‘True. But I had some help — also former soldiers. Fight fire with fire, is my motto.’
He nodded slowly. ‘Like the former military cop you hang with, right? Palmer? He the one up the street?’ When Riley nodded, too surprised to speak when she realised he already had Palmer’s name, he added, ‘Nice work.’ He stared at the ceiling and she wondered whether he was trying to work out what had transpired with Lottie Grossman or how to turn the present situation to his best advantage.
She decided to help him out. ‘After the Spain thing, we thought Lottie had gone to ground for good, or maybe died. She was mixed up with some very dangerous people over there, and crossing them was stupid. Our mistake was forgetting about her. Lottie has a long memory and can’t stand being bested.’ She shrugged. ‘We just want to know where she is so we can watch our backs.’
Ragga nodded in understanding, the idea probably making sense in his world. ‘She never said why she was interested in finding you, but I figured it wasn’t to hold no tea party. She seemed pretty upset.’ He chuckled suddenly, his cheeks almost enveloping his eyes as he saw the humour in the situation. He nodded towards the laptop. ‘Now I can see why you’d want to know where she was. Sneaky old woman like that, I’d be pretty worried, too.’ He stopped smiling and looked at Riley. ‘Was it Palmer who shot Szulu, or one of your other military friends? Don’t bother denying it — I heard about that.’
Riley returned his look with a steady eye, hoping this wasn’t all about to go wrong. ‘It wasn’t Palmer,’ she replied. ‘It was another one. He was protecting me, that’s all. Szulu was lucky to come out with a small hole in his arm.’
But Ragga waved a dismissive hand and sat forward. ‘Shit, isn’t nothing for me to worry about. Szulu carries a gun, it’s his own fault if it goes off pointing the wrong way.’ He glanced at Slam and tapped his forefinger against his lip, the main man coming to an important decision in front of a junior employee. ‘Okay. Here’s how it is. And I’m doing this because I can do without the hassle right now, understand? I got business to attend to, and I don’t need distractions.’
‘I understand — and I’m grateful.’
‘Yeah, right. The old woman, she’s no longer…what shall we call it — a cause for concern.’
‘I see.’ Riley was careful not to react. Ragga spoke of Lottie Grossman’s fate as if it was no more serious than a bout of ‘flu.
‘Now, you’re thinking I killed her, right? You’re wrong, lady — I didn’t need to. She went and had a heart attack or something.’ He sat back and gestured towards his colleague. ‘Slam played the good Samaritan, took her to hospital. Told them he’d seen her fall over in the street and was doing his good deed for the day. What did they say to you, Slam?’
‘Took her to casualty,’ explained Slam economically, his voice like gravel in a bucket. ‘They took her in and worked on her. She in a bad way.’ He shrugged as if taking sick old ladies to hospital was the kind of thing he did on a regular basis. ‘I came away.’
‘So you see,’ said Ragga, ‘that’s the end of your problem. End of mine, too. She’s probably dead by now. You can check with the hospital, if you like. Ashford’s the place.’ He stared at her. ‘You wondering why I’m telling you this?’
‘You mean, apart from the fact that you don’t want the hassle?’
He grinned. ‘Because I’m feeling good today, that’s why. Grossman made a big down payment for my help. A kind of goodwill fee cum non-returnable deposit, seeing as how I didn’t know her. It was the only way I’d do business with a stranger like her. Now she’s out of it, I get to keep it.’ He shrugged. ‘So I’m ahead of the game.’ He sat back and sighed. ‘Slam’ll show you out.’
Riley rose, feeling a sense of relief. Then Ragga pointed a stubby finger at her, and gave her a look that froze her to the spot. ‘Know this, however: in case you’re considering it, Riley Gavin, don’t you never think of writing up no newspaper story about me, like you did Lottie Grossman. You do that, I’ll come visiting you… and your little cat.’ He bared his teeth and sat back again. ‘And one thing I promise you, lady: neither you nor any of your soldier friends will see me coming. You hear?’
Chapter 35
An hour later, Riley and Mitcheson were in the intensive care unit of Ashford hospital, waiting for an overworked staff nurse to let them see Lottie Grossman. The ward smelled of over-heated air and a tang of bleach, and had an atmosphere of intense but fragile calm, like the aftermath of a car crash moments before the victims realise what happened and begin to panic.
‘If you’re not family, I can’t admit you,’ the young Australian nurse repeated, shaking her head. ‘I’m sorry.’ Each utterance ended on an up-note, as if she were asking questions. She checked her watch and muttered beneath her breath. Clearly she was approaching the end of her shift and wanted shot of these two.
‘I understand that, I really do,’ said Riley. Having to bite back a feeling of irritation wasn’t entirely a pretence; they had told the nurse they were looking for an elderly neighbour who’d wandered off. Playing the part came surprisingly easy, faced with such staunch bureaucracy. ‘But if she is our neighbour, we can confirm her identity, can’t we? If not… well, what have you lost? Please. We’re desperately worried about her.’ She eyed the nurse intently, hoping compassion and common sense would penetrate her rulebook armour. At least she had confirmed that an elderly woman brought in by a passing motorist carried no form of identification, and appeared to be suffering from a stroke. Unfortunately, the motorist hadn’t hung around, so they couldn’t even confirm where she had been picked up.
A bell pinged in the background, and a porter came skimming along the corridor with a gurney. A shrill voice cried out behind a door further along, and a nurse came bustling out, shaking her head, the front of her uniform drenched with something dark and heavy.
‘Wait here.’ The staff nurse hurried away, leaving them in limbo, yet desperate to go inside and confirm what they expected to see.
‘So what exactly did you have in that bag?’ Riley asked Mitcheson. It was the first opportunity she’d had of broaching the subject after leaving Ragga’s place. After a quick consultation with Palmer to show they were all right, they let him use Riley’s car to take Szulu home and grabbed a cab for Ashford Hospital. On the way, Riley had clutched Mitcheson’s hand. They had said little, each wondering what they would find when they saw Lottie.
‘Nothing much,’ he said. ‘A couple of flash-bangs — stun devices — hidden inside spray cans of polish.’ He reached into his jacket and produced the feather duster, which had an aluminium handle. ‘And this.’ He twisted the handle and discarded the feathered end, revealing a long spike with a lethal point. ‘I called a mate who makes security equipment. It was all he could come up with at short notice. Fortunately, Ragga’s people weren’t as efficient as they might have been.’
Riley looked at him and wondered if anything ever fazed this man. ‘I was glad you were there. Szulu said Ragga was unpredictable; he was right.’ She told him of Ragga’s final threat if she ever wrote about him.
Mitcheson nodded. ‘Just stay off his radar and he’ll forget all about you. If he doesn’t,’ he added, ‘let me know.’
Before Riley could comment, the staff nurse returned. ‘Okay, I’ll let you see her. But only because we need to know who she is.’ She turned and led them along the corridor, her heels squeaking on the polished floor. They stopped outside a side ward, where the nurse pushed open the door and signalled for them to go inside.
‘Two minutes. I’ll be at the desk.’ She nodded and hurried away, letting the door swing shut behind her.
Riley stepped up to the bed, ignoring the cluster of tubes, wires and machinery at its head. A faint hum filled the air, and a low beeping sound came from a small monitor. She had a vague thought about how much power was being generated through all this equipment for such an evil old woman, and whether the nurse, if she knew Lottie’s background, would approve.
The figure
under the covers looked tiny and frail, more like a child than an adult. But the lined face was instantly familiar, the contours little changed since Riley had last seen her. Thinner, maybe, with more crepe-like sagging of the skin around the throat, but that could have been the effects of lying down coupled with the stroke. A smear of vivid lipstick was still evident at the corner of her mouth beneath the oxygen tube, and one hand lay curled like a frozen claw on the bedspread, the nails heavy with the glossy red polish that Riley remembered. There was no breathing movement beneath the covers, and Riley thought for a moment that Lottie had already gone.
She leaned closer, aware of Mitcheson moving in on the other side, and listened. Nothing at first. Then she heard a faint hiss of breath and smelled a sourness in the air around Lottie’s face. She felt nauseous and pulled away, her every instinct railing against being too close to this woman for a second longer than necessary.
In the same moment, she realised Lottie’s eyes were open and looking right at her.
Riley she felt the hairs stir on the back of her neck, and fought the temptation to step away from the bed and move out of the line of those twin points of cold light. Was that a lingering malevolence she saw deep inside those eyes, a burning glow that was all too familiar? Or was it her imagination, giving the old woman an ability to express hatred even though she was this close to death? She glanced up at Mitcheson, who shook his head in surprise. He leaned over until he was looking right into Lottie’s eyes.
As Riley moved back, she fancied she saw a flicker of movement in Lottie’s face. But she couldn’t be sure. Whatever had happened inside the old woman’s head had plainly done enormous damage, either severing any recognition or memory of people she had once held in such contempt, or at least nullifying any chance of showing a reaction to their presence. So, that was that. Strange that it should all end with not even a whimper, let alone anything approaching the scream of ugly defiance they might have expected. If only her legion of old enemies could see her now. They’d probably start doing a jig around the room.
The squeak of footsteps approached along the corridor. Riley glanced at Mitcheson. ‘What do you think?’
He nodded. ‘End of the road. I can’t pretend I’m sorry.’
As they turned away, the hand lying on the bedspread suddenly moved. It was a brief spasm, the fingers scrunching the material into a knot, the knuckles white and tensed as if carved in marble. At the same time, a sound came from Lottie’s mouth, and her eyes flickered. For a split second, Riley thought the old woman was about to sit up and spew one final burst of venom and hate at the world in general, and them in particular. But the movement was over in a second, and her hand released its grip on the covers. With that, her body seemed to relax and shrink even further, and her eyes closed just as the door opened.
The staff nurse took a second to evaluate the situation, then hit a button on the wall before shooing Riley and Mitcheson out into the corridor. As they walked away, a flurry of figures hurried past them into the room, and the door closed with a final swish.
Five minutes later, the nurse approached, shaking her head. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘She’s gone. I’m sorry.’ She looked at the two of them. ‘Was she who you thought? Grossman, wasn’t that the name?’
Riley nodded. At least they had awarded Lottie the courtesy of having her name back, rather than going unknown into whatever private hell might await her. Not that she would have thanked them for it. In the absence of an address, they had put down the house she had once owned in Buckinghamshire. The police would soon make the connection.
‘Is there anyone we should notify?’ the nurse continued, reaching for a clipboard and pen. ‘Family members? Friends?’
Mitcheson place a hand on Riley’s arm. ‘No,’ he said simply, voice empty of emotion. ‘She wasn’t the type.’
Chapter 36
They waited for a cab outside the main entrance. After the stifling atmosphere of the wards and the heavy aura surrounding the late Lottie Grossman, the fresh air was a blessed relief.
‘What are you going to do now?’ Mitcheson asked.
‘I have to meet Palmer. There are some things to check about Radnor and his operation. What about you?’ She felt guilty, knowing the question implied that whatever she was going to do did not include him. But Mitcheson appeared not to notice.
‘I’m going back to the States tomorrow.’ He raised a hand as Riley began to protest. ‘It’s only for a few days, maybe a week, so I can tie up some loose ends. Then I’ll be back — I promise.’ He smiled and touched her face. ‘You don’t think I could give up being around you for too long, do you? Life’s too boring otherwise.’
‘All right. But stay in touch.’
‘I will.’
They said their goodbyes, then Mitcheson saw an empty cab about to leave and pulled away reluctantly. Riley waved him off, then rang Palmer.
‘Can you pick me up?’ she said, and gave him the address. Suddenly, without Mitcheson by her side, she felt surprisingly vulnerable.
Palmer must have sensed something in her voice. ‘You okay?’ he asked.
‘I’m fine,’ she lied. ‘Just hurry, will you?’
Fifteen minutes later, she and Palmer were on their way to Hayes. She related the scene with Lottie Grossman, after which Palmer gave a pragmatic shrug.
‘She’d have killed us, given the chance,’ he reminded her, steering skilfully round an indecisive learner-driver. ‘You shouldn’t feel anything but relief. But,’ he turned and gave her a knowing smile, ‘you know that.’
Riley decided to call Jimmy Gough and check the current situation at the office block. He agreed to call her back. When he did so five minutes later, it was with surprising news.
‘There are men in suits all over the place,’ he reported. ‘Most of them are on the first floor. Nobby says Azimtec have cleared out. Seems like they might have had a tip-off.’
Riley relayed the information to Palmer, who said, ‘Does he know where Radnor lives?’
‘The cops have been asking the same thing,’ said Jimmy in reply. Nobby says there’s no record.’
Riley thanked him for his help and switched off. She said to Palmer, ‘the watchers Charlie told us about jumped too late.’
Palmer nodded. ‘Or one of them gave Radnor the nod. He’s probably still got contacts on the inside. I doubt we’ll find anything at the VTS place, either, but it’s all we’ve got.’
‘Do you really think Radnor’s still around?’
‘Possibly. If he’s been bringing in arms, he’ll have prepared for the eventuality of something going wrong. It’s standard procedure: always have a fall-back situation, even if it means going to ground and abandoning everything.’
‘And?’
‘He’ll keep his head down long enough to gather his resources, then he’ll disappear. With his training, they’ll never find him.’
As they approached the VTS building, Palmer suddenly snapped his fingers. ‘Hang on. The taxi firm Radnor used. What was the name?’
She shook her head. ‘I didn’t notice.’ She rang Jimmy Gough and asked him.
‘Easy,’ he replied cheerfully. ‘We always used the same firm — White Tower Cabs. They’re just round the corner.’ He reeled off the number from memory. ‘Ask for Poppy — she’s the owner. She owes me for all the business I put her way. If she get difficult, threaten her with a visit from the VAT people.’
Riley made the call, then got out of the car to join Palmer, who was surveying the commercial estate. They were parked just along the road from VTS, behind a large canvas-covered trailer. The area was quiet, with the same mix of cars, trucks and skips as before. The space in front of VTS was deserted and strewn with litter.
The roller shutter under the VTS sign was up, revealing an empty space with just a few scraps of paper and straw packaging gusting around the inside. Sparrows flew in and out, darting up to the steel roof beams and perching on the workbench to preen, already colonising the space while it
was free of movement.
Palmer and Riley walked cautiously through the building and out the rear door to the back yard, where the drum that had held the papers Palmer had rescued was now cold and lifeless, still lying on its side. They checked the offices, but other than a mess of discarded documents, and the usual array of admin paperwork, now abandoned, there was nothing useful to be found.
‘SkyPrint?’ suggested Riley.
Palmer nodded and led the way to the SkyPrint unit, where he pushed through the front door into a small reception area with a counter across the back wall, and a single door. In the background was the hum of machinery. Clearly it was business as usual, whatever may have happened along the road. Riley rang a bell and they waited for someone to appear.
‘Can I help?’ A man in a blue shirt and jeans stepped through the door behind the counter. He had thinning hair and a double chin, and was wiping his hands on a cloth.
‘Is Mr Perric in?’ said Riley.
The man shook his head. ‘Mr Perric doesn’t work here anymore. What can I do for you?’ He looked from Riley to Palmer with a touch of impatience, and pointed to a printed sign on the wall. ‘We only see reps by appointment.’
‘Do we look like sales reps?’ said Palmer. When the man said nothing, he continued, ‘What happened to Perric? I thought he was the boss.’
‘He was. But no longer. Who wants to know?’
Palmer ignored the question and gave the man a hard stare. ‘We’re investigating certain allegations about Mr Perric. We’d like to speak to him.’
‘Are you the police? I want to see some ID.’
‘Do yourself a favour,’ muttered Palmer tiredly. He took out his wallet and flashed a card, and Riley recognised the Ministry of Defence logo. ‘I’d say you’ve got about an hour before this place is crawling with every kind of official suit you can imagine, so why not make it easier?’
The man looked taken aback for a moment, licking his lips and looking at them each in turn. He eventually nodded. ‘Perric was let go yesterday morning. His contract was terminated.’
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