(2013) The Catch

by Tom Bale

  They held off and held off, but finally they had to go. It was Dan’s idea to keep waiting. He told himself he was doing the sensible thing, rather than delaying because he was scared. But the ever-present sense of foreboding gave the lie to that.

  Before they left the pub, Dan had a second pint of lager. Robbie wanted another drink, but had to settle for a J20. He didn’t take kindly to that, nor to the reminder that Dan’s car still had to be sorted out.

  ‘If what Cate said is true, and they find paint from the Fiesta on his ...’

  ‘Yeah, all right. I’m dealing with it.’

  ‘Soon, Robbie. It has to be soon.’

  ‘I hear you, okay?’

  Tired and irritable, they wandered through The Lanes in search of food. Ended up at a chain Italian. Dan ordered a pizza and ate it mechanically, each mouthful dropping into his gut like a stone. Another hour crawled past.

  Robbie received a couple of texts during the meal. After reading the first one he snorted and put his phone down without a word. But the second one drew a sigh.

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Bree.’

  It took Dan a second to place her. ‘You’re still fooling around with her?’

  Robbie nodded. ‘Amazing in bed, but she’s getting clingy.’

  ‘If her husband catches you ...’ Dan realised what he was saying, and let it drop. After last night, he should know better than to caution Robbie about his behaviour.

  Their next destination was an ATM in North Street. Dan said a silent prayer as the machine spat out a thin sheaf of notes. Please forgive me, Hayley, for lending him our money when I know he won’t pay it back. And forgive me for not telling you in the first place ...

  Then on to Compton’s. The office was located in a narrow three-storey building in a part-residential terrace in the North Laine area, just down the hill from the railway station. The area beyond it, east of the station, had undergone extensive redevelopment, with a new supermarket and gleaming apartment blocks. The Compton property portfolio included several flats in the new complex, and Dan, at Robbie’s behest, had been one of the first people to tour the finished apartments – all of them way out of his price range.

  Standing in the tiny lobby, watching the teasing blink of the light on the alarm box, Dan felt like an inept cat burglar, braced for the shock of a police floodlight. It was a grim rerun of last night, the same sick jumble of obligation, guilt and resentment – except that now those feelings were magnified through a lens of sheer terror.

  One mistake tonight and he could be spending the rest of his life in prison.

  ****

  Armed with a replacement envelope, they walked to Robbie’s car, which he’d put in the NCP in Church Street. There were parking bays in front of the office, but Robbie had avoided using them. ‘Keeping out of Mum’s way at the moment,’ he explained.

  ‘That’s probably wise.’

  At Robbie’s flat, Dan made no move to get out of the car, and Robbie didn’t invite him in. Dan knew that the lodger, Jed, had outstayed his welcome.

  ‘Was he there?’ he asked, when Robbie stalked back to the car.

  ‘Gone out. And he hadn’t locked the door properly.’ Robbie was gripping the envelope in one hand, and only reluctantly passed it to Dan, who tutted.

  ‘If the police come round and find his drugs, it won’t just be Jed in trouble.’

  ‘He doesn’t keep them there.’

  ‘You don’t sound very sure.’

  ‘All right, but who says the police are gonna ...?’

  He tailed off, noticing that Dan had opened the envelope and was peering inside.

  ‘It’s all here? Exactly three thousand?’

  ‘Yes, it fucking is,’ Robbie said, irritably enough to put an end to conversation for another ten minutes.

  ****

  They retraced their route from the night before, but in Robbie’s fast, whisper-quiet BMW. There was a surreal quality to the journey, as though they were going back in time.

  Perhaps they were, Dan thought. Perhaps they’d return to that country lane and there would be nothing to see because nothing had happened. They’d reach the pub and Hank would arrive soon after, safe and sound, and once the transaction was concluded Robbie and Dan could happily depart, and all would be well ...

  It was a quarter to ten when they turned right on to the B road, heading north through a serene rural landscape. The fields and hedgerows were a shade or two darker than the sky, thin trees looming over them in bony silhouette.

  Robbie’s hands fluttered restlessly on the steering wheel. He cast a covetous glance at the envelope.

  ‘Oh, man, do we really have to do this?’

  ‘If it keeps us out of prison, Robbie ...’

  ‘It wouldn’t necessarily come to that. With the right legal team, we could work something out. Cate would help. She’d make a great witness.’

  ‘So now you’re expecting your sister to commit perjury for the sake of a few quid?’

  ‘It’s not a few quid.’

  ‘There’s no point having this conversation,’ Dan said. ‘We’re doing it.’

  ****

  Getting close now. Dan’s heart was beating faster, his breath coming in short gasps. He leaned forward, one hand on the dashboard as he willed the car onwards; now just wanting it over, wanting to know for sure that this was real and not a nightmare.

  ‘There,’ Robbie said, jiggling the steering wheel to the right. The car jerked sideways and Dan had to stifle a shout: he heard the thud, the body tumbling over the Fiesta’s roof.

  Then he saw that the shifting headlights had picked up a couple of little red dots. Plastic bollards, grouped around the site where Hank’s body had been discovered. And there was a reflective yellow sign in the road, an appeal for witnesses to contact the police.

  ‘Nobody here,’ Robbie said. ‘Where shall I stop?’

  ‘Go past,’ Dan said. ‘Maybe fifty feet away.’ Thinking: If anyone sees us here ...

  But the alternative was worse. There was nowhere else to leave the car, other than at the pub, and that was out of the question.

  Robbie braked as they rolled past the site. Didn’t even give it a glance. Dan tried to look but couldn’t see much.

  Steering the BMW on to the opposite side of the road, Robbie stopped tight against the verge. As he put the handbrake on he glanced in the mirror and swore.

  There was a car coming up behind them. Still quite a way back, but if they drove off now it would look even more suspicious. Robbie activated the hazard lights while Dan had another idea. He offered Robbie his mobile. ‘Pretend to be talking.’

  Robbie put the phone to his ear. Moments later the car flashed past, the driver only a vague blur to them, as they were to him.

  ‘I’d say turn the hazards off,’ Dan said. ‘It’s calling attention to us.’

  Robbie handed the phone back, exchanging it for the envelope. ‘You’re getting good at this, mate,’ he said. Half-teasing, half-admiring.

  ‘Yeah, well, I’ve had to be, haven’t I?’

  CHAPTER 25

  Jerry heard a car slowing down. As he moved to get a better look he heard another one approaching behind it. This was the first traffic for a good five minutes or so, and the way he’d been crouching had cut off the circulation in his lower legs. The pain as he stretched out made his eyes water.

  Fucking Stemper.

  The second car was moving fast. He ducked away from the wash of its headlights, waiting for it to pass, and as he looked up he heard the clunk of a door opening.

  A couple of seconds, then another clunk. Jerry eased his upper body round, careful to avoid a clump of nettles, and squinted into the darkness.

  The car had pulled up on the wrong side of the road, close to the accident site. Two men were getting out. The passenger shut his door after him, but the driver’s door was left open, almost touching the trees beyond the verge. Both men looking around, scanning the road in both directions. Nervy,
furtive movements.

  Jerry knew he had to get the plate number, but he was too far away. He couldn’t risk approaching along the road. Instead he withdrew into the field. For a better vantage point he’d have to creep along until he was almost level with the rear of the car.

  He had to be careful, though. Two against one – not the sort of odds he fancied. And these were young men: he could tell that much. Young and fit.

  And killers, maybe.

  ****

  Dan had intended to stay in the car, until he realised that he didn’t trust Robbie not to slip a few hundred pounds into his pocket.

  He got out, shut his door and looked around. It was dark, and quiet, and yet his nerves were screaming danger at him. This felt like an act of gross stupidity; a suicide mission, almost. Returning to the scene of the crime ...

  And then a dreadful thought: what if the police had anticipated that? What if they’d set up a hidden camera, filming everyone who went past?

  ‘Robbie ...’ he whispered, and then heard in his mind the derisive laughter, and when Robbie gave him a questioning look he shook his head. ‘Never mind.’

  ‘So where we gonna leave it?’

  ‘Far enough out that they might have missed it during a search.’

  Dan examined the trees, trying to work out the distance from the lonely semicircle of bollards. At close range he could see yellow paint sprayed on the road: this must be where the police investigator had marked the point of impact. Dan shuddered, picturing O’Brien’s body being hurled through the air.

  ‘No flowers,’ he murmured.

  ‘What?’

  ‘These days you normally see flowers laid at the scene of an accident.’

  ‘Yeah, but who’s gonna miss Hank the Wank?’

  ‘I thought someone would.’ Dan sighed. He spotted a break in the trees, pointed it out to Robbie. ‘Through there?’

  Robbie stepped towards the gap. Dan turned, checking the road again, and something moved in the hedge behind him.

  ****

  ‘What was that?’

  Robbie gave a start. The envelope leapt in his hand and he had a horrifying vision of a cop car gliding up just as the money spilled out into the ditch.

  ‘Frigging hell!’ He saw Dan was stock-still, half-crouched, facing the opposite side of the road.

  ‘There’s something in the hedge.’

  ‘Probably a fox.’

  The passing seconds were ticking in Robbie’s head like a bomb waiting to go off. He gave Dan’s concern a moment’s thought, then dismissed it. He pressed through the trees, trying to bend the branches rather than snap them. The field beyond looked recently ploughed, the soil gleaming in the early starlight. It had a rich, honest aroma that made him think of childhood, but he had no idea why.

  There was no way he could go into the field without leaving incriminating footprints. It would have to be option two: the frisbee method.

  He knelt down, got ready to do it, then hesitated. He was literally going to throw away three thousand pounds. It almost brought tears to his eyes.

  Come back and get it tomorrow, a wicked voice spoke up.

  He answered it with: Maybe.

  Partially consoled, he was able to toss the envelope gently into the field. It vanished into the darkness, landing with a soft thud. Job done.

  Easy to find in the morning.

  Robbie turned back. Dan was still facing the other way. He’d moved closer to the hedge.

  ‘There!’ he said. ‘Did you hear that?’

  ****

  Jerry had the rucksack at his side. He could barely see the guy beyond the hedge, but he could hear him coming closer. Moving nothing but his right arm, Jerry reached into the rucksack, probing for the knife.

  ‘There!’ said the man. ‘Did you hear that?’

  Jerry froze again, comforted just to have a weapon in his hand. If the guy suddenly came at him there should be time to shove the knife through his heart. And if it happened, Jerry would have no qualms about doing it. He was cold as stone inside.

  It’s him or me now: simple as that.

  ****

  Dan was dimly aware of Robbie throwing the envelope; he registered the scudding noise as it hit the earth. But his focus remained on the hedgerow. He was certain that he’d sensed a quiet rustling, a subtle rearrangement in the tangle of shadows.

  Someone was in there, watching them.

  He took another step, was sure he could see the faintest glimmer of reflected light: a pair of eyes, staring straight back at him. It could be a fox, like Robbie said.

  Or maybe there was nothing: just his overcharged imagination.

  ‘Well?’ said Robbie, and Dan gasped.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Come on, then. Let’s get the hell out of here.’

  Dan wrenched himself away, hurried to the car and found Robbie gazing forlornly into space.

  ‘What really hurts is that they’ve probably finished the search.’

  ‘What?’ Dan was still lost in thought. Didn’t look like a fox’s eyes ...

  ‘After Cate told ’em about the money, I bet they came back here and looked for it this afternoon. All that’s gonna happen now is some bloody farmer will stumble on a windfall.’

  ‘If that happens, we have to hope he does the decent thing.’

  ‘Yeah, right.’ Robbie started the engine and pulled away. ‘What the fu—?’

  The BMW lurched as he reacted to something in his rear-view mirror. There was a crunching noise from the gearbox, the car losing speed, dying on them.

  ****

  Dan turned, saw a figure running in the road, only yards behind. ‘Go!’ he yelled, and Robbie got himself together, rammed the gearstick into second and hit the accelerator. Dan’s head bounced off the headrest but he barely felt the pain. The figure was still lumbering towards them, his arms moving together, not flailing but with purpose, as though he had—

  A blinding flash of light through the back window. Dan’s immediate reaction was that they’d been shot at, and he yelled again and ducked sideways. The BMW swerved and corrected, and then Robbie floored it and they sped away.

  ‘What the hell was that?’ Robbie shrieked.

  Dan looked back, his eyes still smarting from the flash. Not a gunshot: he knew that now.

  ‘A camera. He took a photo.’

  ‘Oh, Christ! The number plate ...?’ Robbie had lifted his foot off the pedal, enough for the car to lose momentum.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Should we go back? It was only one man, right?’

  ‘No. In case he’s a cop.’

  ‘Ah, fuck, no.’ Robbie increased speed again. Neither said a word, both frantically thinking it over. Then they spoke at once.

  Robbie: ‘He can’t be a cop—’

  Dan: ‘The picture might not come out—’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It depends on the range of the flash. Most photos taken at night are rubbish.’

  Robbie nodded, eager to believe it. ‘If he was a cop, he wouldn’t be there on his own. And there’d be a roadblock.’

  That brought fresh fears, but a minute later they were at the pub. The car park was heaving. A knot of smokers stood outside the door, but no police, no cars or barriers in their way.

  Keeping to a sensible speed, Robbie drove on, continuing north until he reached Partridge Green, where he took a right towards Shermanbury and could head south again.

  ‘Oh shit, Dan. If he’s not a cop, who the hell is he?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Paralysed by confusion, Dan could only recall what he had said to Robbie the night before.

  This has made a hole in someone’s life, you can be sure of that.

  CHAPTER 26

  It had been a long and miserably tense day, and by the time Jerry finally got in touch they were both past their best.

  Patricia had declined Gordon’s offer to wait up alone. ‘I’ll only have to get up when Jerry arrives.’

 
; ‘But it could be hours yet, and even then there might be nothing to report.’

  ‘Gordon, I am perfectly capable of enduring a late night.’

  And she was. She sat with Gordon in the living room, sneering at Newsnight and its attempts to portray a world they knew far more intimately than any BBC apparatchik could describe.

  ‘State-funded television, it’s an obscenity,’ Patricia said. ‘Should be wiped out, and one day it will be.’

  Gordon agreed wholeheartedly, of course; although occasionally he would succumb to the lure of nostalgia: David Attenborough, the Morecambe and Wise Christmas specials; the coverage of great state occasions. Wimbledon fortnight.

  ****

  The phone rang at about ten to midnight. Gordon hit the button for the speakerphone and Jerry’s voice drawled out in a low-pitched gurgle of excitement: ‘Only fucking got ’em!’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Am I on the speaker? It’s safe to talk, yeah?’

  ‘Yes, Jerry,’ Patricia said. ‘Explain, please.’

  ‘There were two of ’em. Turned up in a BMW around ten o’clock.’

  Gordon glanced at his wife: it was just as Stemper had predicted.

  ‘Did you get a clear look at them?’ Patricia asked.

  ‘I couldn’t. I was hiding the other side of the hedge. One of ’em nearly spotted me.’

  ‘All right. What can you tell us about them?’

  ‘Young blokes. Twenties, early thirties. Both quite tall, slim builds. Reasonably well-spoken, but not posh like—’

  Like you two, he’d been about to say.

  Gordon smiled. ‘You mean educated?’

  ‘Yeah. One sounded worried, like he knew they were taking a big risk.’

  ‘What did they do?’

  ‘That’s the weird part. I had one staring right at me, and the other one was in the trees across the road. I reckon he was looking for something.’

  Gordon frowned at Patricia, who said, ‘If they left anything at the scene, surely the police would have found it?’