screenshots.
“Can we take copies?” Nixon asked.
Val glanced back at me. “I don’t see why not,” I replied, “but only when we’ve agreed a contract.”
I noted a slight stiffening of the journalist’s posture. After Val had run through the captured pages, she suggested we connect to the live site. She retrieved the shiny disk from the drawer and slotted it into the tray on the side of the laptop as she had done the previous day.
“What are you doing?” Nixon asked.
“I’m booting from a Linux DVD,” she replied. “It’s a way to make sure there’s no unwanted software running.”
The journalists watched as she downloaded the Tor browser and installed it. When the startup sequence completed, she transposed the page address from the scrap of paper she had removed from her purse. The cursor rotated … and c
arried on rotating. Eventually, an error box popped up: “Unable to connect”.
Frowning, Val typed in the letters a second time. Once again, the same message appeared.
“Is it connected to the Internet?” I asked.
“Yes,” she snapped. “The site’s down.”
“But it was—”
“I know, but it isn’t working now.”
The two journalists exchanged a glance. They said nothing; they didn’t need to.
Chapter 49
“That went okay,” I said.
“Hmm. It could have gone better,” Val replied, sitting next to me.
While she was seeing off the journalists, I had made another attempt to access the website again with no luck.
“Why do you think the page is down?”
“Who knows? Maybe the person running it has cold feet. By the way, why were you reluctant to tell them about your brother-in-law?”
I hesitated as I tried to rationalise my feelings. “I guess it’s because Jamie helped me. He saved my life, so I didn’t want to drop him in it.”
Val raised an eyebrow. “Call it a hunch, but I’m not sure you fooled them.”
I gave a short laugh. “You might be right. But they did agree to leave him alone for the time being.”
“I liked your idea about how to provide proof you’re telling the truth,” she said.
“I’m going to look pretty stupid if it doesn’t work. On the positive side, this whole thing will be over by the end of tonight.”
My eyes tracked the fingers of Val’s left hand as she twisted her wedding ring. She looked up and met my gaze as she spoke. “Are you sure you want to go through with this plan? You’ll be putting yourself in a lot of danger.”
“What’s the alternative? I could always turn myself in. Let’s face it, it’ll be dangerous either way. At least doing it like this, there’s a chance to prove my innocence.”
“That won’t do you much good if you die though, will it?”
“You’re right, but I could wind up dead whatever I do. We’re still dependent on Mr Nixon and his friends holding up their side of the bargain. But can we trust them?”
Val stared at me for a second before answering. “We have little choice.”
“At least they agreed to pay for a legal team.”
“I think they would have paid more, but it’s your decision.”
Josh Nixon had made a brief telephone call at the end of our meeting and confirmed that the newspaper would fund the cost of lawyers for my defence if the case came to court. In exchange, I consented to an exclusivity deal for my story over the next three days. The photographer would shoot his photos before the main event that evening.
For the rest of the morning, Val and I loitered around the house. We talked about everything under the sun from films to favourite foods. At three o’clock exactly, she replaced the battery in the back of the mobile phone. It may have been a pointless precaution to leave it unpowered until then, but Nick’s words of warning still rung in our ears.
At two minutes past the hour, the electronic trill of the ringtone broke the silence. Val snatched up the handset and tapped the answer icon.
“Oh, hi Josh,” she said.
“Josh?” I mouthed silently, raising my shoulders in question.
Val scowled at me. “… Yes, he’s here.” She listened for several seconds.
“… Okay. We’ll be there at eight thirty. And you’re sure you can keep him safe?” Her eyes locked on mine.
“… Right. No, we won’t forget. I’ll see you there. ‘Bye.”
She ended the call and removed the battery.
“I take it from that, it’s on,” I said.
She nodded. “I assume you heard the time.”
“Yes. And the location is as we suggested?”
“Yeah, but we could have set it up here,” Val said.
“No, that wouldn’t have worked. There has to be no doubt about where I am. They don’t know about your house, at least I hope not. We’re in trouble if they do.”
“I just pray we’ve made the right decision.”
“You’re not the only one,” I replied.
The rest of the day seemed to tick by incredibly slowly. Val prepared an omelette for our evening meal, but I had no appetite. Tendrils of fear wormed their way through my stomach, replacing any sense of hunger as the deadline drew nearer. I became conscious of my laboured breathing, the acrid scent of my own sweat. This must be how a condemned man felt, waiting out the last few hours before his execution.
Despite my dread of what lay ahead, it came as something of a relief when Val announced it was time to leave.
“Do I need to go in the boot again?” I asked, my heart dropping. The prospect of spending an hour in cramped, pitch black confinement filled me with gloom.
“No, I think it’ll be fine if you lie across the back seat.”
I sighed in gratitude. “Thank God for small mercies.”
“Have you got everything?”
I lifted the laptop bag. “It’s all in here. Do you have the postcode?”
She showed me her mobile. “Let’s go.”
I followed Val through the door into the garage and let myself into the rear of the Corsa while she raised the metallic door. The suspension rocked slightly as she sank into the driver’s seat.
“Are you alright back there?” she asked over her shoulder.
“Never better,” I replied.
She twisted the key in the ignition, and the engine rumbled into life. Moments later, we were zipping along the road. The journey passed uneventfully. We spoke little as I contemplated what lay ahead. The satnav application gave clues to our progress, but after a while, I stopped listening, lost in my thoughts. Eventually, Val stated we were five minutes away.
“Go down the drive and park as close as you can to the back door,” I said.
We drove in silence until the female voice emanating from Val’s mobile announced we had arrived at our destination. The car turned and slowed. Gravel crunched beneath the wheels as we drew to a halt.
“We’re here,” Val said.
“Is anybody around?”
“Not that I can see.”
I reached for the handle and scrambled across the seat. Once my feet were on the ground, I pulled the bunch of keys from my pocket. A gust of wind ruffled my hair as I fiddled with the lock. Seconds later, I was standing in my dead mother’s kitchen.
“I think you should move the car,” I said as Val followed me inside. “The neighbours will be suspicious if they see a strange vehicle outside. Go up the road and park it somewhere near the end.”
Val retraced her steps. I watched as the Corsa reversed past the window. The tyres crackled on the small stones covering the drive. It was a dull, blustery day, and dark clouds scudded across the sky. Dusk was falling, but I didn’t want to alert anybody to our presence, so I resisted the urge to turn on the lights. I checked my watch; we were fifteen minutes early.
I waited by the sink until Val’s windswept figure returned. She let herself in through the back door and joined me in the poorly illuminated room.
“There’s a bad smell in here,” she said, wrinkling her nose.
Now she had mentioned it, I too detected the sickly-sweet odour of decomposition. The foulness increased in strength as I raised the lid of the cylindrical, steel pedal bin.
She held her hand in front of her face. “That’ll be it.”
Normally, I would have dumped the contents in the outside wheelie bin, but an attentive neighbour might notice if I left the confines of the house. Instead, I removed the plastic liner and tied a knot before dropping it by the back door. The foul miasma still lingered afterwards.
“Why don’t we wait in the lounge?” I said, eager to escape the assault on my nostrils.
Val folded her arms tightly across her chest. “Okay,” she replied, following me down the hallway. My hand automatically reached for the light switch as we entered the room
, but I stopped myself just in time.
We sat at opposite ends of the beige, high-backed sofa. In the deepening gloom, the branches of the large oak tree in the corner of the garden swayed under the force of the wind. We waited in silence, ears straining for any sound of movement above the hiss of the leaves. As the seconds ticked slowly by, I allowed my mind to wander. Had my mother been sitting here when her murderer arrived? Did she open the door to him, or did he sneak up on her? Would I suffer a similar fate at the hands of the same killer?
The crunch of footsteps on gravel shook me out of my morbid thoughts. I peered into the gloomy twilight. The journalists were here.
Half an hour later, we were all set.
Chapter 50
The handle turned, and the door moved inwards. A tremor ran through me. I was the tethered goat, and the tiger had arrived to collect its prey.
The room flooded with light. I blinked in the sudden glare.
“Hello, Percy. Fancy seeing you here.”
My vision gradually adjusted to the increase in brightness. I immediately recognised the man who had spoken. He clutched a pack of cigarettes in his right hand. I studied him from my position on the sofa as he tapped a cigarette out and lit it. He blew out a cloud of smoke and stepped into the room to make space for his taller partner. The two men were dressed similarly in jeans and long-sleeved shirt. Each carried a rucksack on his back.
“Little and large,” I said. “You never did tell me your names. Are you really policemen?”
“You’ve led us quite a merry dance,” the smoker said, ignoring my question. “I have to admit this is one of the least likely places I expected to find you. Come to pay our last respects, have we?”
An influx of anger surged through my body. “Are you the ones who killed my mother?”
“If you’d handed yourself in like a good little boy, nothing would have happened to her.”
My eyes followed the taller man as he strolled towards the window. “Let’s keep this private,” he said, dragging the curtains together. “After all, we don’t want the neighbours looking in, do we?”
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