Hunting Ground

by L J Morris

  Durand nodded. ‘I can do that, no problem.’

  ‘Okay, we know there are only two of them in there, so it shouldn’t be a problem, but be careful. We have to make sure Callum is safe. Harry, you stay here and watch for us coming out, we might need to leave in a hurry. If anything looks bad, or if the other guy comes back, give us a long blast on the horn. Everyone ready?’

  They all nodded.

  ‘Good. Let’s go.’

  They left the people carrier; Sinclair and McGill worked their way to the back of the house while Durand crossed the road and walked up the path to the front door.

  McGill and Sinclair were in the rear garden of the house. The sloping lawn and flower beds were overgrown and an old three-seater settee was propped up in one corner. It was a mess, but it fitted in with the neighbours’ gardens on both sides. The windows at the back of the house were boarded up, apart from one. There was a grimy, cracked pane of glass above the single-storey extension that wasn’t.

  McGill checked through a one-inch gap in the boards covering the window next to the back door. He could see the two men sitting in the kitchen, eating. McGill raised two fingers, signalling to Sinclair. Porter must be on his own upstairs.

  Sinclair climbed up the drainpipe and onto the roof of the extension. They were running the risk of being seen, but people in this area tended to mind their own business, unwilling to get involved in anything that might be gang or drug related. This house had all the giveaway signs that showed it might belong to a dealer.

  She checked the un-boarded window. One corner of the glass was broken and covered with a supermarket carrier bag. She moved the bag to one side and looked in. The window was at the end of a long hallway. She could see right through to the front of the house, there were no signs of movement. She was about to open the window and climb in when a man appeared from a doorway on the left-hand side of the hallway. Shit, there were three of them. The Westminster sniper had somehow got back into the house without them seeing him. She held up a finger towards McGill.

  Luke Durand knocked on the front door. The two men in the kitchen immediately drew their weapons. The man upstairs did the same and moved to the window that overlooked the front door. Durand was standing with his back to the door and his hands in his pockets. He spun around and knocked again, louder.

  McGill watched the two men in the kitchen. They nodded to each other and one of them moved out into the hallway. McGill aimed at the man left in the kitchen and held up three fingers on his left hand.

  Sinclair aimed her weapon at the man upstairs and watched for McGill’s signal.

  The second man from the kitchen walked down the hallway and looked through the spyhole in the front door. If they all stayed quiet, their visitor would walk away. Everyone waited.

  Durand knocked a third time. The man behind the door holstered his weapon. He was going to have to get rid of this prick. He unlocked the door and swung it open. ‘Whatever it is you want, you’re in the wrong place.’

  Durand looked past the man and down the hallway. ‘Is Dave in?’

  ‘There is no Dave here, fuck off.’

  Durand put his hands back in his pockets. ‘Come on, mate. Everyone knows Big Dave. I want to buy some gear off him.’

  The man stepped out of the door. ‘There’s no Dave here, you prick.’

  McGill counted down with his fingers: three, two, one; he and Sinclair fired simultaneously, each of their targets dropping where they stood. The man at the door spun round at the thud of the bodies hitting the floor. Durand stepped forward and clamped his left hand around the man’s mouth, slicing open his throat with the butterfly knife that had appeared seemingly from nowhere. He pushed the man into the hallway, entered the house and closed the door behind him.

  Upstairs, Sinclair had climbed in through the window and made sure her target was dead. She found the key to Porter’s room and opened the door.

  Porter sat up on his mattress, he thought he was hallucinating. The figure framed in the doorway looked just like Ali Sinclair. He rubbed his eyes and looked again.

  Sinclair turned on the light. ‘Callum. Let’s go.’

  Porter managed to stand, although he struggled to stay upright – his legs were weak and one of his knees was swollen. His face was bruised and bloody. With no need to go to the bank again, the three thugs had seen no reason to hold back. He held out his arms and staggered towards Sinclair.

  Sinclair grabbed him and held him up. ‘Callum. What did those bastards do to you?’

  Porter was in tears. ‘I knew you’d come for me, Ali. I dreamt you would, you and Frank.’

  Sinclair shouted down the stairs. ‘Frank. Get up here.’

  McGill had kicked open the back door and fired another shot into the man in the kitchen, just to make sure. He heard Sinclair shout and ran into the hallway. He jumped over the man Luke had killed and bounded up the stairs. Durand kept watch through the front door spyhole.

  Sinclair was struggling to hold up Porter when McGill arrived. ‘Help me, Frank.’

  McGill grabbed hold of Porter and lifted him onto his shoulders. ‘Right, everyone out.’

  McGill carried Porter down the stairs, followed by Sinclair; Durand opened the front door and waved to Nash, who had the engine of the people carrier running. She let off the handbrake and turned the corner. As soon as she arrived at the end of the path, the other three left the house. Durand took the lead, checking both ways along the street before running to the car and jumping in the front. McGill followed carrying Porter, with Sinclair bringing up the rear after she had closed the front door of the house. Once they were all inside, Nash floored the accelerator, the wheels screeched as she pulled out and sped away from the house.

  Chapter 35

  Lancaster walked along the anonymous corridors of Vauxhall Cross towards another meeting with Kelvin Hadley. This time he would have to be conciliatory, he would have to pander to his boss’s ego to get what he needed. It wasn’t going to be easy, but Carter and Kinsella’s survival could depend on it. There had already been one attempt on their lives, Lancaster had to get them out of prison and somewhere safe. Once again, he knocked on the door of C’s office and waited. This was the game they always played – Hadley letting Lancaster know who was in charge.

  ‘Come in.’

  Lancaster opened the door and walked into C’s office.

  Hadley looked up from the papers on his desk. ‘Edward, come in and close the door.’

  Lancaster took off his coat, hung it on the back of the door and sat down.

  Hadley closed the folder on his desk and looked up at Lancaster. ‘So, Edward, what can I do for you? You said it was important.’

  Lancaster took a deep breath. Hadley was already winding him up, suggesting that whatever they normally had a meeting about didn’t matter. ‘Yes, sir, very important. It’s about Simeon Carter and Danny Kinsella.’

  Hadley sat up at the mention of their names. ‘Have you found new evidence, Edward? I knew they were guilty all along.’

  This was going to be more difficult than Lancaster needed it to be. ‘No, sir, no new evidence and they aren’t guilty of anything.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  Lancaster let out a small sigh. ‘Because they work for me.’

  Hadley stared at him, his anger rising. ‘WHAT? You mean to tell me that these … terrorists have been working for us, all this time, and you never mentioned it?’

  ‘I couldn’t be sure who to trust. We had no idea of Vadim’s identity, he could be any one of us.’

  Hadley calmed down a little. ‘Okay, I can understand the logic, but you still don’t know who Vadim is, do you?’

  Lancaster paused. He didn’t want to tell anyone what Sinclair had said about the Home Secretary until he was in a position to do something about it. With Vadim killing off anyone who could identify him, the fewer people who knew who he was, the safer they would all be. ‘No, sir. We don’t know who Vadim is, yet.’

  Hadley sh
ook his head. ‘Maybe we need to bring in someone else to do the job.’

  Lancaster was seething. He gritted his teeth and pushed the anger away. ‘That’s your decision, sir, but I’m here to talk about Carter and Kinsella.’

  Hadley grinned, he had won that round. ‘What do you mean when you say they work for you? They don’t work directly for us, do they? I don’t want any of this traced back to me.’

  Lancaster couldn’t believe it. With everything that was going on, all he was worried about was his own arse. ‘You don’t have to worry about that, they were working unofficially.’

  ‘Well, that’s one thing. What were they doing for you?’

  Lancaster swallowed. The next part might go down even worse. ‘They’re part of a team. The team I put together with Sinclair. They’re Sinclair’s backup.’

  Hadley slammed his fist on the table. ‘Holy shit, Lancaster. I knew someone was helping Sinclair, but I never thought it would be you. She’s an escaped convict, for Christ’s sake.’

  Lancaster’s anger was going to get the better of him. ‘She’s a wrongly convicted, former intelligence officer. One of our own who we abandoned in a world of shit.’

  Surprisingly, Hadley was suddenly the one who was contrite. He held up his hand, palm towards Lancaster. ‘Okay, okay. I appreciate she’s had it rough, and she helped sort out that business with Bazarov, but she’s still on the run. Do you know where she is?’

  ‘Not exactly, sir, but I’m sure Simeon Carter can get a message to her.’

  Hadley sat forward, his elbows resting on the desk. ‘What is it you want me to do, Edward?’

  Lancaster sensed that, for once, Kelvin was open to being helpful, at least, it appeared that way. Whether Hadley was genuine or not, Lancaster needed to take advantage of any favours he could get. ‘We need to get Carter and Kinsella out of prison. Their lives are in danger.’

  ‘And what can they do for me?’

  There was the old Kelvin, only thinking of himself. ‘Sinclair knows the location of a folder of evidence that proves the conspiracy – proves who Vadim really is. She’ll only give it to us if Carter is safe.’

  Hadley nodded. ‘And if Carter dies, we lose Sinclair and the folder.’

  ‘Yes, sir. If Carter and Kinsella die, Sinclair will disappear and take the folder with her.’

  Hadley stood up and paced around the office. ‘We can’t allow that, Edward. We need that folder, we need to know what’s inside.’

  Lancaster didn’t turn around to look at Hadley, another part of the game. ‘They are back in court tomorrow afternoon. It would be in all our interests if they were granted bail.’

  Hadley returned to his desk. ‘I’ll make some calls, call in some favours, but you’ll have to do something for me, Edward.’

  Lancaster had known he would be made to pay for this. ‘What is that, sir?’

  Hadley sat down again. ‘Once Carter is out of prison, I need Sinclair to come in. I need her to hand the folder to me. Can you arrange that?’

  Lancaster knew that was going to be a tough ask. Hadley obviously wanted the credit. Sinclair wouldn’t like that. ‘I’m sure I can arrange something, but the meeting will have to be somewhere neutral. There’s no way she’s going to come here.’

  Hadley slid a brown file across the desk. ‘That’s a report on three killings that took place yesterday. One of the victims appears to be the Westminster sniper. From witness descriptions, it looks like Sinclair and McGill were involved.’

  Lancaster flicked through the pages; it looked like Sinclair and McGill’s handiwork. ‘I had no idea they were up to anything like this, sir, but it looks like they’ve done us another favour.’

  Hadley drummed his fingers on the desk and slowly nodded. ‘Look, Edward, we’ve had our differences in the past, and we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but we’re on the same side here. We can’t have Sinclair and McGill running around London acting as judge, jury and executioner.’

  Lancaster retrieved his coat from the back of the door. ‘I’m sure, if we can convince her that we know she’s innocent, I can talk her into coming in.’

  ‘Okay, Edward, and let’s keep this between us.’

  Lancaster opened the door. ‘Will do, sir.’ He walked out and closed the door behind him.

  Chapter 36

  They were all sitting upstairs at the Black Lion; Nash was sitting at her desk, McGill and Sinclair sat on one of the leather sofas and Durand sat opposite them on the other. The door opened and Barbara showed Porter into the room.

  Sinclair jumped up and went to help him. She guided him to the sofa and helped him sit down. His face was bruised but he had been cleaned up and had the worst gashes treated. His left hand was bandaged and his right knee was strapped up. Sinclair sat on the arm of the sofa and put her arm around him. ‘How do you feel, Callum?’

  He tried to force a smile but his face hurt too much. ‘I feel a lot better after that night’s sleep, but I’m still aching pretty much everywhere.’

  ‘The bastards had no reason to do that to you.’

  ‘They just kept asking me where the folder was, and I explained that we’d thought it was in the box. They didn’t believe me, obviously.’

  Harriette walked to the sofas and sat next to Luke. ‘You’ll stay here until you’re well. My mum will look after you. She used to be a nurse.’

  Porter nodded. ‘Barbara’s been fantastic. I wanna thank you all for what you did. I really thought I was going to die.’

  McGill put his hand on Porter’s leg. ‘You’re our friend, Callum. I don’t have many, so I need to look after the ones I’ve got.’

  Sinclair walked to the desk and picked up a notebook. She read the notes she had scribbled down the night before. ‘I’ve tried to work out where the folder might be, Callum, but it’s no use. Justin left the clues for you. Can you figure anything out at all?’

  Porter shuffled in his seat. ‘Yeah. When we got to the bank there was just this in the box.’ He handed the book to McGill.

  McGill looked at the worn paperback. It had bloodstains on it now where Porter had clung on to it as he was beaten up. He opened it. Inside the cover was a simple inscription:

  To Justin, love Callum.

  ‘This was Justin’s?’

  ‘Yes, it was. I bought it for him shortly after we met. When I saw it in the box, I knew it was a message from him.’

  McGill handed the book back to Porter. ‘What’s the message?’

  ‘When we first met I worked at the bank, but we actually met at a second-hand bookstore. The first present I bought for him was that copy of The Count of Monte Cristo. He loved that book, he used to read it all the time. He wouldn’t have left it there without a reason.’

  Sinclair had discarded her notebook; nothing she had written matched what Porter was telling them. ‘How does the book help us find the folder?’

  ‘Have any of you read the book, do you know the story?’

  Sinclair nodded. ‘A long time ago, they made us read it at school.’

  McGill grinned. ‘All we read at my school was The Dandy. I think I’ve seen the film, though.’

  Porter held up the book. ‘In the story, Edmond Dantès is wrongly convicted and sent to prison.’

  Sinclair pointed at the book. ‘I know that feeling.’

  ‘He escapes, and seeks revenge after retrieving a great treasure hidden on the island of Monte Cristo.’

  McGill was listening but didn’t see the connection. ‘I remember that bit in the film, but how does it help us find the folder?’

  Porter tried to sit forward but the pain in his ribs stopped him. He winced but carried on. ‘The name of the bookstore was Monte Cristo Books.’

  Sinclair placed a cushion behind Porter and helped him sit up. ‘Do you think Justin hid the folder there?’

  ‘Thanks, Ali. It would make sense. We spent a lot of time there, it has a little coffee shop next door. We got to know the owner quite well. If Justin had wanted to hide the folde
r somewhere only I would think of, that would be a good choice.’

  ‘Did you tell the three arseholes in the house any of this?’

  Porter shook his head. ‘They didn’t ask about the book, they thought it was some kind of joke, and I didn’t make the connection until later. I only held on to it because it reminded me of Justin; made what they were doing to me a little easier to bear.’

  McGill looked Porter in the eye. ‘A lot of big, tough men would have buckled under that kind of torture, Callum. You’re a brave lad. Never forget that.’

  McGill’s words meant a great deal to Porter. He had never considered himself brave or strong. He smiled. ‘Thanks, Frank.’

  Sinclair rested her hand on Porter’s back. ‘Okay, Callum, you need to rest for a couple of days.’ She looked at Nash. ‘Do you know this shop, Harry? We need to check it out, see if anyone’s watching it.’

  Nash picked up her phone. ‘Leave it with me.’

  Chapter 37

  The steel door of the prison rolled open and Simeon Carter walked out, followed by Danny Kinsella. They had both been surprised the previous day when their solicitor had told them they were being released. Carter knew how things like this normally worked: he knew he owed somebody; someone would be expecting something in return for this.

  Kinsella looked up at the sky and took a deep breath. ‘I told you they’d realise it was a mistake.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be so sure, Danny. I think Edward had a hand in this.’

  ‘So, what do we do now, Simeon?’

  Carter looked at a black Range Rover that was parked a few metres away from them at the side of the street. The car slowly reversed towards them and stopped in front of Carter. The driver lowered the passenger-side window and leaned across the seat. ‘Mr Carter?’

  Carter lowered his head and peered through the window. ‘That’s right.’