Cold Killing

by Luke Delaney

  Finally he arrived in Farringdon and made his way to the bar he had chosen the day before. It was busy enough but not heaving. Ideal. He headed straight to the toilet unnoticed. The cubicle he wanted was unoccupied. Two customers stood at the urinals, not noticing him as he shut the door. He didn’t have time to wait for them to leave – in fact, it was better they were there. Soon the police would be here, inside the bar looking for him. He began to undress.

  Sean’s mobile vibrated on the desk in front of him. He kept reading the email as he answered absentmindedly. ‘Hello.’

  ‘Guv. It’s Jean Colville.’ Sean recognized the surveillance team’s DS. ‘Your man certainly knows his counter-surveillance tactics.’

  ‘I noticed,’ said Sean ironically. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Farringdon. Trying to keep up with your target. He’s in a bar in Farringdon Road. He gave us the right run around, but we’re still on him. Bit thin on the ground, but the others are doing their best to catch up.’

  ‘Is the bar covered?’ Sean asked, concerned.

  ‘Just. I got one unit around the back – there’s only one exit there. Three in the bar and two more out the front. Apparently your man’s in the toilet. There’s no other way out of there other than the door leading to the bar. So as long as he stays in there, we’re solid.’

  ‘Good.’ Sean breathed easier. ‘Don’t give this one an inch. If you can’t see what he’s doing, assume he’s doing something we’d rather he wasn’t.’

  ‘Understood. I’ll call you if the situation changes.’

  ‘It’ll change,’ Sean warned her. ‘Just be ready when it does.’ He hung up.

  ‘Problem?’ Donnelly asked, appearing at Sean’s open door.

  ‘Not yet,’ Sean replied. ‘They’ve followed Hellier to Farringdon.’

  ‘Well, so long as they don’t lose him this time. By the way, you should know Jonnie Dempsey has turned up. Handed himself in at Walworth. The locals are holding him for us. Apparently he’s telling them that he’d been helping himself to a portion of the night’s takings from his till on a regular basis. He thought the management were on to him, so he took off. When he heard the place was crawling with Old Bill, he decided to lay low. But eventually he decided things were getting a bit too serious to ignore and thought it best to hand himself in.’

  ‘Scratch one suspect,’ Sean said.

  He saw Sally enter the main office. He hadn’t spoken with her since that morning. He caught her eye and beckoned her over. ‘How did your meeting with Gibran go?’ he asked.

  Sally took a seat without being invited. ‘It was interesting enough. He certainly didn’t give me any reason to suspect Hellier less. Said he’d been acting out of character lately, missing appointments and so on, and that he felt he was only now seeing the real James Hellier. That the other Hellier, before this all started happening, was the fake. He also said Hellier had been rambling on about living his life beyond good and evil.’

  ‘Nietzsche,’ Sean spoke involuntarily.

  ‘Pardon?’ Donnelly asked.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Sean. ‘It’s not important. Anything else?’ he asked Sally.

  ‘Not really,’ she replied. ‘He was probably just trying to find out what we knew.’

  ‘So long as he paid for lunch,’ Donnelly said.

  ‘As a matter of fact, he did,’ Sally told him. ‘Which is more than you’ve ever done,’ she added.

  ‘Harsh, but fair,’ said Donnelly.

  ‘What did you do with the rest of the afternoon?’ Sean asked, not meaning to sound as though he was checking on her.

  ‘Lunch took longer than I’d expected.’ She blushed, recalling her time with Gibran and how she’d been in no rush to end their meeting. ‘After that I chased up some inquiries at the Public Records Office, but they didn’t have my results yet. I hear Hellier’s been bailed.’

  ‘We can’t hold him until the DNA results are confirmed,’ Sean explained. ‘Takes too long.’

  ‘And if the DNA isn’t Hellier’s?’ she asked.

  ‘Then I’ll be in the shit,’ Sean said bluntly. ‘So don’t be standing too close.’

  Hellier had been in the toilet for less than a minute. He could hear people coming and going outside the cubicle. He moved quickly now. Unconcerned about noise. He stood in only his underpants and socks.

  He lifted the lid of the toilet cistern and placed it on the toilet seat. He pulled the plastic bag from the cistern and untied it. Carefully he undid the parcel and laid out the gun and spare magazine. He checked his watch. Six forty-five. Fifteen minutes to spare. He clicked the battery back into the mobile phone. He would turn it on once he’d left the bar.

  He dressed in the tracksuit, T-shirt and trainers. He stuffed the gun in the back of his waistband and tied the trouser cord tight. He put the phone in one of the top’s pockets and the spare magazine in the other.

  Finally he unwrapped the remaining cloth. He twisted the lid off the tube of theatrical glue and rubbed a little on the back of the fake moustache. He stuck it under his lip, using touch to ensure it was placed perfectly. Next he did the same with the matching eyebrows. The wig he donned last. He didn’t need a mirror to know his appearance had been transformed. He smiled to himself.

  He neatly folded his discarded clothes and placed them along with his shoes into the plastic bag. He replaced it in the cistern. He might need it later. You could never tell. He delicately replaced the cistern’s lid. One last deep breath to compose himself and he left the cubicle. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he left. He smiled. He walked out of the toilet and then he walked out of the bar.

  DS Colville checked her watch. Ten minutes had passed and still the only updates she was hearing on her team’s covert body-set radios were ‘No change.’ Sean’s words rang loudly in her head. She spoke into the radio.

  ‘I don’t like this. Tango Four, check inside the toilet.’

  Her radio made a double-click sound. The officer code named Tango Four had received and understood her transmission. She waited for an update. Two minutes passed. They seemed like two hours. Her radio hissed into life.

  ‘Control. Control. Tango Four.’

  ‘Go. Go,’ she instructed.

  ‘We have a problem, Control.’

  DS Colville gritted her teeth. ‘Expand, over.’

  ‘Target One isn’t in the toilet, over.’

  ‘Does any unit have eyeball on Target One?’ she called into her radio. Silence was her only answer. ‘Look for him, people. Does anyone have eyeball on Target One?’ Silence.

  She turned to the detective driving their unmarked car. ‘I don’t believe this,’ she muttered. ‘Okay. Target is a loss. Repeat target is a loss. All units bomb burst. Foot units search the bar. Everyone else swamp the surrounding area. Find him.’

  Throwing the radio on to the dashboard in disgust, she reached for her mobile phone. She searched the phone’s menu for Sean’s number.

  Sean listened as DS Colville told him what he most dreaded hearing. Hellier was on the loose once more. ‘How?’ he said into the phone.

  ‘We don’t know,’ DS Colville replied. ‘We had him cornered in the toilet one minute, then, he disappears. No one sees him leave. We didn’t miss anything. He just disappeared. We’ll keep searching the area until we pick him up.’

  ‘Save yourselves the bother,’ Sean said wearily. ‘You won’t find him until he wants to be found. Cover his house and office. Call me when he turns up.’ He hung up.

  ‘Please tell me that wasn’t what I think it was?’ Sally said.

  ‘I wish I could.’

  ‘How?’ Sally asked.

  ‘It doesn’t matter how.’

  ‘What now?’ Donnelly asked.

  ‘We keep our heads,’ Sean told them. ‘Hope he resurfaces. In the meantime, contact Special Branch and get a photograph of Hellier to them. Make sure they circulate it to all ports of exit, planes, trains, everywhere.’

  ‘You think he’ll t
ry and skip the country?’ Sally asked.

  ‘DNA evidence is difficult to argue against. Hellier knows that. Perhaps he’s decided he has no choice but to run.’

  ‘Is that his style, to run?’ Sally didn’t look convinced.

  ‘He’s a survivor,’ said Sean. ‘He’ll do whatever it takes to survive. If that means running, then he’ll run.’

  Hellier sat on a bench in Regent’s Park waiting for the friend to call. He had said he would call at seven. It was now almost half past.

  What was this damn game? Hellier had no friends. No real friends. Most likely it was a journalist, trying to set him up. He stared at the phone in the palm of his hand, willing it to ring. He had to know who the friend was. His overpowering need to control everything meant he simply had to know. Once he knew, once he decided whether they were a threat or not, he would deal with them accordingly. After that, home. The children he would leave alone, but his wife; she would be his parting gift to DI Corrigan.

  The police would be watching his home though. He would have to be careful. He would let his wife take the children to school in the morning. He would fake illness. When she returned, he would be waiting for her. After he’d finished with her he’d spend the rest of the day running the police around town. He would lead them a merry song and dance for hours. They could never stay with him for that long. Not him. He knew their tactics too well. And once he was certain he had lost them, he would disappear.

  By the time they became suspicious and broke into his house, it would be too late. He would be thirty thousand feet above their heads. A false passport was already waiting for him in a Hampstead fine china shop. Once he collected the tickets, he would catch a train to Birmingham. His flight for Rome left at 8 p.m. After a two-hour wait at Rome Airport he would board a connecting flight to Singapore. Two flights later he would arrive in his new home.

  His phone began to vibrate. He answered it calmly. ‘James Hellier.’

  ‘It’s me,’ said the friend’s voice. ‘Sorry I’m late.’

  ‘I don’t like being kept waiting.’ Hellier wanted to dominate. ‘This is your last chance to impress me.’

  ‘Oh. You’ll be impressed. I can guarantee that.’ Hellier sensed a change in the friend’s voice. He thought he could detect an arrogance that hadn’t been there previously. There was a hint of danger, too. He didn’t like it.

  ‘I’m going to ask you a question,’ Hellier responded, determined to take charge, show his strength. ‘You will answer yes or no. You have three seconds exactly to answer. If you answer no or fail to answer in the time allowed, I will hang up and we will never contact each other again. Understood?’

  ‘I understand.’ The voice didn’t argue. Hellier had expected he would.

  ‘Will you meet me?’ Hellier asked. ‘Tonight?’

  ‘Yes,’ the friend answered on the count of two. ‘As long as you promise you’ll do one thing.’

  ‘I don’t make promises to people I don’t know,’ Hellier answered.

  ‘Stay away from other people until we meet,’ the voice asked regardless. ‘No bars or restaurants, and don’t go home or to your office. The police will be waiting there. Stay alone. Stay hidden.’

  Now Hellier understood. In that second it had become all too clear to him. It all made sense. His eyes opened wide as he realized who he was speaking with. Who else could it be?

  ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘I’ll do as you say until we meet.’

  ‘I will call you, later tonight, and let you know when and where. Agreed?’

  ‘Agreed.’ Hellier hung up.

  What did his friend expect? That he would hide in a bush in the park, like a frightened, wounded animal? Not him. This was London, one of his favourite playgrounds. And he had so little time left to play.

  No. He had better things to do than cower and wait.

  ‘I know who you are, my friend.’ He spoke to himself. ‘And when we meet, you’ll tell me a thing or two. Then I’ll feed you your own testicles, before I gut you like a pig.’

  Sean arrived home late, again. He’d hoped Kate would be in bed, but as he quietly opened the front door he could sense her presence. He followed the glow coming from the kitchen and found her tapping at her laptop, hair tied back, heavy glasses adorning her fine-boned face. ‘You’re up late,’ was all he could think of to say.

  ‘You’re not the only one who has to work late. I work too, remember?’ This was not how Sean wanted the conversation to begin. He’d had enough conflict for one day. ‘I need to get this plan for restructuring the A and E Department finished or I might not be part of the new structure myself.’ Again Sean didn’t answer. ‘You’re not really interested, are you?’

  ‘Sorry?’ Sean asked over his shoulder.

  ‘Never mind,’ she snapped, shaking her head with disapproval. ‘We’ve been invited to dinner at Joe and Tim’s next weekend, so make sure you book the night off, all right?’

  ‘Err …’ escaped Sean’s lips.

  ‘Well, I’m overwhelmed by your enthusiasm at the thought of spending an evening with me,’ Kate said sarcastically.

  ‘It’s not you,’ Sean tried to assure her.

  ‘I thought you liked Tim, and there’ll be other people there too,’ Kate encouraged.

  ‘I don’t know Tim. I’ve met him, but I don’t know him.’

  ‘Come on, Sean,’ Kate appealed. ‘Just book the time off.’

  ‘It’s not that easy, is it?’

  ‘Why?’ Kate asked. ‘Can’t you bear being away from your police friends even for one night?’

  ‘They’re not my friends,’ Sean answered too quickly.

  ‘Whatever, Sean, but you know and I know that you can’t stand to be with “non-police” people,’ Kate simulated quotation marks with her fingers, ‘because you’re all so fucking important that the rest of us mere mortals might as well not exist. True?’

  Sean waited a long time before answering. ‘Don’t swear. I don’t like it when you swear.’

  ‘Well stop giving me so fucking much to swear about.’ Sean turned his back. ‘Come on, Sean,’ Kate softened. ‘I don’t sell insurance for a living, I’m a doctor in Guy’s A and E. Whatever awful things you’ve seen, I’ve seen them too, but I manage to lower myself to speak to people who live normal lives – so why can’t you?’

  ‘Because they’re …’ Sean managed to stop himself answering truthfully, but it was too late.

  ‘Because they’re what?’ Kate pursued him. ‘Because they’re boring, because they bore you?’

  ‘Jesus, Kate,’ he protested. ‘Give it a rest, will you?’

  ‘So you’re never going to speak to anyone again who isn’t a cop?’

  ‘That’s ridiculous.’

  ‘No, it’s not. It’s the truth.’

  Sean grabbed a bottle of bourbon from one of the kitchen cupboards, a glass from another and poured himself a generous measure. He took a sip before speaking again. ‘Christ, you know what it’s like. As soon as people find out what I do, all they want to talk to me about is the job, fishing for the gory details. They haven’t got a bloody clue. If they did, they wouldn’t ask.’

  ‘Maybe it’s us who haven’t got a clue, Sean,’ Kate said quietly. ‘Maybe we’re the ones who’ve got it all wrong, wasting our lives knee-deep in life’s crap.’

  ‘Why, because we know the truth? Because we know life isn’t really a shiny advert?’ Sean argued. ‘I’d rather be awake and live in isolation than be like all those mugs out there, walking around without a fucking clue.’

  Kate breathed in deeply and cleared her head. She’d dealt with this before and knew she’d have to deal with it again. ‘Is this about your childhood or about being a detective?’

  ‘Oh, come on, Kate. Let’s not get into that, not now,’ Sean answered.

  ‘Okay,’ Kate agreed. ‘But if you ever need to talk about it, I’m here.’

  ‘I’m tired, that’s all. I’m fine,’ Sean insisted. ‘I’m just very tired.’

>   ‘Of course you’re tired,’ Kate agreed. ‘You haven’t slept more than three hours a night since this new one started. Look, I’m going to bed. Why don’t you come with me?’

  ‘I need a minute or two to unwind,’ Sean told her. ‘I’ll be there soon.’

  ‘Come now,’ Kate pleaded. ‘I’ll rub your shoulders while you fall asleep.’

  ‘I’ll be there in a few minutes – promise,’ he lied. The thought of tossing and turning, fighting the ever-present demons was unbearable.

  ‘Don’t be long,’ she said, turning from him.

  He watched her move from the kitchen table and glide towards the stairs, once looking over her shoulder to smile at him, the harsh words of seconds ago forgotten, at least by her. Once she was out of sight, Sean reached for the bottle of bourbon and poured another generous measure.

  Sally parked her car close to her flat. Sean had sent them all home. They might as well get a few hours’ sleep before Hellier turned up again, if he ever did. She searched for her front door keys buried deep in the bottom of her handbag. Breaking one of her own rules – never stand at the front door fumbling for house keys.

  ‘For God’s sake,’ she grumbled, losing her grip of her handbag and spilling the contents on to the ground. She stared at the disaster. ‘Fucking great.’

  Sally knelt down and began to collect the debris. At least she’d found her keys. Something made her spin around. Still kneeling, she surveyed the area around her. Suddenly she couldn’t remember what had startled her. She gave a nervous laugh and gathered the rest of her belongings.

  She stood and looked along the street. It was almost unnaturally quiet. The way only city streets could be in the night. Somewhere streets away a dog barked. The sound somehow made her feel better. She unlocked the communal front door, entered and closed it behind her. She pressed the light timer switch in the hallway, giving her thirty seconds of light before the darkness returned.

  Hurriedly she climbed the stairs to her first-floor flat, again fumbling for her keys and cursing herself. Why was she nervous? Slow down. Put the key in the lock and turn it. The door opened. She almost fell in to the flat. She hadn’t realized she’d been leaning on the door so hard. Closing the door behind her, she threw the bolts across the bottom and top.