Die Alone

by Simon Kernick

Bolt thought about this for a minute. ‘The timing’s very coincidental if she wasn’t, and the ID would still be on the premises if she and the other guy had nothing to do with Mason. Have you got her on film?’

  Tutill nodded and led him over the road to where an unmarked van was sandwiched between two patrol cars. A small, slightly bored-looking crowd were gathered nearby but since, for the moment, police activity was fairly minimal, it didn’t look they’d be hanging around for long.

  Tutill pulled open the van doors and they climbed inside. A plainclothes officer sat reviewing pictures on a laptop surrounded by camera equipment, and she asked him if he had some good shots of their female suspect.

  ‘Well, we got shots and video,’ he said with a sigh, turning the laptop round so they could see it, ‘but I wouldn’t say they’re good. This is a woman who definitely doesn’t want to be seen. This is the best one.’ He pressed a couple of keys and an MPEG file came up on the screen with a still image of a man and a woman outside the curry house. The man had his back to the camera while the woman was looking partly towards it. She was dressed in Western clothing – jeans, trainers, a light summer jacket – but with a black hijab scarf covering her head and the bottom half of her face, and sunglasses.

  The video started and the cameraman moved into close-up on the woman as she looked up and down the street, constantly moving her head and keeping it down to make it harder to get a decent shot of her. She said a few words to the man as he talked on the phone then she turned and faced the window of the curry house. The camera concentrated on her for a further fifteen seconds or so, during which time she hardly moved, then the curry house door opened and she followed the man inside, pulling the hijab further up her face as she did so.

  Bolt asked him to pause it at that point. He stared at the woman’s hand as she moved the hijab. The skin didn’t seem as dark as the skin on her face, and she was wearing dark nail varnish.

  Tina had been wearing exactly the same nail varnish that morning. She’d also been wearing very similar jeans. The woman looked to be about five feet seven and she was of Tina’s build.

  Bolt made a noise under his breath. He’d known as soon as he’d been told about the mysterious IC4 female who’d managed to escape the scene, leaving behind a couple of injured men and a freshly fired gun, that it was probably Tina. Add to it the coincidental timing and the missing documents, and now the footage of the surveillance-aware woman in the hijab, and he was convinced of it.

  His immediate emotion was anger. Tina had lied to him that morning and had clearly been helping Mason all along. Well, if this was how she wanted to play things, then she’d have to accept the consequences.

  ‘Does she look familiar?’ Tutill asked him when they were back outside.

  ‘No,’ said Bolt wearily, ‘I don’t think so. She’ll have left DNA in there, though. Have you got a SOCO team coming in?’

  ‘We’re waiting for one to come available. I don’t suppose the NCA have got any spare?’

  This was the problem with policing nowadays. Years of government cuts had pared the police service to the bone, to the extent that it was fair to say they could no longer do their jobs properly. He shook his head. ‘No, we’re as stretched as everyone else. As soon as the team have swept the place and the gun for DNA let me know, and I’ll see if I can get a priority on the results.’

  Tutill shrugged. ‘It’s your case, do what you want. It’s just a load of extra paperwork for us.’

  Bolt smiled. ‘I know, and I’m sorry. At least you got a counterfeit operation out of it.’

  ‘There’ll be another one opening tomorrow. Maybe the same guys. You know what it’s like.’

  ‘I do,’ he said. ‘We’re fighting a losing battle.’

  She shook her head. ‘No. I think it’s already lost.’

  Sadly, Bolt shared her sentiment. It was another reason why retirement couldn’t come fast enough. He thanked Tutill for her help, told her he’d be in touch, and walked back to where he’d parked his car further down the road, contemplating his next move. If the woman in the hijab was Tina – and he was 95 per cent certain she was – then she’d clearly done everything possible to cover her tracks. That meant she probably hadn’t come here in her own car, so unless she’d left DNA it was going to be very hard to prove that she’d been here, and even that alone wasn’t going to be enough to arrest her.

  But if she had hold of the fake IDs for Mason it meant she was going to have to give them to him at some point. It was time, therefore, to put her under proper surveillance.

  He was just about to put in a call to DCS Trinder to get the necessary authorization when his phone rang.

  It was Mo. ‘Any joy on the op, boss?’

  Bolt sighed. ‘Mason didn’t turn up but I think Tina Boyd did, heavily disguised, and got away with the documents. We need to get people on her ASAP.’

  ‘I think we might have enough to nick her, boss. We’ve found the car Mason escaped in. It was hidden in woodland near a hamlet in Essex. He’d rubbed mud on the number plates, which was why we weren’t able to track it. The local police up there were investigating reports of shots being fired in the vicinity when they found it. And here’s the thing. It was only a mile and a half from where Tina Boyd’s car was picked up on the ANPR last night.’

  Bolt felt a surge of anger. ‘There’s no way it’s a coincidence. She’s been playing us, Mo. She must have picked Mason up last night. What do we know about the gunshots?’

  ‘Not a lot. Police got three separate reports of shots being fired at about 11.30 p.m. They sent an ARV but didn’t find anyone with gunshot wounds, but they sent another patrol car round there this afternoon, just to take another look, and that’s when they found it. The timing looks right for Tina being there too. Her car was picked up twice on the same camera just outside Nazeing, heading towards where the shots were fired at 10.42 p.m. and then heading away in the direction of the M25 at 11.43 p.m. Do you think we missed Mason in the search of the house this morning?’

  ‘I don’t see how. But we could have done.’

  ‘What do you want to do, boss?’

  Bolt swallowed hard. Tina had lied to him repeatedly. She was involved up to the hilt, just as, deep down, he’d always known she was. ‘I want her nicked right away and the house searched from top to bottom. Get onto the locals. Tell them to send ARVs in case Mason’s armed. This whole charade’s got to end.’

  27

  The village where Tina lived was picture-postcard, with a single main street containing a corner shop that was still run by a local couple, a twelfth-century church, and a decent pub, which she still popped into occasionally, even though no alcohol had passed her lips for more than a decade now. It was always quiet too, and this evening was no exception. The street was empty, although she could hear laughter coming from the pub beer garden as she drove past with her window open.

  She scanned the street carefully as she parked in her spot outside the cottage, just in case the police were keeping an eye on the place. She might have dumped the hijab disguise but she was still carrying Ray’s fake IDs, which were taped under the front passenger seat of the Focus, and if she was caught with them she’d have some serious questions to answer.

  She left them where they were and got out of the car with a bag carrying the milk and sugar for Mrs West. It felt strange knowing that Ray was inside the cottage, only feet away from her, and yet here she was doing everything possible to avoid him. Him leaving was for the best, she kept telling herself. And the sooner he went the easier it would be for them both.

  She knocked on Mrs West’s door, and when there was no answer, she looked in the front window. The living room and kitchen were empty and the French windows to the garden were open. She was probably out back somewhere, although there was a distinct chill in the air now, and if she wasn’t feeling too good, the garden wouldn’t be the best place for her.

  Mrs West had only once been ill in the nine years they’d lived next door to each
other, and even then she’d tried to make as little fuss as possible and Tina had had to insist on doing things for her, so the timing of this latest call, with everything else that was going on, had rung a small alarm bell.

  Tina tried the handle. The door was open. Feeling just a little bit wary she stepped slowly inside, shutting the door gently behind her but leaving it on the latch.

  ‘Hello, Mrs West,’ she called out. ‘I’ve got your stuff.’

  There was a pause, then a weak voice called out: ‘I’m up here, love.’

  Tina relaxed a little, putting the milk in the fridge and the sugar on the side.

  ‘Do you need anything?’ she called out as she climbed the stairs. ‘A cup of tea or anything like that?’

  She opened Mrs West’s bedroom door, and the moment she walked in she realized she’d made a big mistake.

  Mrs West was sitting up on her bed, fully clothed, while standing off to one side near the window was the woman Tina had shot at the previous night. She was wearing a black balaclava but Tina knew who it was by the long black hair poking out of the bottom. She was holding the same gun as well, a pistol with a suppressor attached, which was now pointed at Tina. This, then, was The Wraith, the professional assassin who’d come so close to killing Ray on two occasions.

  ‘Come on in, so I can see you,’ The Wraith said, her accent a curious mixture of South African and American.

  Tina knew she was already too far inside the door to escape without risking getting shot, so she stepped further inside, trying hard to keep calm.

  ‘I’m sorry, Tina,’ said Mrs West. ‘I didn’t mean to—’

  ‘It’s OK, Mrs West,’ said Tina, giving her a reassuring smile. ‘It’ll all be fine, I promise.’

  ‘Get round the other side of the bed, away from the door,’ The Wraith demanded.

  Tina did as she was told. It was a small room, very similar to her own, and she had to pass close to the woman as she walked round the front of the bed to get to the other side. She didn’t try anything though. The woman’s gun hand was steady and it was clear from all Tina had heard that she’d had a lot of practice at killing.

  ‘What do you want?’ Tina asked, retreating until she was standing against the wall, only a few feet from Mrs West.

  ‘Ray Mason,’ said The Wraith emphatically, still keeping her position by the window where she could see across Mrs West’s and Tina’s back gardens. ‘I don’t want to have to kill either of you, which is why I’m wearing this mask.’

  ‘I don’t know where he is.’

  ‘Of course you do. It was you last night, wasn’t it? The one who shot at me. And don’t bother to deny it.’

  Tina thought fast. If she lied too much, she risked either her or Mrs West getting hurt. She had no idea how this woman had got to her but she was clearly not to be trifled with.

  ‘You’re hesitating. I don’t like that.’

  ‘Yes, it was me,’ she said. ‘I was trying to save his life.’

  ‘I don’t take it personally. It was business. Just like this is.’ She paused. ‘Where’s Mason now? And please don’t lie.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Tina instinctively.

  Two shots rang out, their sounds muffled to a loud pop by the suppressor, and Mrs West let out a strangled gasp and fell backwards on the bed, her head hitting the wall. As Tina watched, horrified, Mrs West’s eyes closed and her body went limp. There were two smoking holes in the middle of her chest.

  For a long moment the room was silent. Then Tina spoke, anger overtaking her fear. ‘You bitch. She was an old lady.’

  ‘She didn’t have long to live,’ said The Wraith evenly. ‘I could smell it on her. I just helped her on her way. But the point is, you’ve got to stop lying, or you’re next. So I ask again, where’s Ray Mason?’

  Tina had stared down gun barrels before, but she didn’t think she’d ever faced an adversary as cold-blooded as this. It was the casualness with which she’d murdered Mrs West, as if she was doing nothing more than swatting a fly. She knew now that a wrong answer could be fatal.

  ‘When I left him earlier he was in my house. I think he’s still there now.’

  The Wraith nodded. ‘Good answer, because I think he is too. I heard the toilet flush on the other side of the wall a few minutes ago. That’s the problem with these quaint little English cottages. You can hear everything. Now, take out your phone very slowly, put the phone on speaker, and call him. Say that you’ve just seen the police in the village, and tell him to go out the back way into the garden. And make it sound like you mean it or I’ll put a bullet in your belly.’

  Tina hesitated.

  ‘Do it now,’ The Wraith snapped. ‘Don’t test my patience. It won’t end well.’

  And that was the problem. Tina knew it wasn’t going to end well, whether she made the call or not. But she knew she had to do whatever it took to prolong her life so she took out her burner phone and called Ray, thinking fast.

  ‘Hey Tina, where are you?’ he asked. ‘I thought I heard your car pull up.’

  Tina stared at The Wraith and the gun in her hand. She knew that if Ray went out the back entrance, he’d be a sitting duck. The distance from Mrs West’s bedroom window to her back patio was no more than twenty-five feet. The Wraith wouldn’t miss from there. But she also wouldn’t want to be looking out of the window with Tina at her back, which meant as soon as Tina finished the phone call, she was dead.

  She watched the woman’s finger tighten on the trigger.

  ‘That’s right, I’ve just arrived now,’ said Tina, feeling awful that she was about to sentence him to death. ‘But there are police all over the village. Plainclothes. I’ve seen them. You need to get out the back way now. Go.’

  ‘Thanks, hun,’ he said, using his old pet name for her. ‘I’m gone. I’ll call you when I can.’

  He ended the call, and Tina slowly put the phone back in her pocket, her whole body tensing, suddenly feeling terribly vulnerable because she knew there was no way the woman opposite her was going to let her walk free from here.

  And she was right.

  ‘Thanks, Tina, that wasn’t so hard, was it?’ said The Wraith, and shot her twice in the chest.

  I was in Tina’s bedroom when I got the call. I was on my feet in an instant, throwing on the backpack that contained my meagre possessions and crawling over to the bedroom window. If the police were going to raid the place they’d come from the back and the front, but when I lifted my eyes just above the bottom of the frame, I could see that the hill rising up beyond Tina’s back garden to the woodland at the top was empty.

  Moving fast, I crawled out onto the landing to the front bedroom, which looked out over the high street, and peered out of the window as surreptitiously as possible. The street too was empty. Completely. And Tina’s car was parked directly outside, with no sign of Tina herself.

  Something was wrong here, but staying put wasn’t an option. Crawling back away from the window, I pulled out the burner phone and called Steve Brennan’s mobile number.

  Brennan answered on the third ring.

  ‘There’s been a change of plan,’ I whispered, getting to my feet and running down the stairs. ‘How soon can you get to the rendezvous point?’

  ‘I drove up early. I can be there in about …’ He paused. ‘The satnav says fourteen minutes.’

  ‘Do me a favour, Steve, and put your foot down. I’ll meet you in ten.’

  28

  This whole thing was turning into a messy job for Jane Kelman. Two more people dead, and she still hadn’t taken out Mason.

  Now she stood in the shadows behind the old lady’s open bedroom window, waiting for her target to come out of the back of Tina’s house and into view. The light was beginning to fade, which suited her fine. She could still get a good shot at Mason, and with no witnesses either as the temperature was dropping fast and none of the neighbours were outside. She’d make the kill and escape the way she’d come in, up the hill and into the woods b
eyond, where she’d parked her car earlier.

  She didn’t like waiting around like this. Her usual MO was to take someone out then put as much distance between them and her as possible. The only reason she was putting this much effort into taking out Mason was because of the amount of money on offer for his death. Three hundred thousand dollars, including the bonus the client had just paid her to keep going with the job. With everything else she’d made and invested over the years, she was only a couple more jobs away from a comfortable retirement at her condo in Panama.

  Unfortunately, for a man with the police on his tail, Mason didn’t seem to be in any particular hurry to emerge. She looked at her watch. Five minutes since Tina Boyd had ended the call and there was still no sign of him.

  ‘Come on, come on,’ she whispered.

  And then she saw the back door to Tina’s house fly open and Mason come running out, keeping low, turning round and looking up just as she aimed the pistol at him and pulled the trigger.

  He was already diving for cover and the bullet struck his backpack in a puff of smoke. But now he was down on his hands and knees on the patio and she took aim again, this time at his head, her finger tightening on the trigger, only vaguely aware of movement behind her.

  Tina had still been wearing the Kevlar vest under her sweatshirt and jacket when The Wraith had shot her and, although she fell down hard, banging her head in the process, she was still very much alive, if badly winded. She’d lain utterly still, holding her breath with her eyes closed, knowing that at any moment the woman could walk over and put a third and final bullet in her head. It had been an utterly terrifying few minutes, made worse because she’d been so helpless.

  But then, as it had become clear that this wasn’t going to happen, Tina had opened one eye and watched the woman as she stood at the window, all her concentration now on her new target.

  Tina had known that the chances of her creeping up on the woman without being heard were almost zero. Her best bet was to stay where she was. But that way she was sentencing Ray to death.