by Philip Cox
‘Until you decide?’ said Tom. ‘I thought it was Fleming who called the shots.’
‘Fleming doesn’t call anything anymore. Or maybe St Peter, perhaps.’
‘You mean..?’
‘Enough talk.’ Merchant started to close the door.
‘Hey!’ Tom called out. ‘You haven’t answered my question.’
Merchant paused closing the door.
‘Which one of you killed my ex-wife?’
Merchant snorted. ‘Afraid you’re barking up the wrong tree, sunshine. That stupid cow jumped in front of the train. Did us a favour, though.’
‘Why, you piece of -’ Tom made to rush at Merchant but she had already closed the door. They heard the lock click. Tom ran to the door and tried it, unsuccessfully. He walked back to Amy and hugged her.
‘What do you think she meant? About Lisa just jumping in front of the train?’
‘Forget it. Just playing with us. I told you - there’s no way she would have jumped.’
‘What do we do now?’ Amy asked.
Tom looked around the room. There was just the one door. There was no other furniture in the room apart from the two couches and the table. There was an empty water dispenser in the corner. Two windows the other side of the room, both around two feet deep from the ceiling down. Tom walked over and looked up at them: they were totally sealed; no way to open either of them.
‘Wait here, I guess. What else can we do?’
Amy shrugged and sat down on one of the couches.
‘I wonder where she sent the albino?’ Tom asked, nobody in particular.
‘What?’
‘Nothing. Just - just thinking aloud, that’s all.’
He sat down next to Amy. ‘So it’s all just one big counterfeiting organization,’ he said.
‘Just all about money.’
‘So’s anything else dodgy,’ Tom said. ‘If there were drugs in those boxes, or if they were human trafficking, it would still be all about money. There’s just doing it the old fashioned way. And if that one box is anything to go by, the operation could be worth billions. I wonder if they print the stuff here.’
‘On printing presses, you mean? Like newspapers?’
‘I guess so. I’m no expert, but you can’t just put a tenner on a scanner and print your own that way. They must have sophisticated equipment somewhere. Not sure if it’s still done on an old fashioned press. I’m sure it’s done digitally, somehow.’
‘What about the money Lisa had, then? Was she taking it as evidence?’
‘Must have been. There was no way she would have been in on it; but even if she was, the amount she had was chicken feed. I reckon she took a sample for evidence, like you said, then -’
‘Then decided to confide in you?’
‘Mm. After what happened to Jimmy Khan, she must have decided she couldn’t keep things to herself.’
‘But the money was still in her locker. Why didn’t she take it with her?’
Tom shrugged. ‘We’ll never know,’ he said, standing up and walking around.
Amy watched him pacing around. ‘Tom...’
‘Mmm?’
She took a deep breath. ‘If - if we never get out of here, I just...’
‘Don’t even go there,’ he said, sitting down next to her. ‘We’re going to get out, don’t worry.’
He put his arm round her and rested his head on the top of hers. Same here, he thought.
*****
Merchant was waiting outside by the Chrysler. She watched Vine walk back. ‘Well,’ she asked.
Vine shook his head. ‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘No sign.’
‘Okay. I just wanted to make sure. Right. Let’s sort these kids out. We’ve wasted enough time on them. I need to check some of the stuff here. You take them out there. Here are the keys.’ She indicated over to woods. ‘Bury them there afterwards. You’ll find a spade in the shed round the back.’
They both went back inside and down the corridor. Once in the storage room, Merchant went over to the drawers and pulled one open. Vine pulled out a gun from his belt and headed for Room One.
*****
Tom and Amy looked up as they heard Vine unlock the door.
‘Right, this way,’ he said, indicating with the gun.
‘Where you taking us?’ asked Tom.
‘You’ll find out pretty soon,’ Vine sneered. ‘Just get a move on.’
He took them back along the corridor. ‘Over that way,’ he said once they had got outside. ‘Into the woods.’
Amy whimpered and grasped Tom’s hand tightly.
As they slowly walked towards the woodland they heard a faint crack. Tom heard a sound from behind and turned round. Vine was still standing behind them, pointing the revolver at them. His mouth was agape, and where the red burning eyes had been was a gaping hole in his head.
Chapter Forty-Four
Amy put her hand to her mouth and screamed as Vine’s body toppled forwards and collapsed onto the driveway, what was left of his face buried in the gravel.
‘Quick, let’s get under cover,’ Tom cried, clutching Amy’s hand and running with her over to the woodland. They dived beneath some bushes. Tom was expecting further gunfire as they ran, but none came.
The rear passenger door of the Chrysler swung open and Carter half climbed, half dropped onto the roadway. He limped away from the car, looking around and pulling a handgun from a holster under his jacket. He looked over at the woods: not where Tom and Amy had run, but over in the direction of the gates. He seemed to see something in the distance, and fired. Then there was another crack from the undergrowth, maybe slightly louder than the first. Arms and legs apart, Carter flew backwards, landing on the bonnet of the Chrysler, rolling off onto the ground. He lay still; face down, by the Grand Voyager tyre.
‘Oh my God,’ Tom muttered, running both hands through his hair. He could feel that the back of his head was damp, and there was something in his hair; he looked at his hands and saw they had on them blood and small pieces of what looked like bone. He realised what had happened: as the bullet hit Vine, he and Amy had been hit by the spray of blood and bone from his exploding head. Seeing this, Amy felt the back of her hair too. She made a whimpering sound as she tried frantically to rub the blood off her hands on the bushes.
‘No, leave it.’ Tom held her arms and put his around her. ‘We need to get out of here,’ he added, cautiously looking around the undergrowth.
‘Who’s shooting?’ she asked. ‘What’s going on?’
‘I’ve no idea, but think about this: whoever’s out there, they’re a bloody good shot. If they were aiming for us, they would have easily hit us.’
‘Doesn’t make me feel any better. Or safer.’
‘Me neither. Let’s just take it easy, and cautiously. Keep down as low as you can, and move slowly.’
He moved round to lead Amy away from the building, then stopped and sat up.
‘What is it?’ she asked.
‘Just checking,’ he said, feeling in his pocket and retrieving his mobile. Checked the screen, then put it back.
‘Still no signal?’ she whispered.
He shook his head and returned to his semi-crawling position. ‘Stay close,’ he said quietly. ‘And keep your eyes open.’
They moved slowly from behind the bush, keeping as close to the ground as they could, keeping some shrubs as cover.
Inside the building, Merchant was putting the finishing touches to the work she was carrying out. She was carrying out an inventory: aware that Fleming made at least one trip up here, and wanted to be sure he was leaving everything here. She looked up as she heard, or at least thought she heard, the first shot. Had she closed the main doors, she would have heard nothing at all, but she could just about make out the sound. And the second. She nodded her approval, and returned to the box she was working on. Having finished that one, she lifted it back in its drawer, and slid open the next. By the time she had finished this box, and the next, she would have
expected Vine to have reported back to her that everything was taken care of. She heard the two shots over half an hour ago: surely it can’t have taken him that long to bury two bodies.
She took her phone out of her tweed jacket pocket, and noticed she had no signal.
‘Jesus Christ,’ she grumbled. ‘Do I have to do everything?’
She slammed the drawer shut and marched out along the corridor, out to the front door.
*****
‘I need to rest,’ Amy said. ‘Just a minute. Sorry.’
‘All right.’ Tom turned round and sat down. ‘You okay?’
Amy nodded then shook her head. ‘No, I’m not really.’ She wiped her eyes with her hand, leaving dirty streaks over her face. Tom stroked her cheek.
‘Don’t forget what I said,’ he said softly, looking into her eyes. ‘They’re obviously not aiming for us. If whoever he - or she - is, they’re after them. So that means they’re on our side.’
Amy nodded, swallowing.
‘Ready to go on?’
She nodded again.
Tom turned and they resumed their slow progress through the woods. On our side. Hope they know that too.
*****
Merchant came out of the facility. Looking around, she saw no sign of Vine or Carter. She called their names. As she looked around, she caught a glimpse of Carter lying at the front of the Chrysler.
‘What the -?’ She stepped round the front of the car. Knelt down and turned over Carter’s body.
She gasped as she turned him over to reveal the large crimson stain on his shirt. She then looked up and around and saw Vine. She didn’t need to check him further to know what had happened.
‘You…’ she snarled as she picked up Carter’s handgun.
*****
Tom guessed that by now he and Amy had covered about a hundred yards. He was pretty sure they were moving further away from the building. Hopefully nearer to where they had left the Ka; if not, with any luck they would reach the wall and be able to somehow climb over it. Or find another gate. If they could only get to the other side of that wall. Or get a signal on one of their phones.
‘Down,’ he whispered to Amy as he got a glimpse of a figure running in the distance, through the trees. He was unable to make out who it was, but they were running in the direction of the building. He also thought he could hear, the sound coming from the other direction, somebody running along the gravel.
He indicated to Amy that they should stay low for the moment. The figure had disappeared from view, but could be anywhere.
After a minute or so, he looked up. He could neither see nor hear anybody. He raised himself up slightly, and turned round to Amy. He indicated to her to move on. He turned back to carry on.
How the figure got there, Tom had no idea; but six feet in front of them stood a man, dressed in black boots, trousers and matching roll neck sweater. He was carrying a rifle.
Chapter Forty-Five
Tom froze as he looked up at the man. Amy gasped.
The sniper indicated for them to get up. Silently, Tom and Amy both stood up.
‘It’s okay,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m not after you two. I don’t think so anyway. Who are you?’
‘They killed my wife. My ex-wife,’ Tom said ‘We were trying to find out what happened. We found out about this place, and got caught.’
‘That was clever,’ the sniper said. ‘Getting caught I mean. How many of them are there here altogether? I’ve seen Vine and Carter, and Merchant.’
Tom ran his hand through his hair and scratched the back of his head. ‘Just those three. Look: what’s going on? We know -’
‘Later,’ the sniper said. ‘I’ve got a rabid dog to put down.’
Adjusting his rifle, he turned and walked off. He seemed to know his way around this type of terrain, and made little or no sound as he made his way through the woods. Tom and Amy glanced at each other. They both had the same idea, and followed him.
‘Excuse me,’ said Amy. Tom looked at her, bemused.
He paused and turned round. ‘What is it?’
‘It’s just that you look familiar,’ she said. ‘Have I seen you somewhere before?’
He stared at her, trying to place her. ‘I don’t know you,’ he said. ‘But my name’s Sykes. John Sykes. I’m Mr Fleming’s driver. Was, at any rate. Until those bastards saw to him.’
‘That’s where I’ve seen you,’ she said. ‘I work at CitiMarket.’
Sykes chuckled. ‘Used to, you mean. Come on; I’ll escort you to the gate,’ he said as he turned and carried on walking. ‘I suggest you get the hell out.’
They reached the end of the driveway and the gate, which was now open. A silver Land Rover, the one they had seen earlier, was parked across the gateway.
‘Go on,’ Sykes said. ‘Get out.’
‘But - but our car’s over in that direction,’ Tom said. ‘It’ll only take me -’
‘Fuck the car. Just go. Go on.’
Tom looked down at Amy, nodded and took her hand. He was just about to lead her round the Land Rover, when they heard the sound of another car on the gravel. Tom spun round and saw the Chrysler heading towards them. They could make out Merchant at the steering wheel.
Saying nothing, Sykes stood in the middle of the driveway and aimed his rifle. He fired, and the car veered off the driveway into the woodlands, coming to rest against a tree. Sykes set off towards the Chrysler. The driver’s door flew open and Ashley Merchant staggered out. She had a trickle of blood running down her forehead.
‘I knew it was you,’ she spat at Sykes. ‘What the fuck do you want?’
‘I want you,’ he replied.
‘Me? Why?’
‘Because of Mr Fleming.’
‘Because of him?’ she asked, leaning on the Chrysler bonnet. ‘What was he to you?’
‘He was good to me, that’s what.’
‘Bullshit. You hated him, like the rest of us.’
‘No. Sure, he was a pain in the arse to work for. An ungrateful bastard. But - well, you’d never understand the concept of loyalty would you?’
‘Loyalty? Is that what all this is about?’
Sykes laughed. ‘That just shows how little you know about me, despite all your screening and investigations.’
Her nostrils flared. ‘All I know - all I need to know - is that you’re a pathetic loser. Just a jumped up little chauffeur.’
‘Yeah, and you’re a rug-munching old dyke.’
Sykes aimed the rifle and before Merchant could react, fired. The top of her head exploded, a fine mist of blood, tissue and bone spraying the Chrysler windscreen. Her lifeless body collapsed in the bushes in front of the car.
Amy gasped. Tom just stood there, open-mouthed. Sykes turned to them. ‘You still here?’ he asked.
Tom opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
Sykes looked at his watch. ‘Right. You’ve got two minutes. What do you want to know?’
‘What - what’s all this about? The money, all this stuff…’
‘Okay. Condensed version. Fleming’s market research company was - partly at any rate - the front for a massive counterfeiting operation. Fleming’s got - had - a lot of contacts in Europe. Some straight, some not. I don’t know how the thing got started; it was in full swing when I joined. After I had worked for Fleming for a year, he finally confided in me. Though there was a lot he didn’t tell me.’
‘Is - is it all printed here?’ Tom asked.
‘Fuck, no. All the printing’s done somewhere in Europe - Amsterdam, I think - and shipped over here to Felixstowe. Then transported to either here, or another place in London.’
‘Is that -?’
‘Yeah; it’s the one the Khan guy found out about. As well as this place too, I assume. When it hit the fan, everything got moved here for storage.’
‘So the presses aren’t here?’
‘No. In any case, things have moved on from the traditional metal plates and printing equipment.’
>
‘Done digitally, I assume?’
‘No idea. Nothing to do with me. Although Fleming did tell me as detection methods become more sophisticated, so do they. It’s not like putting a note on your scanner: if you set it to its highest resolution - 2400 DPI - you’ll get a 10 Mb file on your hard disk to print, and the note’ll look okay, but won’t stand up to heavy scrutiny. That’s what Mr Fleming told me once. Depending on what the currency is, you have to get the paper right, and the ink type. Like I said, not my department. I just drove Fleming about.’
‘What currencies? We saw dollars, Euros and pounds.’
‘Mainly, yes. The US dollars aren’t for the States though; their detection stuff is too sophisticated, as are their Customs. No, that stuff goes to mainly African countries.’
‘And why all this?’ Tom indicated over to Merchant’s body.
‘Because they killed Fleming. He was a miserable son of a bitch to work for. But I owed him. I used to be in the SAS, but was invalided out, with no qualifications, or skills. Except this,’ he added, holding up his rifle.
‘I was broke and he gave me the job. Rent free place to crash. Sure, it was for his convenience mainly - so I was close to hand - but I’d be on the streets otherwise. So, I felt I owed him some loyalty. There was no way those pieces of shit were going to get away with what they did.’
He checked his watch again. ‘Time’s up. I’m going to give it an hour, then call the police. I’d suggest you make sure you’re well away.’
‘Our car?’ Tom said hesitantly.
‘I’m still going to give it only an hour. So you’d better be quick.’
‘Thanks.’ Tom took Amy’s hand and made for where they had left the car.’
‘Hey,’ Sykes called back. Tom turned round.
‘You said they killed your wife.’
‘My ex-wife.’
‘Well, now she can rest in peace.’
Tom nodded. ‘What about you?’ he asked. ‘Where does all this leave you?’
‘Don’t worry about me. I’ll be long gone by the time the cops arrive. The late Sebastian Fleming’s driver will never be traced. Another skill of mine. Now get.’
