‘Why there, though?’ said Amar. ‘Why a tower block?’
‘Because Anne Marie, aka Mae Blacklock, killed that boy Trevor Cunliffe in a partially demolished house in Scotswood. They were putting up the tower blocks at the time. This was the Sixties when they were going to be the future of architecture. Once that street was demolished, they built the Elms in its place.’
‘This Tom Haig guy’s done his homework.’
‘Yeah. But he’s still a prick.’
Amar gave a grim laugh. ‘I’ll call Nattrass.’
Donovan kept his eyes on the road. Nearly there.
Oh Christ …’ DI Diane Nattrass stood before the burning block of flats and thought: As if my night couldn’t get any worse.
The fire engines had arrived and evacuation procedures implemented. It was clear which flat had been targeted and once she found out who lived there, she could guess why. If Donovan had just given her up when she’d asked. She would talk to him later, and he wouldn’t enjoy it.
The firefighters had the blaze under control. Thankfully it hadn’t had time to spread and was contained in one area. Everyone in the surrounding flats had been evacuated as a precaution. And luckily there had been no casualties which, given what was intended, was near miraculous.
‘Boss …’
Oh dear, she thought, I spoke too soon.
‘Boss …’ DS Stone, one of the junior officers on her team, came running towards her, out of breath. ‘We’ve found a body,’ he said, between gasps.
‘Oh God …’
‘Behind the flats. Looks like …’ He paused to get his breath back. ‘Looks like he jumped Or fell.’
‘Dead?’
‘No, boss. Alive. Ambulance is there now. Paramedics trying to work out the damage.’
‘Male or female?’
‘Male.’
‘How old?’
‘Not young.’
Nattrass nodded. ‘Jesus, those …’ She composed herself. ‘Thanks for letting me know. Get someone with him in case he comes round. Get a team of uniforms going round the estate. In fact, get everyone who’s not doing anything to do that. I want people talking. I want whoever did this hauled in. I want an identity for that man. And quickly. And I want the fucking book thrown at whoever caused this. Make sure everyone understands that, right?’
He smiled. ‘Yes, boss.’ Breath regained, he ran off.
Nattrass looked again at the blazing flats as her phone rang.
‘Nattrass.’
‘Hi,’ said the voice on the other end. ‘It’s Amar. Amar Miah.’
‘Good,’ she said. ‘Has Joe Donovan decided he knows where Anne Marie Smeaton is?’
‘What?’
‘Is he going to hand her over to me for protection?’
‘ER … no, but—’
‘Then this conversation is over.’
She snapped the phone shut, returned it to her pocket. She was weary beyond sleep, functioning on caffeine and adrenalin. She wanted a long bath, a warm bed. She knew they were still a long way off.
Damn that bastard Donovan, she thought.
Tess Preston couldn’t suppress her glee. The paper was still running with her exclusive, even if the news had been leaked by other media. But they had given her a proviso – they wanted an interview with Mae Blacklock. She had agreed, not knowing how to go about it, but determined to succeed. After all, she knew all too painfully, chances like this didn’t come along too often.
The mob had scattered, naturally. Dispersed back to their ordinary lives, spending sleepless nights until morning when they had to cope with the guilt of what they had done. Tess smiled. Not bad, that line. She might use it. Alongside a little interview – anonymous, of course – of one of the angry mob. And for the good news: the police didn’t have Mae Blacklock. She was in hiding, undoubtedly, but not with them. Her informants had told her. This was all good because she knew something they didn’t. She knew the address of that place she saw her outside of, Albion House. She was sure Mae Blacklock was there.
She walked round the estate, keeping away from the police, watching the firefighters tackle the blaze. Collins should be around somewhere, snapping away. Despite the fact that they weren’t talking, he was still a professional and knew a good story when he saw one. Didn’t matter. They didn’t have to like each other to work together. That wouldn’t stop them getting paid. She wouldn’t mind a few more pills, though. Adrenalin was keeping her going for now, staving off the comedown, but she knew it would happen eventually.
She walked away from the blaze, down a narrow, deserted alleyway. The estate didn’t scare her tonight. There was too much happening, too many people around. She had summoned up courage to head to the dark heart of the estate, hoping to find someone to talk to. Flash a bit of cash, see what happened. They wouldn’t hurt her. They wouldn’t dare. She turned a corner, adjusted her eyes. It was very dark here, the crunching underfoot telling her that someone had taken out the streetlighting forcibly. She felt a stab of fear and hesitated, wondering who could live here. And in that instant thought about turning back.
When she was grabbed from behind.
She didn’t have time to react, to turn around, even, the attack was so sudden. Her attacker was quick and ferocious. He punched Tess in the left kidney, which made her crumple at the knee, then twisted her arm so that she fell hard to the ground. Tess tried to cry out but as her body hit the glass-strewn tarmac, the wind was knocked from her and all she could do was wheeze and whisper. Once she hit the ground her attacker kicked her in the ribs. Twice. Tess clutched her side, rolled over. Her attacker bent down over her. Tess saw his face.
‘What …’
It was Renny. And he was holding a very large, fierce-looking knife.
Peta pulled up in front of the Albion offices, turned off the engine. She looked round, expecting to see Donovan’s car in its usual space but it was empty. She got out, went into the building.
‘’S me!’ she called out. ‘I’m back.’
No one replied. She opened the door to the main office, entered. Amar was sitting at his desk. He looked up as she entered, his face grave.
‘Where is everyone?’
Amar moved the headset away his face as he spoke to her. ‘Joe’s over in Scotswood. His daughter and Anne Marie’s son have been kidnapped.’
‘Where?’
‘Tower block. The Elms.’
She didn’t need to hear anything else. ‘Tell him I’m on my way.’
Peta ran back out of the door and straight to her car. Drove off as fast as she could.
Donovan dials the number, waits. He looks up at the tower block, imposing against the night sky. He knows the phone will be answered. He is counting on the curiosity of the man on the other end to respond to a number he does not know. He is right. The phone is answered.
‘Tom Haig?’
‘Who’s this?’
‘Joe Donovan. I believe you’ve got my daughter.’
A sound, somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. ‘Where’s Anne Marie?’
‘She’s on her way. You’ve got me first.’
‘I don’t want to talk to you.’
‘Really? Then why did you send me that note the other night? Telling me about the dead boys?’
‘Because you would have had no idea if I hadn’t sent it.’
‘So you wanted to get my attention. Well, you’ve got it. I presume you’re on the roof? I’m coming up. If you decide to do anything before I get there, you’re dead.’
There was doubt in Haig’s voice. ‘Are you threatening me?’
‘No. Just giving you a statement of fact. I’m coming up. Be ready to let them go.’
He slides the phone shut, looks at Flemyng. Donovan’s face is like an Ancient Greek theatre mask styled for revenge. Fixed. Unchangeable.
‘Come on,’ he says, and enters the building. Flemyng follows him.
29
Tess looked up, too stunned to speak, too hurt to move. Renny crouched over her
, his left fist grabbing a handful of jacket, his right hand holding the knife to Tess’s throat. Tess had never been so scared in her life.
‘Please … don’t …’
Renny sneered at him. ‘Don’t what?’
Tess closed her eyes. ‘Don’t kill me … please, don’t kill me …’
Renny’s eyes were lit by the kind of light Tess had often written about but never experienced first-hand. She hoped she would never experience it again.
‘Please …’ said Tess. ‘I’ve got money. Is that what you want? I’ve got money.’ She tried to get her hand into her pocket. ‘Take it …’
Renny tightened his grip. ‘I don’t want your fuckin’ money. Bitch. Cunt.’
‘Then … what … what … d’you want? Tell me, and I’ll get it …’
Renny leaned closer, hissed in Tess’s ear. ‘You were gonna give me up, weren’t you?’
‘What?’
‘Don’t fuckin’ lie. You told me. You said it. You’re gonna give me up. Tomorrow.’
Tess was genuinely confused. ‘What … what are you talking about?’
Angered by Tess’s words, Renny gripped her jacket even tighter. Tess winced in pain. The knife came closer to her neck. ‘You know what. Don’t pretend you don’t.’
Tess said nothing.
‘Calvin. You’re gonna announce who killed Calvin tomorrow. You said. You told me.’
‘Yeah, that’s right. I am. But what’s …’
‘You think I’m gonna let you do that?’
‘I don’t know. Why …’ And then Tess realized. She had made a mistake. A big mistake. The biggest she had ever made. She looked up into Renny’s eyes. Saw in them the worst things she had ever seen. ‘No … you … you killed Calvin?’
‘Yeah. Little cunt. Dissin’ me in front of all those people. Needed a fuckin’ lesson.’
‘And … and Pez?’
‘Don’t be fuckin’ stupid. Pez was my mate.’
‘Oh God … oh God … this is so wrong …’
Renny’s breathing was getting harsher, faster. He was pumping himself up, getting ready to end it. Tess could tell. Tess thought fast.
‘I wasn’t going to name you. Honestly. I didn’t know it was you.’
Renny was still breathing heavily. The knife glittered darkly. He paused. ‘Then who were you goin’ to blame?’
‘Mae Blacklock,’ Tess said as if it was obvious. ‘The child killer. She’s moved back here. The boy I asked you to look out for. His mother. I thought … I thought she did it. Did both of them.’
Renny stared at her.
‘That’s who I was going to say. Honestly.’
Renny’s expression changed. He looked suddenly haunted. Like he had made a huge mistake and there was no way to make up for it. Tess noticed the change, tried to press forward. Talk her way out of it.
‘Look, come on, Renny. Let’s just forget this ever happened, yeah? I didn’t hear it and you didn’t say it. We get out of this alley, go our separate ways and that’s the end of it, yeah? Come on, what d’you say?’
Renny sat back, loosened his grip on Tess. Seemed to be thinking. Tess decided to press the advantage.
‘That’s right, Renny. Let’s just let it go, yeah? Get up like mates, walk away. And that’s that. Yeah?’
Renny stood up. Tess couldn’t believe it. She was going to live. She had talked her way out of it. She was going to live. Brilliant. Just wait until she wrote this up for the paper. How close she had come to death and how she had escaped. Yeah. Imagine the headlines for that one …
Renny was looking at her.
‘What?’ said Tess.
‘I don’t trust you,’ said Renny. ‘You’re a liar. You’d get out of here and you’d tell everyone.’
Tess swallowed hard. It was like the boy had just read her mind. She gave him what she hoped was her most reassuring smile. ‘Come on, Renny, don’t be like that …’
She took a step towards the boy. And that was when Renny stabbed her.
Tess looked down at her stomach. She staggered backwards. Felt another blow. And another. And another.
Tess stumbled against the wall, looked down at her front. In the darkness her blood looked wet and black, like oil. She clutched her stomach, tried to hold herself together. Her legs felt weak, numb. They buckled. Without the energy to stand, Tess slid down the wall. She was starting to panic, the blood was pumping from her body.
She could barely think straight, only fight to hang on to life. Her vocabulary failed her. She couldn’t describe what was happening to her. She watched Renny walk away, tried to put up a hand to stop him, to call out.
But she couldn’t even do that.
She closed her eyes.
She had no time left at all.
Renny watched Tess die. Saw the life bleed out of her. And began to shake.
The first time had been righteous, watching Calvin die, that anger informing the stabs, telling him it was the right thing to do, that Calvin was paying for what he had done. Feeling more powerful, more in control of his own life with each blow. But this time it was different. He had stabbed a woman to death and watched her die. A woman who he might not have liked but who had given him money and done him no wrong. Well, she might have done if he’d let her live. Yeah, that was it. Renny held on to that thought, clutched it to him like a shield, hoped it would stop anything else, any contrary ideas permeating through. Failed.
The shaking intensified, as tears welled behind his eyes. He was scared, really scared. He looked at the knife, seeing it as if for the first time. Like it had just been put there. It was wrong. What he had just done was wrong. He felt physically sick.
He blinked the tears back, tried to focus on practicalities. Looked round. There were plenty of people on the estate tonight. Hopefully he could merge into the crowd, drift away. He looked down at his front. Saw the blood spatters arced across his jacket.
Shit. Maybe not. He had to get away. Quickly.
He turned and ran. Straight into the arms of two uniformed police officers.
‘Hold him!’ It was a woman’s voice.
He turned, struggling. She was a detective, he remembered that much. The one that had come to their school after Calvin was killed. Now she was walking down the alleyway towards him. He tried to pull away but the uniforms were too strong, their holds too practised. He felt pain lance up his back as his arm was twisted almost to breaking point.
She walked right up to him, stopped in front of him. ‘I am arresting you for murder …’
He didn’t listen to the rest.
He didn’t have to.
He pitched forward and threw up all over his trainers.
Donovan stood before the doorway to the roof of the tower block.
‘It’s locked,’ said Flemyng.
‘Yeah, thanks,’ said Donovan, turning the handle and pushing as hard as he could. He felt the frame give. ‘He must have locked it from the outside.’ He pushed again. The frame gave some more. ‘Hardly craftsmanship, these old buildings …’ He gave another shove. The door opened.
Donovan almost fell out on the roof. He managed to pull himself up, not hit the hard asphalt. He looked round. Figures silhouetted against the night sky, at the far side of the building, right on the edge. He waited for his eyesight to adjust, made out three of them, huddled together.
‘That’s far enough.’
Donovan stopped moving. Haig was on the edge of the building, an arm round Abigail, Jack pulled towards him with a knife at the boy’s throat. Both teenagers had their hands behind their backs. Tied presumably, thought Donovan. They both looked terrified. Jack’s body was crumpled, his face agonized as if in pain. They both looked defeated. Abigail’s eyes pleaded with Donovan to help her. He felt rage rise inside him. He had to do something.
His first impulse was to rush over to her, push Haig over the edge, save the two of them. He stifled it. Knew it wouldn’t work. He needed to be cleverer than that.
Instead,
he looked round. Saw the lights of the city centre over to the left, Gateshead and the Tyne in front of him. The sky was cloudless. He swallowed down his anger, tried to work with it. ‘You’ve picked a nice night for it, Tom. Bit chilly, though.’
‘I said stay where you are.’ Haig looked at the third man on the roof. ‘Who’s that?’
‘Martin Flemyng,’ said Donovan. ‘Your replacement in Anne Marie’s life. Better than you, but not by much.’
Flemyng started to complain. Donovan silenced him with a look.
Haig tightened his grip on Jack. The knife pressed harder on the boy’s throat. ‘So what d’you want?’
‘What do you want, Tom? Why are you doing this? What are you hoping to gain?’ Donovan moved forward slightly, hoping Haig wouldn’t notice. He didn’t. Donovan was shaking with fear and anger. He suppressed it. It wouldn’t help. ‘Do you want to talk?’
‘About what?’
‘I don’t know. But let them go and we’ll talk. About anything you want. The credit crunch, the fuel crisis, whether you think David Tennant’s a good Doctor Who, anything.’
He pushed the knife tighter against Jack’s neck. ‘Don’t fuck me about …’
‘Then let them go,’ Donovan said quickly, struggling to keep his voice calm and reasonable. ‘Let them go. And we’ll talk.’
Haig laughed, shook his head. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Then what? Why are you doing this?’
Haig sighed and for a second Donovan thought he was going to let them go. Just for a second. ‘I’m going to die.’
‘We’re all going to die,’ said Donovan.
‘Not as soon as me. Cancer.’ He spat the word out, his eyes pinwheeling with rage and madness. Tucking cancer. After everything I’ve done for everyone else. Cancer.’
Donovan moved forward another centimetre. Haig didn’t notice.
‘Anne Marie’s … writing a book …’
‘She is.’
‘Why her? Ey? What’s she done that’s so impressive? So she killed a kid. So what?’
Donovan saw Jack tense at Haig’s words, hoped the boy wouldn’t do something stupid. He didn’t. He was too scared to.
‘I’m sure you’ll be in there, Tom.’
Speak No Evil Page 28
