Cry Darkness

by Hilary Bonner

  ‘If your dumb brother has passed on his suspicions about you being privy to Paul’s work, then I don’t reckon you’re much safer than Connie. I don’t like to think about what they would do and how quickly they would do it if they suspected that you had stolen Paul’s paper from Mikey. I need to see that paper, Ed. It really could be the key. I’ll get the first flight home I can. And you should come with me. I really don’t think you’re safe here anymore.’

  Jones paused.

  ‘But I don’t suppose you’ve even got your passport with you, have you?’

  ‘Well, actually, yes I have. My passport. And my laptop. Like I said, I wiped the file right off my hard drive, but I’m never sure about leaving footprints. Also I destroyed my mobile before I left, so nobody could follow me that way, and I transferred all its data to my laptop first. I’ve got various other personal papers with me too. I was afraid somebody might break into my flat – search the place …’

  ‘But they think you’re still there.’

  ‘For the moment, I suppose. But, well, to tell the truth, Sandy, I already wasn’t sure that it would be safe for me to go back, not for a bit, anyway. I can’t leave Jasper for long, though, my neighbour’s wonderful, but there is a limit.’

  ‘You may have to, because you’re right. It won’t be long before they find out you’ve given them the slip, and goodness knows what else. You can’t go back to Princeton, Ed. You really can’t.’

  SIXTEEN

  Dom called from a pay phone at eleven p.m. precisely, just as he had promised.

  ‘You alone?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ replied Jones. ‘I’m still with Ed. There’s a lot to tell you. I’ll be back to you and Connie in half an hour. And I’ll have Ed with me.’

  ‘Now just hang on, lady. For a start, we ain’t where you left us.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘No. The place was compromised, right, by the text you took earlier from that dumb-ass. I’ve moved Connie out.’

  ‘So tell me where you are,’ said Jones. ‘I’ll come to you.’

  ‘Not with Ed MacEntee, you won’t. I don’t trust him.’

  Jones sighed. This was absurd. Dom didn’t trust Ed. Jones trusted that Ed was telling the truth, but no longer trusted Ed’s judgement. She certainly didn’t trust Ed’s brother, a boyhood Walter Mitty turned Fed. And she still didn’t entirely trust Dom. She really wasn’t up to these spy games.

  She moved a little away from Ed to continue the call.

  ‘Look, something’s happened that means I need to get back to the UK,’ she told Dom. ‘And I want to take Ed and Connie with me. Nothing you can say to me will convince me that any of us will be really safe until we get out of this damned country.’

  ‘You’re running away, lady, ain’t you?’ said the Dominator accusatively.

  ‘If that’s how you want to look at it, fine.’

  ‘So what’s happened exactly to make it so danged important that you get outa here?’ Dom asked. ‘It’s something MacEntee has said, ain’t it? Has to be.’

  Jones sighed, gave in, and treated Dom to an edited version of Ed’s story. She particularly did not tell Dom about the copy of Paul Ruders’ work which Ed had acquired and posted to England – the real reason she wanted to return home. She’d become so paranoid about being spied upon and tailed and phones being tapped and traced that she was not about to take any more risks. She would tell Connie when she next saw her.

  Instead she simply told Dom that she needed to get back to her power base, to the place where she had access to and influence over people in high places because of who she was. It didn’t sound very convincing, even to Jones, and it certainly didn’t make much of an impression on the Dominator.

  ‘Oh yeah, getting a fast cab to Downing Street as soon as you land, are you?’ asked the big man.

  Jones ignored that.

  ‘Look Dom, I’m not doing any good here,’ she said. ‘I can’t cope with all this. And I’m pretty damned sure I can do one hell of a lot more back home now. It’s not just my safety we’re talking about here, it’s Ed’s and Connie’s. I told you. I want to take Connie with me. As soon as it can be arranged. I want to make sure she’s safe. Can you help with that, Dom? Can you get hold of papers? You know. A passport in another name. Stuff like that?’

  ‘What do you take me for, lady?’

  ‘Connie and Marion say you can fix almost anything.’

  ‘Oh yeah? When you planning to leave, anyway?’

  ‘As soon as possible. Tomorrow, if I can.’

  ‘And with a new passport for Connie already freshly minted? You gotta be kidding me. Connie won’t go with you, anyway. No chance. She won’t leave the country while Marion’s in hospital on the critical list.’

  Jones feared that Dom might be right. She knew she was beaten. For the moment, at any rate.

  ‘All right,’ she said. ‘But look, you’ve still got my bag, I hope?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I need it.’

  This time Jones had her passport and credit cards with her. But her personal cell phone, which she hadn’t dared use for two days, her laptop, her house keys, and the keys to her car waiting at Heathrow Airport, were all in the hold-all.

  ‘Too bad. If you’re gonna quit, then why don’t you just get your ass outta here? Leave me to look after Connie.’

  ‘Dom, you have to trust me on this. There are things I can do in the UK. Things that might help. But I do need my bag. Look, if you don’t want me to come to you, won’t you please bring it to me?’

  There was a pause.

  The Dominator appeared to be convinced that he was all that was standing between Connie Pike and death, yet only hours earlier Jones had been equally convinced that Dom was the villain of the piece and had fled at speed halfway across Manhattan in order to get away from him. Now she didn’t know what to believe. Not about anything.

  ‘I’m sorry, I got Connie somewhere real safe, and I don’t intend to leave her whilst I run errands for you, lady. I didn’t even like leaving her to make this phone call, to tell the truth.’

  ‘Look, Dom,’ Jones persisted. ‘Surely you can get my stuff to me somehow? You’re a man of initiative, aren’t you?’

  Jones heard the Dominator give a derisory snort. That’s what it sounded like, anyway.

  ‘OK, I’ll ask Gaynor,’ he said. ‘I’ll have to call you back. Give me ten minutes.’

  ‘Right. And Dom, you will tell Connie I want her to come with me, won’t you? I want her to have the chance to get out of this country before she gets hurt again.’

  ‘OK,’ said the Dominator again. ‘Although how the hell we’d ever do that thing, only the Lord God Almighty knows.’

  Jones suspected the big man was probably right about that too. She ended the call and glanced at her watch. It was nearly twenty past eleven.

  After almost exactly ten minutes Dom called again.

  ‘Gaynor will meet you with your bag in an hour and a half,’ Dom instructed. ‘In the financial district, by the Stock Exchange, on Wall Street. Know it?’

  Jones affirmed that she knew it. Dom gave a precise cross street.

  Jones checked the time. ‘That’s about one o’clock then,’ she said. ‘Why Wall Street?’

  ‘It’s near where she works.’

  ‘What does she do at that time of night, for Chrissake?’

  ‘Just make sure you’re there,’ replied the big man. ‘She can’t hang about.’

  He hadn’t answered Jones’s question. Jones didn’t really care. She just wanted to get away. With or without Connie. Maybe Dom was right. Maybe she was running.

  She returned to Ed, climbing into the borrowed car alongside him. She gave him a brief version of her conversation with Dom, and the details of the planned meeting with Gaynor, suggesting he follow her Ford in his car.

  ‘I think we should stick together, but, if possible, not be seen together,’ she said. ‘There’s no hurry though, we’ve got a bit of time to k
ill.’

  They passed a few minutes discussing what might be the safest way to leave the States.

  ‘I’ve got some cash, enough for us both to travel to the UK without using credit cards, I reckon,’ said Jones. ‘But anyway, nobody’s looking for you yet, we hope. And I’m banking on the bastards just wanting to see the back of me.’

  She reached into the pocket of her leather jacket and removed a business card.

  ‘Just in case something happens, and we get separated, these are all my contact details at home and I’ll write the number of the burner on the back. Emergency use only.’

  Jones rummaged further in her pocket.

  ‘You got a pen?’ she enquired.

  Ed nodded, and produced a smart black and gold customized roller-ball, with his name inscribed along the side, which he handed to her. As she wrote Jones issued further instructions.

  ‘Just don’t let this card fall into the wrong hands. Also, I still don’t know whether I absolutely trust Gaynor and Dom. Keep a fair ways behind me and park up so as she can’t see you, yeah?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Gaynor was already at the appointed meeting place when Jones arrived, with Ed following at a distance as directed. Parking wasn’t difficult. The financial district was deserted. At night this part of New York, which was so busy during the day, was eerily empty. Like a ghost town. A column of steam fountained steadily from a nearby manhole. Ed drove past Jones when he pulled to a halt at the appointed spot, and, just as he’d suggested, continued slowly on, turning left into a side street at the next junction.

  Gaynor got out of her car as soon as she saw Jones arrive, and began to walk towards her, already carrying Jones’s bag which she held out with one hand.

  ‘Here you are.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Jones said, reaching to take it.

  Gaynor was wearing a tan jacket over jeans and tooled cowboy boots. She looked every bit as stylish as she had when Jones had first met her. She also looked remarkably alert for very nearly the middle of the night.

  ‘I have a message from Connie,’ she said. ‘She says there is no way she can go with you, but she wishes you luck.’

  ‘Is that all?’

  ‘What are you looking for? Absolution? You’re running out on her, aren’t you?’

  Jones said nothing. She had no intention of trying to explain herself to Gaynor. In any case she had her own doubts about her motivation. She turned to go. Gaynor called after her.

  ‘Wait. She asked me to give you this.’

  Jones swung round to face Gaynor again, and took from her the small flat circular object she was holding out between one thumb and forefinger. Jones laid it in the palm of her right hand. A host of half-forgotten memories returned again as she looked down at an enamelled button badge that had originally been predominantly blue. The edges were badly chipped and much of the enamel had worn off. The message was still clear enough though.

  Jones re-read the familiar words. ‘Subvert the Dominant Paradigm’. It was a badge just like the one Connie had given her on her first visit to RECAP. Jones hadn’t seen her old badge for years, and had absolutely no idea where it was, or indeed if she still had it. Conversely it was just like Connie, twenty-five years later and under such extraordinary circumstances, to be able to produce one of the badges from nowhere. Or more likely from that cloth shoulder bag which was always with her.

  Jones felt her eyes well up. This was not the time to be emotional. She had a journey to make which was not going to be easy. Then she had work to do. Important work. She owed that to Connie. Connie had sent her a message in the form of that badge. A message which she reckoned told her exactly what her job was now. To subvert the dominant paradigm. That had always been Connie Pike’s predominate aim in life. Jones had never quite had the courage. Not so far, anyway.

  She looked up at Gaynor.

  ‘How’s Marion?’ she asked.

  ‘The same. Still critical. Still alive though. And that’s a result.’

  Jones nodded. ‘I know. I saw what happened to her. Remember?’

  ‘I remember,’ said Gaynor.

  Jones was going to say more. The sound of the radio from Gaynor’s car, the driver’s door of which stood open, stopped her in her tracks. She registered at once that this was no ordinary radio.

  It sounded like a police radio.

  Gaynor looked over her shoulder, took a step back towards the car, then turned to Jones again. Jones felt as if she had been punched in the face. Stark realization flooded over her.

  ‘Who the fuck are you?’ she asked through clenched teeth.

  ‘I’m Dom’s girl, Connie’s friend, and your friend too. That’s all you have to know.’

  ‘Oh no it’s damned well not!’ Jones took a step forwards, and rather to her own surprise, reached out and grabbed hold of Gaynor by both shoulders. Her hold-all fell to the ground with a thud. Jones ignored it. Instead she began to shake Gaynor backwards and forwards, the anger and fear pouring out of her.

  ‘Who the fuck are you?’ she yelled.

  ‘All right. Take your hands off me or, so help me God, I’ll break your fucking neck.’

  Gaynor’s eyes were hard and narrow. Even in her state of near hysteria Jones believed that Gaynor was quite capable of doing what she had promised. Jones didn’t remove her hands from Gaynor’s shoulders, however. Instead she froze. Not for the first time recently.

  The next thing she was aware of was searing pain as Gaynor delivered a smart karate chop, smashing the edge of her hands against Jones’s lower arms in order to bounce them away from her. In more or less one fluid movement, she freed herself from Jones’s grasp and turned her around, holding on to her left arm which she then forced upwards at a quite impossible angle behind Jones’s back.

  All Sandy Jones’s remaining strength seemed to seep from her. She slumped meekly in Gaynor’s grasp, which the other woman slackened only slightly.

  ‘Just tell me who you are, will you?’ Jones asked hoarsely.

  ‘I’m Detective Gaynor Jackson of the New York Police Department, and if you don’t behave your goddamned self I’m gonna arrest you for assaulting a police officer, you over-educated sap. Whether Dom likes it or not.’

  Jones felt completely beaten. Not for the first time in the last few days. What the hell did this mean? Dom’s girl was a cop? No wonder she had been able to find out about Marion’s condition with such apparent ease.

  Abruptly Gaynor let go of Jones altogether. Jones had no feeling at all in her left arm, but when she found that she could move again, she began to back off towards her car. She just wanted to get away from Gaynor.

  ‘Haven’t you forgotten something?’

  Gaynor was pointing to the hold-all, still lying on the pavement. Obscurely Jones found herself hoping her laptop hadn’t been damaged when she’d dropped it. She took a few steps back towards Gaynor, watching her all the while, bent down and picked the bag up.

  Her brain was beginning to work again, albeit sluggishly, and she didn’t at all like the thoughts which were flooding it. Her fears for Connie’s safety in the care of a former World Series wrestler and his girlfriend were growing greater by the second.

  ‘I assume it was no accident that neither you nor Dom thought to mention before that you were a police detective,’ she said.

  ‘No accident at all.’

  She was cool. Jones had to admit that.

  ‘Some people are inclined to react negatively when they find out you’re a cop,’ Gaynor remarked.

  ‘Yes. Particularly if those “some people” are on the run, and they’re not even sure who they’re running from, but almost certainly, at this stage any rate, it includes the police.’

  Gaynor reached out and put a hand on Jones’s shoulder. Involuntarily Jones flinched away.

  ‘Look Sandy, Dom and I are a team. I trust him. He trusts me. That comes before my job.’

  ‘Does it? How can it? I’m a fugitive.’

  ‘Actually no. And
neither is your friend Ed. Not from the law I stand for. I make my own decisions. It’s simple. I dislike people who do bad things. That’s why I became a cop. And if people doing bad things, planting bombs and mowing down innocent women in the street, if they operate from within the various forces that are actually supposed to be upholding the law, protecting innocent men and women, then I dislike them even more. OK?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe you tipped someone off about Connie. I can’t believe Dom told you about her. A cop, for heaven’s sake.’

  ‘Yep. A cop Dom trusts as much as Marion and Connie trust him.’

  ‘Well, I don’t trust either of you. I want you to take me to Connie now. I don’t want to leave her.’

  ‘No, Sandy. Get yourself a flight back to London. Get the hell out of here. Take your friend. And do what you can to find out what lies behind this damned awful business. That’s your strength, Sandy. You told Dom that, didn’t you? You might be running, but I guess it’s the right thing for you to do. Let’s face it, you’re not exactly action woman, are you?’

  Jones looked away. She could just make out what she thought must be the tail lights of Ed’s car parked around the corner facing down town. She felt defeated. As if whatever she decided to do next was bound to turn out wrong.

  A lone black sedan cruised slowly down Wall Street towards them, its headlamps dimmed. Jones was vaguely aware of it, seeing it only out of the corner of her eye, her mind elsewhere. She really didn’t want to leave Connie behind.

  The black sedan coasted to a halt, just a few yards away, right behind Jones’s own borrowed vehicle. Its lights dimmed further and then went out. Jones turned around to get a proper look. Even the windows seemed to be matt black. Jones strained her eyes but still could not see inside, even though the spot where the sedan was now parked was quite brightly lit. It dawned on her that the car’s windows were tinted. Jones glanced towards Gaynor. She was looking at the sedan too. Jones followed her gaze as the driver’s door slowly opened. At first nobody emerged. Jones swung round to look at Gaynor again. She watched as Gaynor slipped her hand inside her jacket. With an increasing sense of horror, it dawned on Jones that Gaynor was probably reaching for a gun.