‘You don’t give up, do you?’ Grier had said with a mixture of admiration and exasperation when she finally got off the phone.
‘Someone once said there was a solution to every problem.’ ‘Do you believe that?’
She’d thought about her alcoholism, about the way her life had turned out, a long battle that never seemed close to completion, let alone victory. ‘No.’ She’d managed a smile. ‘But I always live in hope.’
When she dropped him off at home a little while later, he’d given her a strange look, as if he wanted to say something. But then the look had gone, and he’d got out of the car, asking if he was going to be needed tomorrow.
‘I’ll let you know,’ she’d said, and watched as he let himself in to his attractive redbrick townhouse where his wife, a successful corporate lawyer, was waiting.
Now, sitting in her poky little living room with her cigarette and her booze, Tina concentrated on the case, because she knew that as soon as she stopped thinking about it she’d slip into the inevitable self-pity. And there was plenty to think about. This case was one of the most puzzling she’d ever been involved in. On the one hand, they had a man against whom the evidence seemed overwhelming. There was the murder weapon in his flat, incriminating footage showing a number of the murders on his computer, and he had a direct link with every one of the victims. Yet, at the same time, they also had a murder that was different from the others, and for which their suspect had a cast-iron alibi. Added to the mix was Kent’s claim to have important information, something which he thought was worth killing him for. Whether or not he’d faked his poisoning in the cell back at the station, the fact remained that an armed gang had been prepared to break him free from police custody at gunpoint. Which meant that one way or another he was important to someone.
But who? And why?
She took another gulp of the Rioja. Booze wasn’t usually that helpful where intensive thinking was concerned, but she was hoping now that it might give her a new angle on things.
Because she knew she was missing something. Everything happened for a reason. The solution was in there somewhere, it was simply a matter of finding it, and the way to do that was to follow the Sherlock Holmes route of removing every scenario that was impossible until you were left with one that fitted. And that would be the truth.
Kent did not murder Roisín O’Neill. Someone else did. That person had strangled her, although there were no obvious signs of sexual assault. But the killer had known the Night Creeper’s MO, even though the information wasn’t available to the public, and had tried to make her death look like one of his, in order to cover up his own guilt. But what did that killer then need from Andrew Kent?
Think . . . Think . . .
And then she slammed her glass down on the coffee table as the answer came to her in a mad rush. She didn’t even notice the wine spilling and dripping down on to the carpet. She was too excited for that because for the first time she was sure she knew what had happened, and why Kent had been targeted.
Now they just had to find him.
Thirty-four
I was out of that outbuilding fast, and the shock on my face must have been obvious because Lee put a hand to her mouth.
I took her arm and moved her away from the door. ‘There’s a body in there.’
‘It’s not Ty, is it? Please not Ty.’
It was then that I realized she must have genuinely cared for him, although God alone knew why. ‘No, it’s Haddock, and he’s been murdered.’
‘Haddock? But he’s so big.’
‘They must have been waiting in there for him and caught him by surprise.’
I walked slowly round to the front of the main building, with Lee following. I had no idea who’d killed Haddock, but whoever it was had known what they were doing. And if they could take out an immense brute like him, they could just as easily take out Lee and me.
I thought I caught a flash of movement from somewhere inside the treeline. I squinted, watching the area like a hawk, but saw nothing more, making me wonder whether I’d imagined it. The night was dark and I was feeling hugely jumpy.
‘We need to go,’ I told Lee, ‘but we’re going to need some weapons.’
‘What about Ty?’
‘Have you got a phone? You can call him and get him to meet us somewhere.’
‘I tried. There’s still no signal.’
‘Shit.’
‘Do you think whoever killed Haddock is still here?’ Lee looked around fearfully in the darkness.
‘No, there’d be no point.’ But the truth was, I had no idea. I only knew that I didn’t want to hang around, and I wasn’t going to walk through those woods without some kind of weapon. There hadn’t been anything I could use in the outbuilding, which left only one alternative. ‘We need to go back in the house.’
‘There were knives in the kitchen,’ said Lee. ‘I saw some earlier, in one of the drawers.’
‘That’ll do,’ I said, and started walking, hoping they were still there, and wondering if I was making a very stupid decision by going back in.
But as I stepped inside the front door and back into the dusty old foyer, no one tried to attack me. Instead, the place remained as eerily silent as it had been before. I waited a couple of seconds, listening hard for any out-of-place sound, but all I could hear was Lee’s quiet breathing coming from behind me. I asked her where the kitchen was.
‘Over there,’ she whispered, pointing to a door to the right of the staircase, her actions making it quite clear that she expected me to lead the way.
I went over and gave the door a kick so that it flew back on its hinges with a loud crack that shattered the stillness of the building and made Lee jump.
‘What did you do that for?’ she hissed.
‘Because I’m not taking chances,’ I answered, walking inside and looking around.
It was a big room, with a breakfast island in the middle, more graffiti on the walls, and an odour of grease. It also looked empty.
Lee pointed to the drawer where she’d seen the knives and, moving fast, I pulled it open, rifling through the cheap cutlery until I found a blunt, rusty-looking carving knife and a small kitchen knife with a four-inch blade. I handed the smaller weapon to her and took the carving knife.
I couldn’t imagine ever stabbing someone. I’d seen enough stabbing victims in the past to make me realize what a terrible thing it was to do to a person, and I knew I wouldn’t have the mental strength to shove the blade into human flesh, even if the person was trying to kill me. Still, I was relieved to have a means of defending myself at last, even if it was just a deterrent.
‘Can we go now?’ Lee asked.
I could see the fear etched on her features in the gloom, and I nodded, starting back towards the front door.
Then I stopped. ‘Wait.’
I was looking at the door through which we’d dragged Kent earlier. Kent. In my desperation to escape I’d completely forgotten about him. Had he been freed by the mysterious client? Was he still trapped down in the basement? Was he even still alive? I had to find out. Because if he was, I had a duty to take him out of there and get him back into police custody.
I told Lee what I planned to do, and she looked at me like I was some kind of madman. ‘Don’t go down there,’ she pleaded. ‘Let’s just leave.’
I shook my head, then kicked open the door in the same way I’d done earlier. This time Lee let out a high-pitched shriek that would have woken the dead.
‘Just being cautious,’ I said, before stepping inside the empty, cavernous room and flicking on my lighter.
Shadows danced through the gloom, revealing the graffiti on the walls, but nothing else.
Then, as Lee came in behind me, I saw it.
The door to the basement was ever so slightly ajar, its bolt pulled back. Wolfe and Haddock wouldn’t have left it like that, not with their prize – the man they’d shot a police officer to get hold of – down there. And I couldn’t see how Ken
t would have been able to escape on his own, not when the door had been bolted from the outside.
I walked over, conscious of the sound my footfalls were making on the creaking floorboards. I stopped two feet away, listened. Hearing nothing once again, I used the carving knife to pull the door further open and stared down into the darkness, the flame from the lighter doing little to illuminate it.
‘I don’t want to go down there,’ whispered Lee.
I put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. ‘You stay here by the door. I’ll be back up in a moment.’
She asked me again not to go, and a huge part of me felt like agreeing with her. But I had to know what had happened to Kent.
The metal on the lighter cap was burning my fingers so I let the flame go out, then with the knife out in front of me I moved slowly down the stone steps, every sense attuned to my surroundings as I tried to pick out any unnatural noise within the silent blackness.
When I reached the bottom, I leaned back against the cold stone wall, tightened my grip on the knife, and flicked the lighter back on.
The basement was large and windowless, full of empty cobweb-strewn shelves. In the middle of the room on its own was a brand-new, heavy office chair with its wheels removed. It had thick rolls of duct tape wound round both arms and two of the legs. One of the rolls carried what looked in the near-darkness like a bloodstain.
But it wasn’t that which caught my attention. It was the fact that the chair was empty.
Where the hell was Andrew Kent?
Then I spotted something in the far corner beyond the chair. I slowly walked towards it, keeping the lighter raised high.
Jesus.
It was a body, lying curled up in a foetal ball, in the blue boiler suit he’d been in earlier. His face might have been caked in blood, but I recognized him straight away. It was the shock of dirty blond hair, Tommy’s pride and joy.
As I looked down at him, I saw a drop of blood run to the edge of his chin before dripping on to the stone floor, which was the moment when I realized he’d only died very recently. Probably in the last few minutes. Possibly even since we’d been back in the building.
And then I heard the noise behind me.
Thirty-five
I turned just in time to see a dark, silhouetted figure leaping at me through the darkness. I saw a glint of metal in the dim glow of the lighter flame, but then the lighter flew out of my hand, plunging the basement into near total blackness, as my attacker slammed me bodily against the far wall and twisted the wrist of my knife hand in an effort to get me to drop it.
My ribs felt like they were going to explode with the pain, but adrenalin and the survival instinct took over and I lashed out with my free hand, trying to intercept his blade. I managed to get hold of his wrist, but he was strong and I felt the blade nip at the skin of my belly as he tried to push it into me. At the same time he increased the pressure on my knife hand, and it took every ounce of willpower to hold on to my knife.
I was once told by a football thug and ex-boxer that in close-quarters combat, when you’re struggling hand to hand, your best weapon is your head. Remembering that now, I launched mine into the blackness, hoping to catch him with a strong enough blow to knock him off balance. Unfortunately, he’d also had the same idea, and our foreheads met somewhere in the middle with a loud, agonizing crack that shocked both of us.
For a moment, he loosened his grip on me and I managed to launch myself off the wall, pushing him backwards. But he kept his balance and remained tight to me as we wrestled frantically across the floor, with him trying to land another headbutt on me.
I dodged two of the blows but banged into the office chair, lost my footing and stumbled, only just managing to stay upright. At the same time, he drove his knife hand upwards in a sudden movement until the blade was so close to my face that I could actually see it. Using his momentum, he charged me back into a set of shelves, pushing the knife even further into my field of vision, so close to me now that the tip of the blade was barely an inch from my left eye.
I could see nothing in the gloom, bar the blade and the darkness. But I could hear his laboured breathing, smell the stale odour of his breath.
‘For Christ’s sake, help me!’ I roared, willing Lee to come down. ‘Help!’
My arm was shaking with the effort of holding his wrist and keeping the knife from plunging right through my eye and into my brain. It was a trial of strength but one I was always going to lose because my attacker had all the momentum and the physical strength, and all I had was desperation. Just the smallest slackening of my grip would mean certain death, and I couldn’t have that. Couldn’t. Not before I’d found out what was going on here.
I let out an angry howl, and with my last remaining strength I drove my knee up into my attacker’s groin, knocking him backwards. Seeing my chance, I twisted my own knife hand free and lashed out into the darkness with the blade. The only thing I stabbed was air, though, and a second later his own blade came flashing out of the darkness in a vicious, scything arc. Instinctively, I dived out of the way, lost my footing completely this time, and fell to the ground, twisting so that I landed on my back with the knife outstretched.
‘Help me!’ I screamed again, but this time my assailant didn’t continue his attack. Instead, I heard him racing up the steps.
Exhausted, I got to my feet and scrambled in the direction of the steps, starting up them myself, just as his silhouette reached the top. I was five steps behind him by the time he slammed the door shut, two steps by the time he threw the bolt across and left me once again in total blackness.
With a scream of frustration, I shoulder-barged the door with every ounce of strength I had, but bounced uselessly off it and toppled down a couple of the steps. Panicking now, knowing that Lee was out there somewhere and that I’d betrayed her by not leaving with her when we had the chance, I kept hitting it, making as much noise as possible, feeling a rising sense of panic, claustrophobia, and anger at myself. Having just been released from forced captivity, I’d got myself back into exactly the same situation only minutes later because I’d broken the first rule of undercover work: when things go tits up, get out fast and let the cavalry mop up the mess.
I paused for a few seconds, panting as I waited to get my breath back, the questions racing through my mind. Was it Kent who’d just attacked me? If so, how had he managed to break free from his bonds, and how did he manage to kill Clarence Haddock fifty metres away? Why, too, had he come back to the cellar in which he’d been incarcerated when he’d had the chance to make a break for it? And if it wasn’t Kent who’d attacked me, then, with both Haddock and Tommy already dead, who the hell was it?
One obvious name sprang out at me, and pretty much as soon as it did I heard the sound of cautious footfalls coming from the room outside.
‘Hello?’ Tyrone Wolfe called out, his voice echoing round the emptiness of the building. ‘Where is everybody? Clarence, Lee?’ His voice carried a ring of uncertainty as if he’d just walked in the front door and was surprised to find the place dark and deserted.
My first thought was that this was some kind of trick Wolfe was pulling. But if he was the guy who’d just attacked me, then he had me trapped anyway, so he wouldn’t need to play any kind of trick. Stuck in the darkness, I had little choice but to give him the benefit of the doubt.
I rapped hard on the door. ‘Tyrone. It’s me, Sean. Let me out of here.’
The footfalls came closer. ‘What are you doing in there?’ he demanded.
So I told him the truth. About Lee freeing me; the discovery of Haddock’s corpse; then Tommy’s; and finally Kent’s empty chair and the attack on me.
‘Where’s Lee?’ he snapped, the tension in his voice clearly audible.
‘I don’t know. I left her where you are now. Isn’t she there?’
‘No, she isn’t. No one is.’
‘She was there two minutes ago, I promise.’
‘How do I know you’re telling the
truth?’
‘Because I didn’t lock myself in here, did I? And if you don’t believe me about Haddock, go and check. He’s in the outbuilding round the side.’
‘And he’s definitely dead?’ Wolfe sounded incredulous, which I could understand. It was difficult to believe someone as huge and menacing as Haddock could be brought low by anyone.
‘As a doornail,’ I told him. ‘And Tommy.’
There was a long, heavy silence as he took stock of what I’d just told him – that his crew was no more, having been wiped out in the time it took him to bury a couple of guns, and that his girlfriend was missing, possibly dead. Possibly even involved, since right now pretty much anything was possible. One thing was clear, however, and that was that Tyrone Wolfe was as much in the dark as me, which was about the only thing that gave me some hope.
Finally, I heard the bolt being slid across and I took a step back, holding on to the staircase rail as the door opened. Wolfe stood there pointing his gun at me. By the dim moonlight coming through the windows, I could see his forehead glinting with sweat.
He spotted my knife and told me to drop it.
‘No way. Someone’s just tried to kill me, and they’re still round here somewhere. In fact, I’m still not a hundred per cent sure it’s not you. I mean, you look a bit out of breath.’
‘I’ve just been digging a bloody great hole. Of course I look out of breath.’
‘But you kept your gun I see.’
‘It didn’t get fired so there’s no need to be rid of it.’
‘And as you can see, my knife hasn’t been used either. But I’m like you. I need something to protect myself with.’
He licked his lips and nodded. ‘Fair enough, but we need to find Lee.’
‘And Kent. He’s the man the client wants, isn’t he?’
The Last 10 Seconds Page 18
