A Good Day To Die

by Simon Kernick

  ‘My wallet’s in my jacket pocket,’ he spluttered. ‘Take it, please.’

  ‘No thanks, Theo,’ I said. ‘I’ve got a better idea. I’m going to ask you a question and you’re going to answer it truthfully. Otherwise I’m going to shoot you in the face right now, then drop you in the back seat and let you bleed to death while I drive your nice flash car out of here.’

  I waited for Theo Morris to protest, to tell me he didn’t know what the hell I was talking about, but he said nothing, just whimpered slightly. His expression slackened, or maybe it was just the way the silencer was pushed against him, but I knew that he was aware that I was the man he’d either been trying to have killed or framed these past few days, and I could tell that he wasn’t going to bother playing the innocent. I also had a feeling that he wanted to unburden himself. It was something in his eyes. Defeat? Guilt? Probably both. This guy was no ruthless pro. He might have been good at handing out orders from the comfort of his air-conditioned office, but he wasn’t the sort to get his hands dirty. Somehow that made him worse.

  ‘What’s the question?’ he asked after a long pause.

  ‘I think you know, but I’ll ask it anyway. When you sent those men to kill Les Pope on Sunday, and to kill Andrea Bloom at her home in Hackney yesterday, on whose authority were you acting?’

  ‘Oh, God ...’

  ‘He can’t help you now, Theo. Only you can help you.’

  ‘I swear I didn’t know it would end like this. I didn’t ask for the bloodbath last night. I just wanted Crown to shut the girl up. How was I to know he was such a bloody psychopath?’

  ‘Crown? Was he the blond guy? The one who was sent to meet me on Saturday with the ticket back to the Philippines?’ Theo tried to nod, but it was difficult in the position he was in. ‘Well, Crown’s dead now. And so will you be unless you answer my question.’

  He paused again and I leaned forward and pushed harder on the gun. His cheek began to go red and he grunted in pain.

  ‘My boss,’ he said. ‘The company’s CEO, Eric Thadeus. He got me to organize it. I wouldn’t have done it, but—’

  ‘But he paid you well, no doubt.’

  ‘I told you, I honestly didn’t know that it would end up like it did. I didn’t want it to get messy.’

  Theo Morris was only a little guy, and slightly built, too, apart from round the belly area. But I guessed that when he was in the boardroom he was full of confidence and swagger. This was definitely a man who lived his life knowing he was one of the top guys in his closeted little world, a big fish in the corporate pond. Only now, as he sat here helpless with me, was he discovering that true power came not from the influence you held amongst your kind, but from the barrel of the gun, and unfortunately for Theo, he was facing down the wrong end of it.

  ‘Where’s Eric Thadeus tonight?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Yes, you do. Don’t lie. There’s no point. Whatever he’s promised you that you haven’t already got, you’re not going to get now, so don’t waste your time protecting him. He’s finished, and you’re staying with me until I find out where he is.’

  ‘He’s at his place in Bedfordshire. He’s staying there until tomorrow. After that he’s flying out to another of his homes in the Bahamas for a couple of weeks.’

  I kept the gun where it was for a couple of seconds, then decided he was telling the truth, and removed it from his face, positioning it instead across my lap with the silencer still pointing in his direction.

  ‘All right, turn off the car phone.’ He did as he was told. ‘Now start driving. We’re going to Bedfordshire.’

  Theo looked at me like I was mad. ‘He’s got security there.’

  ‘I’m sure he has. Start driving.’

  I think he knew there was no point in arguing or begging for his life, so he put the car in reverse, pulled out of his space and settled once again for telling me he’d never wanted it to end like this.

  I told him to shut up. I really wasn’t interested.

  The drive was long, silent and uneventful. Theo tried only once to make conversation but barely managed a few words before I cut him off and put the radio on, turning the volume up. I didn’t want to hear anything from him – not small talk, not excuses. Nothing. As far as I was concerned, he was as guilty as all of them.

  I tried not to think, working hard to empty my mind of all its fears and doubts. I’d been betrayed, and betrayed badly; I was trapped in a country in which I’d been a fugitive from the law for three years. If I was captured, I’d be lucky to see the outside of a prison cell again. If I escaped, I wasn’t at all sure I could go back to where I’d come from and carry on as before in business with a man I’d once trusted, but who now had questions of his own to answer. Tomboy Darke had relationships with people who’d been involved in some horrific acts, and things between us could never be the same again. But now wasn’t the time to dwell on that.

  The radio station we listened to as Theo drove was Magic FM, which specializes in easy listening tunes. They played ‘The Boys Of Summer’ by Don Henley, followed by a couple of old Elvis Presley numbers. Neither of us sang along, although Theo appeared to relax a little and his driving became less erratic. I noticed that he was still sweating, which was understandable.

  At eight o’clock, the news came on. As Magic was a London-based station, the top story was the massacre at Andrea Bloom’s place the previous evening. Theo sighed loudly and tutted as the newsreader reported that two men and two women had been stabbed and bludgeoned to death at a house in Hackney, in what she called ‘another terrifying tale from the violent city’. The identities of the victims had not yet been released and the police were keeping an open mind regarding the motive, which usually meant they didn’t have a clue. There was no mention of Barron’s death in Wembley, but no doubt this would follow soon enough.

  I lit a cigarette, sat back and watched Theo as he drove us up the M1 in the direction of Bedfordshire.

  A little over an hour later, some ten minutes after we’d pulled off the motorway, we passed through a pretty village which was little more than a collection of houses and a church, and took a left-hand turn. The road started to climb up a tree-lined hill, and large detached houses appeared on both sides, all set back from the road, the majority behind imposing gates. It was a fitting spot for the wealthy to live in, allowing them to look down on the rest of the village from their superior position.

  ‘How far?’ I asked Theo.

  ‘We’re almost there.’

  ‘Point it out to me as we pass, but keep driving.’

  ‘There it is,’ he said half a minute later as the road began to flatten out. He was pointing to a whitewashed stone wall about ten feet high coming up on our left. As we passed the wrought-iron gates, I caught a glimpse of the house itself, which stood at the end of a long drive. It was a huge, Elizabethan-style double-fronted mansion, with latticed bay windows and tar-blackened wooden beams running from roof to ground.

  Several more houses followed on the left, before giving way to woodland. About a hundred yards further on, I spotted a single-lane track veering off into the trees. ‘Pull down there,’ I ordered Theo.

  He did as he was told and his face took on a panicked look. This was the end of the line for him, the point at which he’d find out whether he was to live or die.

  Twenty yards down the track I told him to pull over onto the verge.

  ‘I’m not going to say a word about this, you know,’ he told me as he brought the Jaguar to a halt. ‘I don’t want the police involved any more than you do.’

  ‘What sort of security does Thadeus have at this place?’

  ‘I’ve only been up here a couple of times. On those occasions, he had a night watchman, but that’s it. He’s also got cameras in the grounds.’

  I thought that he might well have more security tonight, just to be on the safe side. Until he had confirmation that I was out of his hair.

  ‘All right, cut the engine.�
�

  ‘I thought I might be able to go. I’ve told you—’

  I pushed the gun into his ribcage and he turned off the ignition. ‘Out.’ We both stepped out of the car. ‘Open the boot.’

  He went round and reluctantly flicked it open.

  ‘Now get in.’

  He started shaking. ‘Don’t kill me. Please.’

  ‘You deserve it, Theo. You’re the lowest form of scum, getting other people to do your dirty work, but I’m not going to kill you. Unless, that is, you’re still standing there in five seconds.’

  He stared at me imploringly, then must have decided that he had nothing to lose by begging for his life. He told me that he had a wife and kids, and could I spare him just for their sakes, because he knew he didn’t honestly deserve to live, and if he could turn back the clock, then by God he’d do it like a shot. I got the feeling he’d never begged for anything before, but it was worth the effort. His wife and kids were probably as rotten as he was, but I didn’t like the idea of adding yet another small tragedy to the many that had been played out during this whole bloody saga, so when he finally raised his leg up to clamber in the boot, I smacked him hard across the back of the head with the butt of the gun and bundled him, unconscious, inside.

  I shut the boot, took the keys from the ignition and locked the car. Theo Morris was going to have an uncomfortable night, but, as he himself had pointed out, it was no more than he deserved.

  42

  I started walking back in the direction of the village. Above me the sky was an angry morass of clouds skitting west to east, obscuring the light of the three-quarter moon at regular intervals. A hard wind whipped about my shoulders, colder than the one I’d left behind in London, and I pulled up my collar in a futile effort to curb the draught that threatened to whistle right through me.

  The house next door to Thadeus’s place was a wide single-storey ranch-style building, complete with a huge wagon wheel attached to an artificial rock in the driveway. There were four cars parked up and plenty of lights on inside, but the owners were obviously less security-conscious than Mr Thadeus, because the main gate was open.

  I stepped onto the drive and made my way over to a path at the side of the house, keeping close to the wall that linked the two properties. I could hear the clink of glasses and the high-pitched laughter of middle-aged women who’d had too much to drink. It sounded as though there was a party going on in there, and I felt vaguely jealous that they probably had nothing more to worry about than hangovers the next day.

  Halfway down the path, a newish-looking garden shed backed onto the boundary wall. I climbed on top of it as quietly as possible, and peered straight into the thick foliage on Thadeus’s side of the wall. Not hearing any movement on the other side, I heaved myself up and over the wall, sliding down until I hit the ground with little more than a rustle of leaves and a grunt. Recovering, I pushed my way through the bushes and slowly poked my head out the other side.

  I was about twenty yards from the corner of Thadeus’s house. Between me and it was a neatly trimmed lawn that looked beautifully green, even in this light. There was a small single-storey gatehouse behind one of the gateposts, which was not visible from the road outside. A light was on in the gatehouse and I could see the balding profile of a man sitting in there. There were several screens in front of him, which were obviously the views from security cameras, but he didn’t appear to be watching them very closely. From the angle of his head, I guessed he was reading a book and trying to look as subtle about it as possible, just in case the boss was watching. There was only one way of checking whether or not Theo was right about him being the only security, and that was to wait.

  So that’s what I did.

  Five minutes passed. Then ten. I was on the verge of concluding that Thadeus was confident there was no way I was coming for him, so had not bothered beefing up his protection, when a guard in full uniform and a peaked cap ambled round from the back of the house, smoking a cigarette. He had an Alsatian dog with him. I’d half expected this. The guards had to have something to scare away intruders, since I suspected that neither of them had any weapons of their own. It’s one of the quirks of British law that you can employ security guards to protect your life and property, but their powers of arrest and use of force are so limited that they’re largely ineffective. Even if their dog bites you, they could be found liable in a civil court – but observing this hound, I didn’t think he was going to present too much of a problem. He was obviously well-fed and looked fairly close to retirement. The guard with him, who looked pretty close to retirement himself, was having to pull on the lead just to get him to keep to the ambling pace. The dog stopped and I thought he might have caught a whiff of my scent, but he cocked his leg and took a quick leak, while the guard puffed loudly on his smoke, pausing between drags to clear his throat.

  I slipped back into the cover of the bushes, pushed my scarf up so it was covering my face from the bridge of my nose down, and waited as the dog finished his business and they continued their walk. The keys on the guard’s belt jangled loudly as he got nearer. The art of surprise had clearly never been a major part of his repertoire.

  I watched as they drew level with me, about ten feet away. The dog still didn’t seem to smell anything, but as he came within sight of the gatehouse twenty yards away, he began to speed up. Maybe it was dinner time.

  I came out as silently as possible, took four quick strides and placed a gloved hand over the guard’s mouth, pulling him back into a tight embrace. At the same time, I pushed the silencer into his cheek. The dog turned and growled angrily. It looked like he was going to attempt to earn his keep for once. I had to act fast.

  ‘Call the dog off or it dies,’ I told him in muffled tones, ‘and keep very quiet. Now.’ I removed my hand, but kept the gun in exactly the same position.

  ‘It’s all right, Prince,’ the guard whispered nervously, leaning down to pet the dog, who relaxed his posture slightly. ‘Calm, boy,’ he said, then looked at me. ‘I don’t want any trouble, mister. I’m not going to resist, all right?’

  ‘You do what I say, no one’ll get hurt. I’ve got no interest in you.’ I let go of him. ‘Now keep walking and make for the gatehouse. When you get there, go inside as you would do normally, and I’ll take over from there. And please don’t try anything, because I will kill you. I guarantee it.’

  My voice was calm, which in my experience is usually the best means of convincing someone that you’re serious, particularly when you’re threatening to shoot them. Come over all panicky and nervous and they’ll think that maybe they haven’t lost all control of the situation, and try and do something about it. Particularly old-timers like this guy. He might have been pretty crap at his work, but I’d bet he still took pride in it, and wouldn’t want to be made to look a fool.

  I gave him a push and he started walking. The dog continued to growl, but followed when he gave it a pull on the lead. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do about old Prince. I couldn’t very well kill him (not after seeing what the death of Tex had done to its owner), but I couldn’t exactly leave him loose, either.

  ‘How many in the house?’ I asked him. ‘And answer quietly.’

  ‘I don’t know. This is my first night here. We only got called up on short notice.’

  ‘But you were met by someone?’

  ‘Yeah, the guy who owns the place. He’s the only one I’ve seen.’

  ‘OK, keep quiet now.’

  As we reached the gatehouse, he opened the door and stepped inside, just like I’d told him to. Prince squeezed past him.

  ‘All right, Bill?’ said the one sitting down with the book, still obscured from my vision. ‘Anything happening?’

  I took that as my cue to come in and point my gun at him.

  He turned round, saw me with my face hidden by the scarf, and adopted an expression of alarm that was so dramatic, it looked comical. He raised his arms quickly, then froze like a kid in a game of Mr Wolf.
The book dropped loudly to the floor. It was a hardback with a title I didn’t recognize. He started to speak, but I cut him off with a snapped ‘Be quiet!’ I turned the gun on Bill and told him to secure the dog.

  Bill was sensible. He didn’t argue. Neither did he ask me what I thought I was doing, or tell me I was making a big mistake. He just connected Prince’s lead to a hook on the wall. There was still enough slack for the dog to move around, but not to get at me.

  ‘Now muzzle him.’

  Bill found a muzzle on the worktop, beside a kettle and a couple of mugs, and leant down to do the honours.

  I turned back to Bill’s colleague. ‘Move away from the desk and face the wall.’

  He paused, staring at me like he knew it was the end, and I had to tell him again, adding that if he co-operated nothing would happen to him. I motioned with the gun towards the wall. Finally, he did what he was told, but he still didn’t look too sure about it, even with my words of reassurance.

  Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bill move his hand towards the hook. He was going to try something. I couldn’t believe it. I swung round and his hand stopped six inches from its target. He tried to put on an innocent expression, but it didn’t really work. I started to tell him that it wasn’t worth dying a hero, but before I could finish, his friend lunged forward and rugby-tackled me round the waist with surprising speed, one hand grabbing wildly for my gun arm, before clamping over my wrist with a strength driven by adrenalin.

  ‘Help me, Bill,’ he shouted, panic in his breath.

  Bill went for the hook again, and I fell back hard against the door frame under the weight of the assault, my gun arm forced skywards.

  Reflexively, I pulled the trigger. It might even have been completely accidental, I’m not sure. Either way, the result was the same. The silencer spat and the bullet caught Bill in the head. At least, I thought it did. He cried out and fell backwards, tripping over Prince before landing on his arse, both hands clutching at the side of his head.

  ‘I’m hit!’ he wailed, as blood seeped through his fingers. Prince jumped on him, whining balefully. ‘I’m down, help me.’