by Tom Bale
One more try, she decided as he got into the car. Because Cate had always believed she was tougher than this; a fighter.
‘Have you spoken to Robbie?’
He shifted in his seat, which she took as a sign of irritation. ‘I played him the message.’
‘And has he agreed ... to do what you want?’
He subjected her to a few seconds of agony before replying. This time there was a trace of grim humour: ‘Did you doubt that he’d be prepared to save you?’
Cate mumbled a non-committal response. Her prize, at least, was confirmation that Robbie was still alive. She prayed that he’d have the good sense to talk to Dan, and that between them they could figure out a way to end this without more bloodshed.
****
When Jerry phoned, Robbie had just skirted Horsham on the A24, Dan trailing some four or five cars back. It was ten to six. The roads were busy, hindering their progress, but that didn’t worry Robbie.
In fact, he felt intensely relaxed: just as he’d demonstrated on Tuesday night, he was at his best in a crisis. He’d hooked up his iPod and was playing a selection of classic soul: Sam and Dave, Jackie Wilson, Marvin Gaye. Music to make you feel alive and potent and formidable.
He switched it off and took the call. ‘Jerry.’
‘Where are you?’
‘Just been for a McDonald’s.’ Robbie congratulated himself on his quick thinking: they’d passed one a few minutes ago. ‘I was peckish.’
‘I hope you enjoyed it. Now, I want you to drive to the town of Midhurst, in West Sussex.’
‘I know it.’
‘If you’re coming from the east, you’ll find a large car park just before the town proper. Park at the bottom and wait there till exactly seven-thirty.’
‘Is that where we’re doing the handover?’
In a slow monotone, Jerry said, ‘If you fail to follow these instructions, your sister will die. At seven-thirty take the A286 north to Haslemere, and on towards Godalming. I’ll call when you’re under way.’
There was a roundabout coming up. Robbie moved to the right-hand lane and left the indicator on, hoping that Dan would spot the change of direction.
‘I want to speak to Cate,’ he said.
‘Not possible. Your sister won’t be harmed, on the condition that you do as I say. I warn you now: if you’ve gone to the police the repercussions will be severe.’
The line went dead. Robbie swore a few times, swinging the BMW around the roundabout. Dan was tracking him, probably confused as hell. For a second Robbie thought about flooring the pedal and losing him altogether. This guy Jerry was the real deal. Could Robbie really hope to get one over on him?
Then he thought: You betcha. If Robbie was smart, if he was careful, of course he could. A couple of hours and he’d have Cate back, and this twat would have his bundle of documents. Even then, all was not lost, providing Robbie moved fast enough.
That was what irked him the most: the delays. It wouldn’t take more than forty minutes to reach Midhurst. Then he’d be sitting there like a lemon for an hour or so.
He rang Dan, half expecting him to ignore the call until he could pull over and answer safely. But Dan picked it up at once.
‘Midhurst,’ Robbie said, and relayed the instructions. ‘You need to stop for a bit, say at Petworth. Come into the car park about fifteen minutes after me, at quarter to seven.’
‘And then we have to stay till half-past?’
‘Yeah. Though again, you should leave a few minutes early. I can’t really see that he’ll be watching us, but it pays to be careful, eh?’
‘This is very thorough, Robbie. I think he knows exactly what he’s doing.’
‘Yeah, so imagine if we had gone to the cops. Cate would be in big trouble.’
Dan just grunted. ‘I wonder if the delays are because he’s waiting for it to get dark. Less chance of being seen when we do the exchange.’
‘Good point. And looks like I was right about Surrey. I bet the final destination will be near where the Blakes live.’ Lived, he amended silently, because his gut feeling was that they were dead. ‘Maybe we should just head straight there?’
‘What? Do you want to go and get your sister killed—?’
Chuckling, Robbie said, ‘Chill, mate. Of course I’m not gonna put her at risk.’
‘You idiot. You already have.’
****
Robbie’s laughter made Dan feel sick. A man who refused to take even this situation seriously was a man whose judgement shouldn’t be trusted.
‘Why are you sounding so cheerful?’ he asked.
‘Because I’m the eternal optimist, me. Because there’s no disaster so bad that you can’t salvage something from it.’
Dan had heard enough. ‘Midhurst, at six-forty-five.’
The churning in his gut wouldn’t be subdued, even when he tried to accept that Robbie was right in one sense. Involving the police probably would have made things worse.
Easing up on the accelerator – there was no longer any need to match the BMW’s speed – Dan took the A264 to Billingshurst, where he joined the A272 heading west. It was a murky evening, the setting sun obscured by streaks of thin cloud, a soft pink light diffused across the sky. The fields and copses of Sussex were falling into gentle shadow, while the road that ran between them was transformed into a glittering chain of red and white lights.
Dan couldn’t stop tormenting himself with images of Cate held prisoner, perhaps in pain, certainly terrified, confused – and no doubt able to deduce that Robbie wouldn’t call the police for fear of ending up in jail.
So they were all she had: Robbie and Dan.
Right now, it didn’t seem like enough.
****
The congestion didn’t bother Robbie: it meant less waiting around at the other end. But he nearly had a run-in with some idiot who kept tailgating him. That put him on edge, the thought that this arsehole might hit the car and throw the whole evening into chaos.
It was almost exactly half past six when he reached Midhurst and drove into the car park. There were dozens of empty spaces, but Robbie kept to the instructions and parked at the furthest point from the entrance. The car park backed on to fields, and there were trees and bushes along the perimeter.
Robbie was pleased to see that. He was dying for a piss. He hadn’t noticed any signs for toilets as he’d passed the bus station on his way in, and in any case it was too far to walk. He sat for a minute, gauging how many pedestrians were likely to stray into the vicinity, and decided it would be safe. Hardly anyone around.
He locked the BMW – because of the suitcase in the boot – then nipped behind a bush and relieved himself. Probably the most pleasurable moment of his evening, he thought. And it was gonna get worse before it got better.
As if to prove it, there was an indignant cry as he got back to the car. He turned to see a man hurrying towards him, eyebrows knotted with displeasure. Robbie knew the type at once: a grey, middle-aged small-town bureaucrat with a stick up his arse.
‘Urinating in public, you know that’s tantamount to indecent exposure?’
Tantamount? Robbie grinned. ‘Fuck off, matey, and get a life.’
‘No, I won’t. I’ve a good mind to ...’ The man tailed off, as his sort always tended to do, in Robbie’s experience. They never had the balls to back up their threats with action.
Settling into his seat, Robbie leaned out to shut the car door. At the same time he glanced up to see if the bloke’s nerve had failed him yet.
Not quite. Mr Bumptious had come closer, almost to the door, and he was reaching inside his suit jacket. Robbie gave a silent groan.
What’s he gonna threaten me with now? His Rotary Club membership card?
CHAPTER 99
Dan pulled in to a lay-by near the small town of Petworth. En route it had occurred to him that they should have brought weapons of some sort. In the boot of the Corsa he found a wheelbrace, which he placed beside him on the passenger se
at. Better than nothing.
He sat back, shut his eyes and let his mind drift. He thought about Hayley and Tim, and decided that he wished them well. He worried about his aunt, and Louis, and the effects on them both when the truth finally emerged. For it would come out, he was sure of that.
Unhappy accidents.
What nagged him was a disturbing sense that they were getting this wrong. Dan didn’t like it that Jerry had them driving from place to place; it felt like misdirection. They’d had no chance to discuss what was happening, no chance to think about it clearly.
So think about it now ...
Jerry was holding Cate hostage. For reasons unknown, he had killed Martin. And it seemed likely that he’d turned on his former employers, the Blakes. Now he was after the paperwork that could be used to extort a fortune from Mark Templeton, presumably because he’d spotted a better opportunity to enrich himself.
Either he was going to blackmail Templeton – or perhaps he was working for Templeton. Perhaps he’d been a double agent all along.
All perfectly logical, but for one huge obstacle. How could he murder on this scale and hope to get away with it?
When Dan opened his eyes it was just after six-thirty. Time to go.
****
He joined the line of traffic and drove the last few miles to Midhurst, still brooding over the missing piece of the puzzle. As he drove into the main parking area he spotted Robbie’s BMW sitting alone at the bottom of a slight incline. Too obvious to drive right up to it, so Dan settled for a space in one of the central sections, about a hundred feet away.
He didn’t glance at Robbie until he’d got out of the Corsa, and then he tried to disguise it with a casual sweep of the area. But one clear look at the BMW and the pretence was forgotten.
He could see Robbie inside the car, but he wasn’t sitting properly. Seemed like he was leaning sideways, reaching for something in the glove compartment.
Dan jogged towards the car, slowing as he drew level with the BMW. Then he bent at the waist, hands on his knees in the manner of an exhausted athlete, and turned his head towards the car. He saw the truth at once.
Robbie was dead, a dark, blood-filled hole in his forehead, as if someone had drilled into his skull. His expression was a kind of surprised scowl. He couldn’t believe this was happening; couldn’t credit that someone had actually got the better of him at last.
****
Shock might have frozen Dan to the spot. Robbie was dead; there was absolutely no doubt about that. But it must have happened in the past ten or fifteen minutes, so the killer could still be here ...
That got Dan moving, his neck tingling at the thought of someone training a gun on him. But as he straightened up he noticed something else. The BMW’s boot was open a fraction.
Checking to make sure he was unobserved, Dan lifted the boot lid and looked inside. Apart from a rolled-up picnic blanket and a bottle of screenwash, the compartment was empty. The flight bag had gone.
So now Jerry had Cate, he had the paperwork, and Dan had no way of tracking him.
The growl of an engine made him jump. A small van drove into a space just forty or fifty feet from the BMW. Dan shut the boot without slamming it, then tried to saunter away, his legs jerking spasmodically, as though he was learning how to walk. He drove from the car park on autopilot, holding his shock and grief at bay and trying strenuously to deny the fact that Cate might be lost to him for ever.
He considered the instructions from Jerry. Wait till seven-thirty, then head for Godalming. Back towards Surrey, Robbie had said. Because Cate was probably being held close to where the Blakes lived.
And Dan had suspected that Jerry was stringing this out until nightfall. So what had changed? Had Robbie disobeyed or confronted Jerry, and this was his punishment? Or had the instructions been a bluff from the beginning? A misdirection.
The confusion kept Dan sharp, although his hands trembled every time he lifted them from the steering wheel. He knew that at some future point he might succumb to the shock, but right now he was sustained by his determination to find Cate.
So go back over it again. Jerry: what he’s done, why he’s doing it and what he’ll do next. Answer those questions and you can find him.
A possibility seemed to flash across his mind like a meteor, its illumination too fleeting to reveal the solution. Furious with himself, Dan turned on to the A272, back towards Brighton, towards home.
Where else could he go?
****
Stemper had positioned his Ford Focus on the far side of the car park, where it wouldn’t be noticed by Robert Scott’s accomplice. He felt sure that the man who approached the BMW was the same man he’d spotted yesterday afternoon at Caitlin’s home.
A slip-up, of sorts. Ultimately, though, it hardly mattered. Yesterday afternoon he hadn’t quite finalised the terms of his deal with Mark Templeton.
Now he watched the Corsa depart, waiting to see which way it went before he pulled out to follow. It was a slow single-lane road, and he knew he could afford to lag behind. There was little chance of losing it and even less chance of being noticed.
As a precaution, before he reached the car park he had pulled up in a quiet country lane and gagged Caitlin. She had thrashed and fought, to the extent that Stemper had been forced to cut off her oxygen for almost a minute before she would be subdued. Even then she remained wildly agitated, as if she’d guessed the fate he had in mind for her brother.
Killing Robbie had been child’s play: a silenced weapon, two shots fired at close range – head and heart – in an encounter where the victim had felt confident of his physical superiority. Stemper couldn’t have asked for more. But he’d taken a significant risk in staying at the scene. If the body was discovered by someone other than the accomplice, the police would be swarming all over the area.
But it had worked out perfectly, and he had told her so.
‘I’m on the trail of your brother’s friend. I believe he’s your friend, too, despite the lies you told me. He doesn’t look much like the e-fit, I have to say. And as for Robbie, I can promise that the two of you will be reunited very soon.’
****
Not Surrey: on that point, at least, Dan was clear. He felt increasingly sure that the instructions were a bluff. Jerry was here, in West Sussex, right now. It made sense that he’d minimise the risks by having a base much closer at hand.
Identifying the key to the mystery was a tougher prospect. Dan went over it again and again. Jerry had everything: all he had to do was deliver the papers, collect his payment and disappear. However hard it was for Dan to accept, it seemed likely that Cate was already dead or would die very soon.
But the bodies were stacking up. Once Robbie’s was found, it would spark a massive police investigation. Add to that his sister’s disappearance and the media were bound to go crazy, even before they made any connections to the Blakes. Or Martin. Or Hank O’Brien ...
Connections. Jerry couldn’t afford to leave any sort of trail that might lead the authorities to Templeton Wynne. Therefore he had to give them something else.
A different trail.
If Jerry knew about Hank O’Brien’s death, he’d also know that Cate and the two men who’d helped her were engaged in a conspiracy to evade justice – and thus couldn’t go anywhere near the police.
He’d be aware that one of those two men was Robbie – and Robbie had mentioned that he might have been followed. But Dan hadn’t noticed anything untoward.
They don’t know about me, he thought. Jerry, the Blakes: they had two of the three of us, Cate and Robbie. But they weren’t able to identify me.
I’m the key to this.
That was when he had it. That simple. That dangerous.
I’m the key to this.
CHAPTER 100
Cate felt sure that something dreadful had happened during the last stop. Jerry hadn’t been gone for long, but upon his return he had whistled with quiet satisfaction, then sat in silence
for about twenty minutes.
In Cate’s view, this was another stage of a plan that went beyond simply eradicating the people who stood in his way. If you considered it rationally, she decided, the other element he required for success was a fall guy. He had to craft a scenario that would supply the police with an obvious suspect.
Either it was her – which might explain why she was still alive – or it was somebody else: Robbie or Dan. Certainly one of the three. But that only worked if the other two were dead—
No. It worked even better if all three of them were dead.
He seemed to confirm that when they set off again. He said he was following the other man from the pub, and that soon she’d be ‘reunited’ with her brother. Cate didn’t believe a word of it.
She asked herself: what was the most reliable, the most elegant solution here?
And the answer filled her with terror.
****
The young man surprised Stemper by turning south when he reached Petworth. That wasn’t the natural route towards Box Hill. Maybe Robbie hadn’t told him about the Blakes. Maybe he was just going to return to Brighton and forget what he’d witnessed this evening.
That was fine with Stemper, though a showdown at the Blakes’ home would have made his job much easier.
He had killed Patricia and Gordon – and now Robbie – with the same gun. That gun would also be used on Cate, and then, most crucially, on their accomplice – but the young man’s death would be made to look self-inflicted. The result: a bizarre and puzzling sequence of events with no obvious motives, but with a chain of evidence so unequivocal that Stemper doubted anyone would search beyond this little group for the killer.
He’d arranged many such endings before: for peace campaigners, trade unionists, rogue government employees. So long as the deaths were grisly and plausible, it didn’t matter what unanswered questions they raised. In fact, sometimes his paymasters welcomed outlandish speculation. Let the conspiracy theorists have their fun. Nobody ever listened to conspiracy theorists.
