The Disciple

by Steven Dunne

  ‘There’s no need, Ed,’ said Nicole. ‘He can’t do anything without giving himself away. Let’s put him under for a day.’

  ‘He comes with us, hon. Let’s hustle.’

  ‘What about me, Ed?’ asked Drexler. ‘Anything I can do?’

  ‘Give us a hand with the luggage?’

  Nicole marched Brook in front of her, a gun at his back, a coat thrown over his bound wrists. They went carefully down the stairs and, on reaching the entrance hall, continued down another flight to the basement.

  ‘How’s your hand?’

  ‘It hurts.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Brook turned his head to her. ‘She’s going to kill me, Nicole. You know that, don’t you? Mike too probably.’

  ‘She’s not like that, now stop talking.’

  ‘People change.’

  ‘That’s not the way it works, Damen. Uncle Vic wouldn’t allow it.’

  ‘Sorenson’s dead and I’ll be joining him soon. She knows the area, right?’

  ‘She’s lived in Derby the last two years. I was in Brighton mostly.’

  ‘Want to bet we’ll make a detour down a deserted road on the way?’

  ‘Give it a rest, Damen.’ Nicole halted Brook next to a parking bay containing a sleek black Audi. She opened the side door, took out a roll of gaffer tape and stretched a piece over Brook’s mouth before pushing him into the back seat. She sat behind the wheel and glanced up at Brook in the driver’s mirror. His eyes were fixed on hers.

  Two minutes later, Drexler and McQuarry emerged into the gloom carrying two bags. Each placed a bag in the boot before McQuarry closed it.

  Drexler looked at her. ‘Well, I guess this is it. What time’s your plane?’

  McQuarry smiled back. ‘It’s a private jet. Takeoff’s when we get there.’

  ‘Smooth.’

  ‘Say, Mike. Come and see us off, would you? I’d appreciate it. You can drive the car back here.’

  ‘You’re coming back?’

  ‘You never know.’

  Drexler gazed into his former partner’s eyes, a thin smile barely grazing his features.

  ‘Don’t worry. The satnav will get you back.’

  Drexler’s smile broadened. ‘Sure, Ed. I’d like that. But no tears this time.’

  McQuarry laughed. ‘You sit in front with Nicky.’

  ‘Why is Agent Drexler coming?’ asked Nicole, starting the car.

  ‘He’s going to drive the car back,’ McQuarry replied, not looking at her. She sat next to Brook in the back and when the car reached the security gate she waved a card at a sensor and it opened. She passed the security card forward to Drexler. ‘You’ll need this when you bring the car back, Mike.’ He pocketed it with a nod. ‘And you better have these, Inspector Damen Brook.’ Nicole looked in the mirror as McQuarry took the keys to the flat and dropped them in Brook’s jacket pocket. ‘Just in case you come to your senses – it’s a good location if you need to store supplies and there are plenty of resources already there.’ Brook managed his best sceptical expression, despite his taped mouth. Thank God for eyebrows.

  They set off through the deserted streets of Derby for the short trip to East Midlands Airport, past the Midland Hotel and the Indian restaurant in which Nicole/Laura had poisoned DCI Hudson. Within fifteen minutes they were on the A50 heading towards the motorway.

  Brook used his bound hands to wind down the rear window a crack to suck in the cold, mulchy air. McQuarry looked over. ‘The childlocks on, honey?’ she asked Nicole.

  ‘They’re on.’

  Ten minutes later they exited a roundabout. Nicole pulled on a baseball cap which made her look more anonymous, presumably for the upcoming airport cameras.

  ‘Drive straight on,’ said McQuarry.

  Nicole looked sharply at Brook in the mirror. ‘Why?’ she asked a little too loudly.

  ‘We can hardly drive into the airport with the inspector bound and gagged, honey. We’ll just drop him in the middle of nowhere and he can walk back to civilisation. Okay with you, Inspector?’

  Brook broke off his stare into the driver’s mirror, but made no effort to acknowledge the question. Another five minutes and the streetlights disappeared and the roads started to narrow and meander.

  Nicole was forced to drive much slower and Brook kept his gaze on her. When she wasn’t looking at Brook, her eyes were darting from side to side.

  ‘It’s the middle of winter, Ed. What if the inspector turns an ankle and can’t walk? He could die of hypothermia.’

  McQuarry flashed back a private-joke smile. ‘He’ll be fine, honey. We’ll wrap him up warm. Take the next left.’

  Nicole turned left onto a one-car track, slowing the car to fifteen miles an hour. She had to put the headlights on full beam.

  ‘Pull in here,’ ordered McQuarry. The car halted next to a field covered in grass. Apart from those of the car and the moon and stars in the sky, there were no lights visible anywhere.

  Nicole wouldn’t look at Brook and he got the impression she was breathing heavily.

  ‘Everybody out.’ The gun had reappeared in McQuarry’s hand and she dragged Brook from his seat. She pulled him round the car and walked him into the semi-gloom at the edge of the headlight beam before pushing him to his knees. Nicole and Drexler got out but didn’t venture away from the vehicle. McQuarry tore off the gag and Brook exercised his jaw. He thought about shouting for help, but didn’t want to hasten his end.

  ‘If you’ve got any prayers, Brook, now’s the time.’ She tapped the back of his head with the nozzle of her gun.

  Brook managed a bitter one-note chuckle. ‘I’m British, Ed. We’ve abolished God.’ The sight of one of his final breaths condensing in the air made him yearn for a last cigarette.

  McQuarry turned to the car, a huge toothy grin on her mouth. ‘This is a funny guy. What a waste.’

  ‘This isn’t right, Ed. Brook’s a police officer. Uncle Vic wouldn’t want this.’ Nicole’s voice was strained, her speech punctuated by sharp breaths visible in the cold.

  ‘Uncle Vic is in the ground, honey, and times change. Only people don’t. He’s fucked up too many times. We can’t trust him.’

  ‘You can’t kill him, Ed,’ Nicole tried again. ‘He’s served. He’s one of the good guys.’

  ‘I’ll make it quick, honey,’ answered McQuarry. ‘But we can’t leave him. He knows too much. Now let’s not drag this out.’

  ‘Ed, please don’t. He doesn’t know anything.’

  ‘RAG, Inspector Brook. It stands for Reaper Armageddon. On that day, the whole world will know the value of The Reaper’s work.’ McQuarry grinned at Nicole. ‘See, honey, he knows too much.’

  McQuarry turned to Drexler and beckoned him over. After a brief hesitation Drexler walked across to Brook and McQuarry, his arms resolutely inside his coat.

  ‘You said you wanted to make it right, Mike. Here.’ McQuarry changed her own gun to her left hand and took out the M9. ‘Use Sorenson’s gun like you should’ve in Tahoe. It has a nice ring to it.’

  Drexler looked at McQuarry’s outstretched hand, then at Brook, then into McQuarry’s cold eyes. He smiled suddenly then nodded and took the gun, examining it carefully before flicking off the safety. He pointed it at the back of Brook’s head.

  Brook saw the shadow of Drexler’s outstretched arm in the glow of the headlights and closed his eyes. There would be no music tonight.

  ‘The bad guys have guns,’ he muttered, waiting for the explosion.

  A second later Drexler swivelled, pointing the gun at McQuarry. ‘Drop it, Ed.’

  She grinned at him and nodded, but made no move to drop her gun. ‘I knew it.’

  ‘You have to answer for my father.’

  McQuarry smiled faintly. ‘You were always weak.’ She held onto her revolver but made no move to raise it.

  ‘Drop the gun, Ed.’

  ‘So you didn’t put him out of your mind.’

  ‘I couldn’t. I found him without your help
. It was six months after the Golden Nugget. He was working in a soup kitchen in San Francisco. But then you already knew that.’ McQuarry didn’t reply. ‘Did you also know he’d been sober for a year? No? Did you know he gave his time for free? No? Did you know he was doing the twelve steps?’

  McQuarry shrugged.

  ‘He sobbed when I found him, Ed. He begged me to try and forgive him for what he’d done. He said he’d understand if I couldn’t, but he said he loved me and wanted me in his life.’

  ‘And you believed him? What a schmuck.’

  ‘No, I didn’t believe him. And no, I didn’t trust him. But guess what? I no longer wanted him dead. See, he was suffering for what he’d done. I saw that much. It was killing him inside. And if it took years to win back my trust he said he wanted to try. He needed at least that ray of hope. I was prepared to allow him that.’

  ‘He was a wife-beating drunk, Mike.’

  ‘Was? You heard he died then.’

  ‘I heard, Mike,’ smiled McQuarry.

  ‘Did you hear someone waited for him in his fleapit hotel and cut his throat?’

  ‘I didn’t just hear it, Mike. I was there. He took it well. When I told your father you’d sent me, I think he wanted to die. He knew he didn’t deserve to live.’

  ‘People do change, Ed. My father had.’

  ‘No, he hadn’t. The first thing he did when I took out the blade was drop to his knees and start praying. That sound like he’d changed?’

  ‘You’ve changed, Ed. You’re crazy.’

  McQuarry laughed. ‘That’s the thanks I get.’

  ‘Drop the gun, Ed. It’s not too late.’

  McQuarry laughed again. ‘Or what? You’ll shoot me?’

  ‘Before I let you kill a brother officer, yes.’

  She shook her head. ‘Like I said, people don’t change.’ She grinned. ‘This is the second time you’ve put your faith in Sorenson’s gun. Know how easy it is to disable the firing pin, Mike? I could do it with the gun in my pocket in the back of a dark car.’

  Drexler glanced at the weapon then fired the M9 just above McQuarry’s head. The trigger clicked but no bullet was discharged. Drexler nodded and wrenched out a resigned smile.

  ‘See, Mike, you can’t grift a grifter.’

  ‘People do change,’ said Drexler. ‘The Edie McQuarry I knew wouldn’t forget to check my ankle holster.’

  McQuarry’s grin froze on her face as Drexler raised his other hand a fraction before she could raise her own. Deafening explosions and a spray of orange were exchanged and both fell.

  Nicole jumped out from behind the car and ran over to McQuarry. She was dead, her fish eyes glaring up at Pisces in the heavens. Drexler moaned and Nicole turned to him. Brook was on his feet by now, but kneeled again when he saw Drexler. He gestured with his hands to Nicole and she ran back to the car and returned with a scalpel. She severed his bonds and they both pulled Drexler up by the shoulders. He screamed in pain. The bullet had struck him just above the heart. The blood was flowing but he made to speak.

  ‘The good guys too,’ he whispered, then fell back.

  ‘I’ll get your phone,’ sobbed Nicole.

  ‘No, he won’t last. Grab his legs.’

  They grabbed each end of Drexler as delicately as they could manage and stretched him onto the back seat. Brook jumped into the driver’s seat and started the engine. Nicole opened a door.

  ‘Wait!’ said Brook, looking over at McQuarry’s twisted corpse. ‘Empty her pockets.’ Nicole looked at him. ‘Hurry.’

  She bolted over to the body. ‘What about the guns?’

  ‘Leave them.’

  Nicole hurried back to the car and got in the back with Drexler. ‘Hang on, Mike,’ shouted Brook, spinning the wheels out of the field.

  ‘Can you remember the way, Damen?’ Nicole asked. Brook caught her eyes in the driver’s mirror. ‘Every bloody inch.’ She couldn’t hold his look.

  ‘Sal, Sal. It’s okay. It’s okay.’

  Brook looked at his watch. It was 4.30 in the morning. He couldn’t listen to the mumbled panic any more so he reached across to Nicole’s chair and shook her awake. She shuddered, raised her sweat-flecked head from her arms and lifted a bleary eye to Brook.

  ‘Any news?’

  Brook shook his head. ‘Still in surgery.’

  She buried her head in her hands and screwed her face up. ‘What have I done?’

  Brook looked at her. ‘What have you done?’

  She looked at him and then at the floor. ‘Tony was my first, the only one. It wasn’t easy but it wasn’t hard. He raped your daughter when she was only fifteen.’

  Now it was Brook’s turn to look at the floor. ‘And the Inghams?’

  Nicole looked at him and shook her head. ‘If there’s blood, Ed always…’ she couldn’t finish.

  ‘The law won’t make a distinction.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And the boy?’

  After a pause, ‘I held his legs.’ She started to cry. ‘What have I done?’

  ‘And you emptied McQuarry’s pockets?’

  ‘Completely,’ she said. ‘If you’re worried about what I’ll say about you and Sorenson…’

  ‘I never worry about me. I have weaknesses. That’s my strength.’

  ‘Yes but—’

  ‘You never lost that accent. Why?’

  ‘What has that—?’

  ‘Why?’

  Nicole hesitated until her confusion gave way to resignation. ‘Uncle Vic hired a private tutor. She was English.’ Brook smiled.

  ‘Why is that funny? Why is it even significant?’

  ‘And whose idea was it to become a police officer?’

  ‘Uncle Vic thought…’

  ‘Let me guess. He thought it would help his work.’ Nicole looked away. ‘It would give you access to deserving cases. To men like Caleb. Like Harvey-Ellis. Like me.’

  After suitable reflection, Nicole answered with a barely audible, ‘Yes.’

  Brook threw her the car keys, then the keys to the flat in Magnet House. ‘It’s a gunshot. They have to inform the police. I showed them my warrant card so that buys you some time. We’re in a different division so that buys you some more.’

  ‘Where are we?’

  ‘Queens Medical Centre in Nottingham – it was nearer.’ She nodded.

  ‘On your way out clean yourself up and keep that cap down low. Hospitals have cameras. Take the car back to Magnet House and put everything from McQuarry’s pockets: the luggage, passports, everything, back in the flat.’ He gave her the security card for the car park. ‘Leave the car in the darkest bay and cover Mike’s blood with a blanket, then get back to your room at the Midland. You’re ill. You tell Joshua you have to go home. I assume you still have a home?’ She nodded. ‘No dramatic notes telling the world everything?’ This time she shook her head. ‘When you leave tomorrow put all the keys and the card in a padded envelope and leave it at the front desk for me. You’re all over that flat so we can’t risk it being discovered. When things die down, I’ll sort things out.’

  She looked at him. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘You have to hurry.’

  Nicole put a hand on his and sought his eyes. ‘You don’t have to risk everything for me.’

  ‘Sorenson did.’

  ‘But now I know what I’ve done. I have to pay for that.’

  Brook looked up at her. ‘You have paid. And if you’re anything like me, you’ll keep paying. That’s why I have to help you.’ Nicole was still perplexed. ‘When you were asleep you kept mumbling your sister’s name. You suffered a trauma no child should have to go through. And you were fifteen when Sorenson got hold of you. You were easy meat. Don’t you see? The private tutor, the career choice – Sorenson controlled you, groomed you.’ Now it was Brook’s turn to look away. ‘I should know. He did the same to me. And no matter what he’d done to save you, you had a right to a normal life or at least a shot at one. Sorenson denied you that.’
>
  Nicole stared at her hands unable to speak.

  ‘You’ve lost half your life, Nicole. Some killers get out in ten years. You know what you’ve done? Well, that’s the point. And you have a chance that most killers never get. You have another life to step into and a job that will allow you to spend the rest of that life making amends. What I can do, you can do. Now go.’

  Finally she looked at him. ‘What will you say?’

  ‘I’ll think of something. I’ve had a lot of practice.’

  ‘But if Agent Drexler makes it—’

  ‘He’s been shot. If he makes it, he won’t remember anything for a while.’

  ‘I still don’t—’

  Brook got her to her feet. ‘Call it a leap of faith.’ Nicole moved into him and kissed him softly on the lips. He pulled her away. ‘Goodbye, Nicole. Next time we meet you can tell me all about the Golden Nugget.’

  ‘Call me Laura.’ Her eyes lingered over his, then she hurried out, grabbing a white coat from a hook as she went.

  Brook looked after her. ‘Laura – beautiful name.’

  Epilogue

  Denise Ottoman had blinked in disbelief at the crowds outside the police station. There were journalists screaming questions at her, including that pushy one from the Telegraph with the yellow teeth. Then photographers and cameramen pointed bright lights in her face and shouted ‘This way, Denise’ or ‘Over here, Mrs O’. She hadn’t given a comment, not from choice but from sheer befuddlement. Even more bewildering were the dozens of people gathered outside the gates cheering, some carrying hastily produced placards with various slogans: ‘Go Jo Den. You got the X Factor.’ ‘Scum in fear, the Reaper’s near’ and the cryptic ‘Sugar and spice, all throats sliced’.

  Even at home there were well-wishers and back-clappers, though the two uniformed officers managed to get her inside unmolested. Hours later, she was sitting up in bed with a mug of cocoa, pulling her legs into her chest as hard as she could. It was nearing midnight – the telephone was off the hook and the freshening wind had dispersed the crowd who had gone to their own beds. Denise took a sip of lukewarm cocoa. No sleep without John.