Good Girl Bad Girl

by Ann Girdharry

  LeeMing released his hold. The man scrambled up and ran off. She could see his hands as he ran and there was no gun.

  Terror flushed her mind blank. It took all the strength from her legs. Kal stumbled and she swung around, with no idea which direction to run in.

  “Marty!”

  Silence.

  Panic started closing in. “Marty!”

  She stumbled this way and that, panting, not caring where she went and smacking into a low branch so hard it made her see stars.

  “I’m over here,” Marty called.

  Kal sank to the ground. Her voice came out in a croak. “Marty, where are you?”

  “I’m right here.”

  Marty walked out of the trees, standing upright on her two legs - in one piece, not limping, not missing a limb, not bleeding to death.

  Kal heard a dry sob. She pressed a hand over her mouth. She could feel sticky blood running down from under her eye. “Oh god, I thought you’d been-”

  “Shot? Oh no, don’t worry about me. He fired into the air. There were two of them on me, hey, it’s okay, everything’s all right. We’re all okay.”

  Kal felt Marty’s warm arm encircle her and she let her head flop against Marty’s shoulder. She’d been an utter fool. Yes, of course, it had been a coordinated team, maybe six altogether, she should have realised sooner, and their opponents had been much more accomplished than she’d anticipated. LeeMing came over and stood with his hands resting on his knees.

  “Why the hell did you let him go!” she shouted at him.

  “Because of the gun shot, idiot. You want to get us all killed? Marty said he fired in the air so they meant it as a warning, but if one of them carried a gun you can bet the others did too. This wasn't an amateur operation, it was planned and executed meticulously. They had the upper hand all along. We thought we had the jump on them when we were out manned and out smarted from the beginning.”

  She could hear the anger in his voice and she didn’t blame him. Kal felt sick and for a moment she allowed the pain in her head to overwhelm her.

  “You're right,” she said, “yeah, I know you’re right, they weren't at capacity, we didn't beat them, they decided to pull back.”

  “Those people are professionals and I’m not talking ex-police or private detectives who follow the rules. No, they were the type you don't want to be messing with,” LeeMing said.

  Now his calm manner in the planning of tonight made sense to her. And so did the Dim Mak hold he’d had on his opponent’s neck. Dim Mak - the ancient art of using pressure points to immobilise or inflict serious injury, even death. LeeMing must have connections with the underworld.

  “How the hell do you figure that out?” Marty demanded.

  “I make my living legitimately through martial arts but for generations my family have been part of the Triad and plenty of my contemporaries are active members. Ever heard of it?”

  “The Triad. You mean the Chinese mafia, don’t you? Best known for protection rackets and gambling dens.” Kal said.

  “Aren't the Triad the ones who cut people's hands off?” Marty said.

  “You should know better than to perpetuate stereotypes, Marty,” LeeMing said, “the Triad believes in swift justice and is extremely effective in keeping order and coherence in the Chinese community. It’s thanks to the Triad we’ve one of the lowest crime rates in the city. I'm no longer an active member though in my time I came across plenty of weaponry and vicious, merciless types and I can tell you, those people were the sort you don't want to mess with.”

  “Are you saying they were prepared to shoot us? I find that hard to believe,” Marty said.

  “Then you’d better wake up - this is much worse than you thought. You don't carry a gun unless you're ready to use it,” LeeMing said, “more to the point, Kal, I think you'd better start telling me exactly what's going on.”

  Warm blood oozed down the side of her face. Never underestimate your opponent - one of the cardinal rules. She should have known better.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  “A neighbour alerted police,” Spinks said. “Thank you for coming so quickly. They were good friends. His name’s Derick Sanders.” Spinks made no comment about the hasty dressing beneath her eye. She wondered if blood had started to seep through yet.

  Derick. Yes, she knew Derick. He was a photojournalist.

  A patrol car sat outside, its blue light flashing in the dark street. The Inspector’s steps sounded greasy on the pavement and Kal followed Spinks through the cordoned off front entrance.

  They took the lift to the top floor and found a woman officer standing at Derick’s door. Part of a newly converted warehouse, Derick’s apartment had a lower floor and an upper mezzanine. Passing the kitchen and bathroom on the lower level, they took the stairs to the mezzanine.

  The mezzanine was an open plan lounge with a sleeping area. Derick had decorated the tallest wall a bright red and another in sunset orange and for the ceiling rafters he’d chosen a see-through azure wash. That was where they’d found him. She could see the length of rope they’d cut to get him down. The wrapped body lay on a gurney, ready to be taken away.

  Kal held back as Spinks approached the body. He knelt beside it and beckoned her forward.

  “I want you to take a look,” he said.

  The room seemed suddenly crowded – ambulance crew, the coroner’s staff, forensics team, two more police officers downstairs craning upwards to catch the action. Kal felt their eyes fall on her. She'd seen dead bodies in Eastern Europe and in Africa, though resulting from war or disease and always anonymous. She’d only met Derick a couple of times, but her mother talked about him. It was more terrible when it was someone you knew. She pretended to walk normally, ignoring her spaghetti legs. The few steps forward felt like a marathon.

  Spinks peeled open the top of the body bag. The eyes had bulged and the flesh of Derick’s face was purple.

  “This was staged to appear as a suicide and for now I’m keeping an open mind on that, though there are no signs the body has been tampered with. We’ll know more after the autopsy.”

  Kal’s back went from cool to icy.

  “The body has been identified by the neighbour. Tell me, do you recognise this man?”

  Kal stared down. If the body had been identified, why was Spinks asking her? Why had he asked her to come here in the middle of the night? But she knew why, it could only mean she was a suspect.

  “Yes this is Derick Sanders, he worked with Mum plenty of times.”

  Derick had joined the newspaper less than a year ago, moving down south from Glasgow. Young, and a risk-taker, he’d become one of Alesha’s favourites. Her mother said he’d a quick mind and an even quicker eye for the action, though Kal suspected Alesha wanted to give him a hand up the ladder. If it hadn’t been Derick swinging from a rope, Kal wondered if it would have been her. What the hell had happened here?

  “What’s your take on it?” Spinks asked.

  He watched her with that hawk gaze of his, as if she were a mouse running for cover with nowhere to hide.

  “I’ve no idea. My gut tells me Derick wasn’t the type to do this.” She waved her hand towards the azure beams. “He had too much going for him. Talent. A new job. A nice, new place. It doesn’t fit.”

  She stared up at the blue rafters. No, nothing about this was right. This wasn’t suicide, this was cold blooded murder.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Every day he stopped in front of Sunni’s photograph. He enjoyed the way Sunni’s face contorted. The dribble of saliva. It had been a fitting end to decades of instilling fear in the scum family. But Sunni’s death didn’t bring stillness, didn’t bring closure - it fanned the flames. Dug into the wound of his father’s death to leave it raw and bleeding.

  A picture of the weeping wife played on his mind.

  Sunni had been cared for. Loved.

  Time to turn his attention to Sunni’s wife.

  So when the feeling overtoo
k him he made the call and again sent in the man with no name.

  This time it didn’t go to plan. The house burned but the wife survived and the man with no name refused a third contract. He even gave a warning to lay low. So for a while I did, but don’t think I wasted my time. I invested double in intelligence. Ramping up surveillance. Finding out connections.

  Waiting for my next chance.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Kal told LeeMing about the death threats and the details she’d gathered on Kealy, Scott and Vankova.

  Marty sat grim and tight lipped beside him. Of course, Marty didn’t add the merest whisper about David Khan - that had been an unspoken agreement between them since childhood.

  Kal waited for LeeMing’s reaction. In the dark of the Common, she’d been glad to have both of them with her. What would LeeMing say? That she was a liar? That Derick wasn’t anything to do with him? That she deserved to get her head blown off? That he’d made a huge mistake getting involved?

  When LeeMing told her he’d stick around, Kal didn’t know whether to feel relieved or frightened.

  “Whatever. It’s up to you,” she said. “Don’t feel obliged.”

  “I don’t,” LeeMing said.

  “So what’s our next step?” Marty said.

  “One thing’s for sure, Mum knows how to look after herself. She’s bags of experience working in places of conflict. She knows how to survive and she's savvy. She'll keep herself safe.”

  LeeMing crossed his arms. “If Alesha's anything like you, I'm sure that's true. We need hard facts - these people have killed. Why? You’ve got intuitions and that’s not enough.”

  “Agreed,” Marty said. “The two new names on Alesha’s list, Randall Greeves retired High Court Judge, and Aaron DeVille, Hollywood producer who loves England, keep the stakes right up there. These people have enormous power. They’re untouchable.”

  “Yeah, they’re untouchable but they’re not immune. There’s always an Achilles heel,” Kal said.

  “And the professional hit men?” LeeMing said.

  “Not a problem if you don’t go head on. We’ve got to be more clever than that. Tomorrow night’s the ScottBioTec Gala, and I intend to dig. That will be my opportunity.”

  “Then make it count,” LeeMing said.

  Marty nodded. “You’d better squeeze that sucker Richard Scott until his guts spill.”

  Kal had a mental image of Derick swinging from the ceiling. “Don’t worry,” she said, “I intend to.”

  ***

  The ScottBioTec Gala was hosted at the iconic Dorchester Hotel. A venue famed for attracting celebrities, the Dorchester overlooked Hyde Park and Mayfair. As Kal arrived, a melee of press and public clustered around, making it difficult to get through. Not everyone was here to celebrate – a bunch of people carried banners with the word ‘Mengele’ written on them, a reference to the deranged Nazi scientist who used live humans for his sadistic experiments.

  A security guard came down the front steps. “Good evening, Ms Medi, please let me accompany you to the foyer, Dr Scott is waiting for you there.” He cleared a path through the crowd.

  It was quiet inside. Mellow lighting shone from the reception desk where staff waited, poised, ready to offer genteel assistance. Marble flooring. Extravagant flowers. A high class location. Very fitting for a showcase event. Kal stared straight past the concierge, clocking the way he discreetly scanned her as she swept by. She'd chosen an off-the-shoulder, electric blue, floor length, satin dress. It showed off every contour. She wore her hair loose in a jet black stream and had borrowed a gorgeous, turquoise necklace from her mother’s collection. Playing the game of elegance amused her, and she was sure it convinced most of the people here. It was a good disguise.

  The protestors must be annoying Scott. She could see it by the tightness in his chest and in the set of his shoulders as he walked towards her, and the way he avoided looking towards the front of the foyer. When Kal’s security minder made to stay with them, Scott flicked the man away with a vexed frown.

  He bent to plant a kiss on Kal’s cheek. “You look lovely.”

  “Thank you.”

  Scott wore an immaculate grey suit and dark shirt and his stylish appearance got the attention of every woman around. That she had to fake a smile reinforced Kal’s first reaction to Scott. He had all the correct patter and the looks and he left her cold.

  “At the last minute, my security chief has advised me not to go near the front entrance.” Scott said. “He wants me to keep a low profile, though I’d prefer to confront those imbeciles.” He offered his arm to escort her.

  “What's going on, I spotted some placards?”

  “It’s a bunch of self-righteous morons claiming to be children's rights experts. They make me sick with their cheap stunts.”

  “I saw something on the internet, don't they claim ScottBioTec's profiting from families in poverty?”

  “They should inform themselves of the facts. ScottBioTec is helping people. If they weren't so blind they'd see we're the solution, not the problem.”

  She feigned ignorance, keeping her arm draped through his. The solidarity group claimed the high number of children born with limb deformities in the Kolkata area of India was due to industrial negligence. An American company, WainChemicals, had owned a chemical plant and though they'd long since pulled out, they'd left the ground contaminated, polluting the water supply. There were allegations ScottBioTec was complicit in drawing out the legal proceedings in the US and India - the clean-up had been delayed for literally decades in the courts.

  On their way to the ballroom, both men and women cast glances their way. Kal kept her gaze ahead, thinking that the two of them must make an interesting couple to stir up such a wake of curiosity and envy.

  Scott led her to the front of the grandiose ballroom. On his arm, Kal felt like she accompanied a celebrity, and with its cabaret layout of round tables decked with silver cutlery and wine glasses, the evening had the air of an awards ceremony. She estimated the ballroom to hold around two hundred people and their fellow guests flaunted designer evening wear and expensive jewellery. Scott shook hands and smiled as he passed by the tables. Everyone wanted to congratulate him, and the two of them were amongst the last to take their seats. Of course, Scott had the table of honour right in front of the stage. Without hesitation, a waiter swooped to pour drinks and Kal noted the three places set at their table.

  “Is somebody joining us?”

  “I invited a Russian colleague. I'm about to sign a multi-million deal to supply Russia's military hospitals and Boris is my contact. He’s their top gun and without his support, the contract wouldn’t be possible. I hope you don't mind me mixing business with pleasure.”

  At the word 'pleasure' Scott rested his hand on her arm and gave a small squeeze. Kal flashed him a smile. Having a third person at the table would complicate the dynamics, so she'd better move fast on Scott while she had him to herself. Time to shake him up.

  “Of course I don't mind, although I was hoping to ask you more about Mum.”

  The overhead lights dimmed, revealing flickering candle lights. The chink of glasses and a hum of muted conversation floated from the surrounding tables.

  “I was looking forward to getting to know you,” Scott said, “and I’ll try to answer as honestly as I can. I’ve been thinking about how to explain the way I feel about Alesha and I’ve no idea where to start. I never knew I could have such strong feelings for someone.”

  “No one has an explanation for attraction.”

  “It’s much more than attraction. I want you to know meeting your mother changed my life. I knew it the first moment I saw her.”

  A female compere took to the stage and Scott stopped talking. The compere welcomed the audience and then turned towards Richard Scott. A spotlight fell on Scott and Kal watched him get to his feet to acknowledge the polite patter of applause.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Scott said in his deep, smooth voi
ce, “this is ScottBioTec's thank you to all our sponsors and supporters. Please enjoy the evening.”

  As Scott sat down, she leant forward. “I didn't realise you were a celebrity.”

  “It's the price of success and I don't enjoy it.”

  On stage, the compere continued her introduction and Kal blanked out the woman and trained her concentration on Scott. He took a sip from his glass.

  “The evening starts with a film outlining the background to our research and I had the footage commissioned especially for tonight. The more interesting part comes later so we can talk freely until then.” His grey eyes rested on her. “Alesha is an extraordinary woman. She has a wonderful passion for life. Let me give you an example of how she changed me - I was so wrapped up in my business, I’d hardly stepped out of a boardroom in the last twenty years. Whenever I travelled it was for ScottBioTec - New York, Paris, The Hague, Malaysia, Japan – none of my trips were for pleasure. Not a moment of my time was spent enjoying other countries and cultures. Your mother introduced me to the joys of travelling for fun. In fact, she took me to Varanasi in India. I’m sure you know of it.”

  Kal’s insides contracted and a sudden jealousy flared. Her hands lay on the table and she was careful to keep them relaxed, careful to hide her dismay and astonishment - Varanasi was her mother’s favourite Indian city and Kal’s also. Her mother had taken her there as a first introduction to India. Home of the silk trade, Varanasi was a vast, mystical town bordering the sacred Ganges river. The banks of the river were covered with tiered terraces of red stone, split into sections called Ghats. In the mornings, the misty Ghats were packed with hundreds of Indian men, women and families who came to bathe in the purifying Ganges and meditate and chant standing knee deep in the water. Once visited, Varanasi was a difficult place to forget. Shit. Why the hell had her mother chosen to take him there? It made her hate Scott.