Die Alone

by Simon Kernick

  ‘She’d spot it a mile off.’

  ‘Not if it was done properly.’

  ‘I’ll have a word with the boss,’ said Bolt, thinking it somehow ironic that he and Mo now worked for Sheryl Trinder, the woman at the NCA who up until a little over a year ago had been Ray Mason’s boss.

  They were back at the car now and Bolt was just about to get in when his phone rang.

  It was DCI Kay Searle of Westminster’s Murder Investigation Team, who were assisting the NCA with the Kalaman murder. Bolt had been talking to her down at the crime scene a couple of hours earlier, which meant there had to have been some development.

  And there had. ‘We’ve got a CCTV image of a possible suspect leaving Andy Reeves’ apartment building last night just after the reported time of the killings. I’m looking at it now, and it’s good quality. Something else too – the man in it might be bald and bearded but it looks one hell of a lot like Ray Mason.’

  20

  Tina needed to know whether or not Mike and his team were keeping her under surveillance, and there was only one way to do that.

  An hour after Mike and Mo had gone, she left the house by the front door. It was much cooler than of late and drizzling with rain. Her car was parked in her reserved spot directly outside, and she gave it a thorough examination, both manually and using the bug finder, to make sure it was clear of trackers. Next she checked the street in both directions. The advantage of where she lived was that strangers, either on foot or in vehicles, stood out like sore thumbs. Everyone knew everyone else round here and, although Tina kept herself to herself, the villagers were all aware that she’d been a target of criminals in the past, and were protective of her.

  Satisfied that there was no one around, she pulled away, regularly checking the rear-view mirror, and took a winding back route into London, making several circles, before finally relaxing as she pulled onto the Finchley Road, heading south.

  She wanted to put Ray out of her mind but it was proving impossible. Their relationship might have lasted only a few months, but those months had been some of her happiest for a long time – happier than when she was with Mike Bolt, who might have cared about her but who’d been unable to set her world on fire as Ray had.

  And then, in one bloody night, she and Ray had been torn apart. He’d rescued her from a house where she was being held by two associates of Kalaman and Sheridan, killing both associates in the process. He could have run that night but instead he’d set fire to the house to get rid of any evidence of Tina’s presence there, told her to get as far away as possible, and had then remained behind to take responsibility for what had happened so that she wasn’t implicated. In the end, he’d gone to prison for her, sacrificing his own freedom so that she didn’t have to sacrifice hers.

  To have loved again after all those barren years and then to have had it all snatched away in one fell swoop had come close to tearing her apart. It had taken a long time to get over Ray Mason, and then, just as she was coming out the other side, he’d reappeared again, threatening to reignite those feelings. It had taken a lot of self-discipline to hold back the previous night. She’d pretended to be asleep as he’d leaned over and kissed her head, but had been seconds away from turning round, grabbing him and kissing him back. And yet she knew that sleeping with him would just hurt her more in the long term, which was why she was determined to keep as far away as possible from him in these next few hours.

  Ray was going to leave after nightfall. He had a plan, which had a solid chance of working. Yet Tina felt conflicted. On the one hand, she wanted him gone before he got her into real trouble. But she also wanted to help him, not only because she still had feelings for him, but also because she too wanted to see the people he was up against suffer.

  Which was why she’d volunteered to go in his place to collect the passport and driving licence he’d ordered the previous day. Ray had tried to talk her out of it, stating that it was too risky, and that he would be able to collect them either later tonight or tomorrow, but Tina knew that his plan had a far greater chance of success if he was already in possession of his new ID, and a lot safer for him if she went. So she’d insisted. ‘Call it my leaving present,’ she’d told him.

  Her first port of call was the office where she ran her private detective business, located in a drab residential back street on the Kilburn/Paddington border. She’d considered closing it and working from home several times, but had always demurred. Tina’s cottage was her sanctuary, and it felt a lot better not to have to bring work home with her, or have people she didn’t know coming there.

  She actually had a pile of paperwork to catch up on and she spent the next hour writing a report on an outstanding marital infidelity case she’d been working on, and doing invoicing. It was a good way of getting her mind off her current predicament, and frankly, she needed the money. Private detective work, certainly the mundane kind she dealt with most of the time, didn’t pay a huge amount.

  At lunchtime, the office phone rang. Tina let it go to answerphone and listened as a distressed-sounding woman left a message saying that, although she knew it sounded foolish, she’d become convinced that her husband of twenty years might be trying to kill her.

  Tina was never going to ignore a call like that, so she picked up before the woman had finished leaving her message.

  The woman, who immediately introduced herself as Maria Ways, sounded extremely relieved to get Tina on the phone and asked if she could come and see her as soon as possible. ‘I don’t know if I’m going mad or not, but I think – I really think – he wants me dead.’

  ‘OK, OK,’ said Tina, calming her down. ‘Of course you can come in.’ She looked at her watch. It was 12.45. She had time. And anyway, she was intrigued. This might actually require some proper detective work. They agreed that Maria would come to the office at 1.30.

  Tina was careful who she allowed to visit her at the office but Maria’s address in Holland Park checked out and when, forty-five minutes later, the outside buzzer sounded and the camera showed a middle-aged, flustered-looking redhead, Tina let her in straight away.

  But it wasn’t the redhead who came through the door. Two men in suits did. The first was about forty-five, small and wiry with close-cropped dark hair and a scar like a lopsided half smile on his lip; the second was younger, and much, much bigger, with the chiselled yet slightly grotesque look of the long-term bodybuilder, and a ridiculous deep orange permatan.

  Tina had just finished a sandwich and had a takeaway coffee in her hand. She didn’t stand up or yell. Instead, she stared them both down. ‘I don’t know who you are,’ she said calmly, ‘but if you’re here to threaten me then you might want to know you’re being recorded on CCTV. Please leave before I call the police.’

  The smaller man with the scar looked by far the more dangerous of the two. He sat down opposite her across the desk, while the big one took up a position behind him. ‘I’d turn the camera off if I were you,’ he said. ‘It won’t do you any good, and we’re not here to hurt you. We just want to know where Ray Mason is.’

  ‘You’re not the first person who’s asked me that today,’ she said. ‘I haven’t seen him in over a year. But in case he phones me from wherever he’s hiding, would you like to leave a message?’

  The small one’s expression hardened. ‘Where is he?’

  ‘I told you, I don’t know.’ Tina’s grip tightened on the coffee cup. It was still two thirds full and hot, and would make a useful weapon. She also had a can of CS gel spray in the desk drawer if it came to it.

  The small man read her expression. ‘I told you, we’re not here to hurt you. But we do want to find Mason, and if we find out you either know or knew where he is, and you haven’t told us, then …’ He paused. ‘There may be some unfortunate consequences.’

  Tina felt her anger grow. ‘Are you threatening me?’

  The small man wore the expression of a man holding all the cards. He reached inside his jacket, took out a small
white envelope and tossed it onto the desk in front of her. ‘Your niece Ava’s very pretty,’ he said. ‘I thought you might like to see another photo of her.’

  Tina felt a jolt of fear shoot through her. She slammed down the coffee cup so hard the lid came off, and tore open the envelope, terrified of what she might see.

  It was a photo of Ava – sweet, blonde and eight years old – walking towards the camera in her school uniform, hand in hand with her mum, Jackie, Tina’s sister-in-law. Neither was aware of the camera’s presence. Instead they were looking at each other and smiling, total love in both their eyes.

  ‘That was taken a couple of days ago,’ continued the small man. ‘It’s a great shot. The cameraman really knows what he’s doing.’ He paused, and the scar on his lip curled upwards as he smiled. ‘The problem is he’s clumsy. You see, he’s often transporting acid in his car, and if he’s not careful he might spill some of that acid, and some innocent kid or mum, just walking along the street minding their own business, might have their faces burned beyond recognition. Just like that.’

  Tina couldn’t speak. The thought of anything happening to her family – the one part of her life that was wholesome and undamaged – because of something she’d done filled her with abject terror.

  ‘So I’m going to ask you again,’ said the small man, clearly able to see that her shock was genuine. ‘Where’s Ray Mason?’

  Tina knew that these people would carry out their threats. She had no doubt that they’d been sent by the Kalaman organization to find the man who, they thought, had killed their boss. It occurred to her to tell them that Alastair Sheridan had been behind Cem’s killing, but in the end she realized that this would be way too risky.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said wearily, putting down the photo. ‘He hasn’t been in touch at all. But if he does I’ll tell you. Just don’t do anything to my family.’ She looked at him. ‘Please.’

  ‘As long as you’re not lying, they’re perfectly safe,’ he said.

  ‘I’m not,’ she told him firmly.

  He nodded and got to his feet. ‘Good. That way everyone stays safe and healthy.’ He winked at her, and the scar curled upwards once again. ‘Have a nice day, Tina.’

  For a long time after they’d gone Tina sat there, experiencing first shock, then anger at the way they’d threatened her family. Her eight-year-old niece, for God’s sake! There was anger at Ray, too, for coming back into her life and exposing her like this, although she was still confident that there was no way the Kalamans could link her to him.

  But the bottom line was she had to protect her family. She couldn’t provide protection, but the police would be able to, and if she spoke to Mike Bolt, she felt sure he could put something in place. First, though, she needed to speak to her brother, Tom. She hated the idea of telling him his family might be in danger. As children they’d been close but they’d grown distant over the years, and Tina knew he disapproved of the life she led, and the effect that her dramas had had on their parents. Still, if someone was threatening his children, she had to tell him. Reluctantly, she sat back in the chair, took a deep breath, and called his number.

  Tom was one of those people who had his phone on him the whole time, and he answered pretty much as soon as it started ringing.

  ‘Tina! Changed your mind and decided to join us?’

  It sounded like he was outside. ‘Hey Tom, where are you?’

  ‘Estepona. At the villa we booked. We got here about an hour ago. Don’t you remember, I invited you months ago? Mum and Dad are here too. I thought you were ringing to say you were going to get a flight.’

  Tina almost laughed out loud with relief. Her family were safe. ‘No, sorry, I’ve got quite a lot on at the moment, but if I get the chance I’ll book something short notice and come out for a couple of days. How long are you there for?’

  ‘Two weeks.’

  That was enough for Tina. They were too far away for the Kalamans to get to them, and therefore no longer a concern. She made small talk with Tom for a while, said she was going to have a family barbecue for all of them when they got back, then finally rang off, feeling relieved but still very, very angry at the way she’d just been treated.

  The anger simmered away in her for another couple of hours as she continued ploughing through the paperwork, until finally it was time to get ready to go and pick up Ray’s passport and driving licence so he could be on his way, hopefully to a place where the many people hunting him wouldn’t be able to find him. After what had happened earlier, she wasn’t taking any chances. Slipping off the loose-fitting sweatshirt she’d travelled here in, she put on a light, custom-fitted Kevlar vest that she’d bought online from a specialist US-based company, before putting the sweatshirt back on over the top, and adding a summer jacket, so that there was no way anyone could tell she was wearing it. She put the can of CS gel in one of the jacket’s outside pockets where it was easily in reach, then left the office by the back entrance.

  Having adopted her usual anti-surveillance techniques, she drove a round-about route into Hounslow through unusually heavy traffic and found a parking spot on a quiet tree-lined road about half a mile from where Zafir Rasaq lived.

  Tina’s job often required her to follow people, mainly errant spouses suspected by their partners of having affairs, and in the four years she’d been a PI she’d become very good at getting documentary evidence of their activities, even if sometimes it took her a while. In order to avoid being spotted by the more eagle-eyed of the people she was tracking, she’d also become something of a master of disguise. She had a variety of wigs and props, and with some carefully applied makeup she always amazed herself at the ease with which she became a completely different person, enjoying the anonymity it gave her.

  There was no way she wanted either Rasaq or the men she was collecting the documents from to see her real face so she opened a bag on the car’s passenger seat, took out what she needed and, using the rear-view mirror, spent the next twenty minutes transforming her appearance into that of a demure, olive-skinned Muslim woman wearing a black hijab to keep her hair covered, and big black sunglasses.

  She checked herself in the mirror, concluded there was no way she’d ever be recognized, and got out of the car, pulling a cheap burner phone she’d never used before from her pocket.

  It was time to call Zafir Rasaq.

  21

  ‘So what have we got, Mr Bolt?’ asked DCS Sheryl Trinder.

  Trinder was Mike Bolt’s boss, a short, tough, ambitious black woman with more than thirty years on the job, and a definite eye for the NCA director’s role. Consequently she was a hard taskmaster, who expected a lot from the people under her, including some very long hours. But she was also fair and honest, and Bolt respected her, even if he didn’t much like her. And now, at the end of a Saturday afternoon, with the sun shining outside the window, almost mocking him with its hint of what the seaside could have been like today, he was sitting in her office giving her an update.

  ‘The man on the captured CCTV image looks a lot like Ray Mason,’ he told her, passing a photocopy across the desk. ‘As you can see, he’s done the classic of shaving his head, growing a beard, and throwing on a pair of glasses, which would be enough to confuse people who don’t know what they’re looking for. But I’m certain it’s him. We’ve released the photo to the media, and it should already have been made public.’

  DCS Trinder examined the photo, which had been blown up so that it showed a close-up of the suspect’s face. ‘That’s definitely Mason.’ She shook her head. ‘The Kalamans are going to be really after him now. The word is, they already had a half-million-pound bounty on his head while he was in prison. God knows what they’re going to increase it to now.’

  Bolt thought of Tina then, and hoped she’d been telling him the truth, because if she was mixed up in all this and helping Mason, she was potentially in a lot of danger. ‘Then it’s important we get to him first,’ he said. ‘We know he had help breaki
ng out. And the chances are someone’s helping him now.’

  ‘The person who springs to mind is Tina Boyd,’ said Trinder.

  ‘We spoke to Tina this morning,’ said Bolt, ‘and she gave us permission to search her house. There wasn’t any sign that Mason had been there, and she claimed not to have seen or heard from him since his escape.’

  ‘And where was she last night?’

  ‘She refused to say. I think it was because she was pissed off that she was under suspicion. But we checked her car’s movements on the ANPR and she made a journey on the M25 yesterday night to somewhere in west Essex. It wasn’t possible to get an exact location because it’s a pretty rural area, but it’s also a long way from where the getaway car was last seen.’

  Trinder frowned. ‘Do you think we need to put her under surveillance?’

  Bolt had been thinking about that a lot. ‘I don’t think so at the moment. She’s hugely surveillance-savvy after everything that’s happened to her, so we’d need twelve-strong teams round the clock to make it effective, and there’s no evidence that she’s been helping Mason. In my opinion, we should keep an eye on her movements on the ANPR and if anything turns up that seems suspect, we can look at her again.’

  Trinder was about to say something else when the phone on her desk rang. ‘I did ask not to be disturbed, so this has got to be important – excuse me.’ She picked up the phone and listened for a moment. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘Put him through.’ She mouthed the words ‘Home Office minister’ at Bolt then made a hand gesture to indicate that the meeting was over.

  Bolt got up from his seat as the minister came on the line. It was clear from the conversation that he was after an update on the Kalaman murder and the related search for Ray Mason.