Walk in Silence

by J. G. Sinclair

  ‘It’s not my Mercedes. It belonged to Nikki. Thought of driving it across the border into Macedonia or maybe even down to Greece.’

  ‘Would have been a dumb idea. Car’s too distinctive.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Do the cops know you’re not dead?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘They looking for you?’

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘How’d you get past them?’

  ‘They’re only guarding the third floor and the entrance. There’s no one out back or on any of the other floors. I walked in.’

  ‘I think they’re in your apartment. At least they were. I haven’t heard anything down there for a while.’

  ‘That’s what I’m here to check. I need to get something.’

  ‘They’ve definitely got someone posted outside your front door. What you going to do, climb over the balcony and break in?’

  ‘No, you are.’

  ‘Me? Why the fuck would I want to do that?’

  ‘I’ve got cash.’

  ‘So have I.’

  ‘I’ll pay you.’

  ‘I don’t want your money.’

  ‘You haven’t heard the price.’

  ‘There is no price.’

  ‘Say a figure.’

  ‘I’m not interested, bitch. Haven’t done that climb for a while now and I’m coming up on this Royal Afghani. Only way I could do it was if I flew.’

  ‘What, then?’

  ‘What d’you mean, “What, then?” I’m not fucking interested. If you want to buy a bag of shit I’ll take your money, but this gun ain’t for hire. I’m not some dead bitch’s fucking earthly errand boy.’

  ‘“Earthly errand boy!” Where d’you come up with crap like that?’

  ‘On board the Royal Afghani express.’

  ‘Have you still got the camera in Nikki’s bedroom?’

  Jak made a face like he was confused, but didn’t say anything.

  ‘The pinhole camera you put in the light fitting. You still jerking off watching her get dressed in the morning?’

  ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’

  ‘Nikki knew you’d done it. She used to lie down on her bed and rub herself knowing that you were upstairs watching. I think it gave her a kick. Does it have sound? You got any of last night’s action on there? You might have recorded her getting murdered.’

  ‘C’mon, get the fuck out of here before I shout down and get the cops to arrest your ass. You’re putting shit in my head I don’t even want to think about.’ Jak made to grab the glass of rakia from Lule’s hand, but she was too quick for him. She sidestepped, downed the contents and handed it back with a coy smile. Getting all girly on him now. ‘I’ll blow you.’

  Jak made another face. Lule was a good-looking girl. She didn’t pay much attention to what she was wearing most of the time, but on the few occasions Jak had seen her made up he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  ‘If I climb down and get whatever you need from the flat, you’ll blow me?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘You gonna show me them titties too?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘What d’you want me to get?’

  ‘There’s a floorboard under my bed, it’s loose. If you pull it up you’ll see a box of nine-mil shells and my passport.’

  ‘That’s all?’

  ‘There’s a few other things in there, but that’s all I need.’

  *

  Pavli watched her walk straight across in front of his unmarked police car, heading for the rear of the building. A few minutes later and he would have missed her.

  After he’d left Keira at the airport he’d slipped in behind a pillar and watched her join the queue for the toilet. He wasn’t sure what he was hoping to see, but Pavli didn’t have to wait long to find out. Keira had started up a conversation with a young woman. Pavli figured it straight away: it was obvious they knew each other. The two females left the line and were deep in conversation as they made their way over to security. By the time they parted, Pavli was in no doubt that this was Lule, but there was no sign of the boy.

  He followed her out of the terminal and watched as Lule boarded the Tirana-bound bus. That was when it crossed his mind to drive back to the apartment block off of Bulevard Gjergj Fishta and wait for her to arrive. He was certain that was where she was headed. That’s how he’d come to be sitting there in the car park when Lule walked right in front of his car. He’d expected her to arrive sooner, and for a moment thought he might have missed her, but that didn’t matter: she was there now.

  Keeping a watchful eye on her as she strolled past the two uniforms sitting in the patrol car, Pavli felt for the leather safety strap looped over his service revolver and unclipped it. His radio crackled into life.

  ‘Been a double homicide up in Durrës, did you hear? Fresh out of the wrapper, this one: big guy in a suit and a chick with no clothes on. They’re waiting for an ID but rumour is the big guy’s connected.’

  ‘I haven’t been listening,’ replied Pavli.

  ‘You want us to stay here or head up and see what’s happening?’

  ‘No, I need you here. You see the girl’s heading around the back?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘She look dead to you?’

  ‘Maybe a bit pale, but she’s definitely still breathing.’

  ‘She’s the girl’s supposed to have been murdered last night.’

  ‘Got some balls. She smiled at us as she walked past. What d’you want us to do?’

  ‘Stay in the patrol car. She’ll be watching to see if you’re going to follow her. Leave her for a few minutes until she thinks she’s safe. When I get out and head in through the front, you two go around and block the rear.’

  *

  Jak clambered over the guard rail and lowered himself until his feet were resting on the top railing of the balcony below. From there – even though he was stoned – it was an easy manoeuvre to jump down. He checked the patrol car over by the entrance. The cops were still sitting inside, but they were on the blind side of the balcony, so there was no danger of being spotted.

  Jak slotted the key Lule had given him into the sliding door then eased it open just wide enough to squeeze through. At first he wondered what the kitchen chair was doing in the centre of the lounge, then he got it. It was obviously where the attackers had tied Nikki up while they beat her. The plastic tie-wraps used to restrain her lay on the floor underneath. The area around the chair was spattered with bloodstains highlighted by circles of chalk. Everything else in the room looked the same as usual, but a few shades darker. Jak looked for a light switch to fight off the gloom, then realised that they were already on. The idea that someone had died there just hours earlier was freaking him out.

  As Jak moved further into the room he caught the reek of disinfectant. He didn’t want to hang around – also, there was a cop right outside the front door who could walk in at any moment.

  Lule’s bedroom was a mess: the contents of her chest of drawers and wardrobe had been emptied onto the floor; there were clothes scattered everywhere. Jak lifted the corner of the valance then cleared some shoes and magazines from under the bed. Lule had described which floorboard to pull up, but he’d already forgotten. He rapped the floor gently with his knuckles until eventually a hollow sound told him which one to lift.

  With his arm at full stretch under the bed, Jak’s fingers played inside the cavity. At first there was nothing, then – tucked down at one end – he felt the box of shells and the passport. Jak pulled the objects clear and headed for Nikki’s bedroom. As he made to cross the hall Jak changed direction and walked silently towards the front door, his heart pounding as he leant forward to peer through the fisheye lens at the cop standing guard in the hallway.

  A banging noise from behind made him start. Jak checked his watch. He’d only been down there for five minutes and already the bitch upstairs was getting impatient.

  *

  Lule was st
aring at the full-colour image of Nikki’s bedroom on the monitor in Jak’s lounge. She stamped her foot on the floor again and saw Jak’s big droopy frame appear in the doorway. He stepped onto the bed and held the passport and box of bullets up to the lens waving up at her and smiling at the same time. Lule wasn’t in the mood.

  She crouched down and hissed, ‘Hurry up, you fucking prick.’

  Jak’s left hand was already wrapped around the bottom of one of the railings, steadying himself as Lule made her way out onto the balcony. He reached up and placed the box of nine mils on the balcony floor then pulled the passport from inside his belt. Lule caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. The cop she’d seen earlier talking to Keira in the airport had just stepped out of a car and was heading for the entrance of the building.

  Lule crouched down out of sight and hissed at Jak, ‘Give me the passport, there’s a cop coming.’

  ‘Yeah, and I’ve got dumbfuck tattooed on my forehead. I put this up there and you’ll slope off without keeping your side of the bargain. I’m at least three steps in front of your plan, babe.’

  He was leaning out from the balcony, holding the passport in front, dangling it between his thumb and forefinger. ‘You gonna do anything more than just blow me?’

  ‘Stop fucking about, Jak. Give it to me.’

  ‘Who’s fucking about? What else you gonna do for this?’

  ‘Whatever you want, Jak. Please, just give it up to me. There’s a fucking cop on his way.’

  ‘I’m gonna keep it with me until you fulfil your side of the agreement.’

  Lule knew there was no time. ‘Give me the fucking passport right now, you prick.’

  Jak was looking straight up at her, his puffy, round face smiling as he tried to put the passport back in his pocket. ‘It stays in my pants until you come and get it.’

  Lule knew what was going to happen before it did. Her brain was so far ahead of the event it was as if she was watching in slow motion.

  The passport slipped from between Jak’s fingers and fell to the ground – spiralling and flapping like a wounded bird. Instinctively Jak reached out and tried to grab it, but as he leant out further from the balcony his grip on the railing started to unravel. His trailing hand shot upwards, clutching for another railing, but missed. As he started to fall backwards Lule screamed and lunged forward to try and grab hold of his wrist, but it was too late.

  *

  Pavli jumped back just in time to avoid the body landing on top of him. He’d noticed the passport fall to the ground and stopped to look up. There was a scream and he caught sight of the girl stepping back from the edge of one of the balconies.

  Pavli recognised the face of the guy on the ground: he’d interviewed him the night before about the girl’s death. Scanning the balconies overhead for any further sign of movement, he tried to count which one the girl had been standing on. Then, with his weapon already drawn, he raced into the building.

  Taking the stairs three at a time, he soon reached the third floor. The officer on guard outside Lule’s apartment pushed upright off the wall when Pavli burst through from the stairwell.

  ‘Get this door open,’ barked Pavli. ‘And get on the radio: call for an ambulance.’

  The officer fumbled a set of keys from a loop attached to his belt and unlocked the door as quickly as he could. Pavli marched through the hallway, checking the rooms off until he came to a halt in the lounge. There was no sign of the girl anywhere. The only thing out of place was the open balcony door.

  Pavli was standing next to the chair in the centre of the room when he heard a door slam in the apartment above and realised he was on the wrong floor. He was back in the corridor in seconds. As he passed the officer Pavli yelled at him, ‘Tell the guys in the patrol car, no one is to leave the building. No one.’

  He crashed through into the stairwell and stopped dead, tilting his head to one side as he tried to get a fix on the hollow echo of footsteps. The harder he listened, the more it was obvious that they were not heading down as he’d first thought, but up.

  ‘Wait,’ shouted Pavli, ‘I just want to talk.’

  *

  Lule heard the cop shouting to her; the words distorted as they reverberated between the walls of the stairwell. She was already on the seventh floor with only one more to go and her lungs were burning. Lule made the top landing and burst through the fire door into the ‘drying green’ – a large open-plan area at the top of each block residents used to hang their washing.

  Lines of laundry stretched from one side to the other, billowing and fluttering in the warm breeze blowing through the wire-mesh fencing that enclosed the entire area. Lule sprinted headlong into the tangle of clothes, pushing her way between lines of drying sheets and dripping T-shirts until she reached the far end. She fumbled in her bag, looking for the key to the large metal connecting door that led through to the adjoining block of flats.

  Lule screamed in frustration.

  The key was hooked on the set she’d given to Jak.

  She pulled the Beretta from her bag and pointed it at the lock, but figured straight away it wouldn’t help. The idea had been to lock the door behind her and stop the cop from getting through, but if there was no lock . . .

  Lule was trapped. The last thing she wanted was to get into a gunfight with a cop, but if that was the only way out, then that was what she’d have to do.

  The fire door on the other side creaked open and Lule knew the cop was there: listening, waiting for her to make a move.

  *

  Pavli was breathing hard as he stood staring at the sea of washing rippling and twitching silently in front of him, knowing that the girl was somewhere on the other side. He let his breathing settle then said, ‘Lule? I know you’re up here. I just want to talk. There’s a lot going on here I don’t understand, but what I do know is this: for whatever reason, Miss Lynch, the lawyer, is trying to protect you, and if I’m right about her then there must be something she sees in you that’s worth protecting. I know you’re carrying a weapon, but let’s not go there. I’m going to place my gun on the floor and kick it out of reach so you know I’m serious. I have no reason to harm you. I have no wish to harm you.’

  Pavli lay face down on the rough concrete floor searching underneath the washing. He slid the gun out of reach, then stayed flat to the ground, watching for any movement – listening. As he lay there the distant sound of sirens could be heard over the sound of fluttering laundry, but that was all.

  There was no response from the girl.

  After a minute or so, Pavli got to his feet, retrieved his weapon and pushed his way through the hanging laundry to the far side. When he reached the connecting door leading to the next building he tried the handle, but it was locked.

  Pavli checked the ceiling for hatches and scanned the area for any other hiding places, but the drying area was a featureless box with no hidden nooks or recesses.

  Just as he was about to give up Pavli noticed a gap in the wire mesh to his right. The mesh had been bent back. The hole was barely big enough to squeeze his head and shoulder through. On the other side of the mesh was a metre-wide ledge that ran around the entire perimeter of the building. The apartment block fell away in a sheer drop. Pavli could see the two patrol officers standing sentry at the rear exit door.

  He ducked back inside and ran to the opposite wall. Through the mesh he could see down into the car park of the apartment block next door.

  Pavli slammed the palms of his hands against the mesh in frustration.

  Whether Lule heard it or not he couldn’t tell, but she turned, looked up and smiled as she picked her way between the parked cars, then headed out onto the Bulevard Gjergj Fishta.

  Twenty-three

  It was early Sunday evening when Keira’s aircraft finally touched down at Glasgow International. The prevailing winds blowing in from the Atlantic pitched and tossed the aeroplane all the way to the end of the runway. The drop in temperature forced Keira to pull her
jacket closed around her as she exited onto the air stairs.

  Including stopovers in Fiumicino and London, the journey had taken close to twelve hours.

  Plenty of time to think.

  Keira was surprised to see her new secretary Kate McMaster waiting for her as she emerged from the baggage reclaim hall into arrivals.

  ‘Everything okay?’ asked Keira.

  ‘Thought you might want a lift.’

  ‘It’s the weekend.’

  ‘Nothing on telly and I’ve finished my book.’

  ‘I could easily have got a taxi.’

  ‘I doubt you’d squeeze that fat lip into a taxi. You didn’t do it justice on the phone. I thought you said the swelling was going down.’

  ‘It took a few more knocks last night.’

  ‘I was starting to get worried when I didn’t hear from you.’

  ‘Things got a bit out of hand. Still not sure exactly what happened, but I couldn’t get to a phone.’

  ‘Looks like you’re chewing a bag of marbles. Will you be okay for tomorrow?’

  ‘The High Court’s seen worse than this.’

  ‘How did you leave it with the cop guy?’

  ‘Told him I’d keep in touch. He was very helpful, but I’m still not sure I trust him.’

  Keira was looking over Kate’s shoulder.

  ‘You okay?’ asked Kate.

  She had spotted a man with a close-shaved scalp coming towards her holding an envelope.

  ‘You are Keira Lynch?’

  The guy spoke with an Albanian accent and had a large tattoo of an eagle that covered one side of his neck.

  ‘Are you asking me or telling me?’

  ‘This is for you.’

  ‘Who from?’

  ‘Is a present to welcome you home.’

  The guy handed her the envelope, then turned and headed out of the terminal.

  ‘What happened there?’ asked Kate.

  ‘No idea.’

  ‘D’you know him?

  ‘No.’

  Keira tore a strip off the top of the envelope and tipped out the contents.