by Nick Oldham
‘ Yes.’
Then August felt the cold barrels of the gun pushed into his neck, just below his hairline. He wanted to be sick. He swallowed something that tasted of vomit.
The hessian sack was yanked off his head and he lay there face down, nose to the ground, shivering with fright. Before he could stop them, his eyes had flickered open for a nanosecond, and he nearly whined in terror. But no one seemed to have noticed. He squeezed them firmly shut, enclosing and sealing the memory of that face…
There was a cough, a clearing of the throat, the shuffle of feet. ‘So, Mr August, what did you think of the video? Good, wasn’t it? Very classy. Make a fortune on the porn market, that.’
‘ What do you want?’ said August tightly. He wasn’t sure how much more he could handle.
‘ Straight to the point,’ said the voice. ‘I like that. All right, we’ll play it your way. There’s something you possess that we want. Knowledge. You’re a Chief Constable. You know many things — and what you don’t know, you can find out.’
‘ I don’t know anything,’ August was almost in tears.
‘ But you do, you do,’ the man assured him.
‘ What?’
‘ A man is presently at court facing murder charges. He will soon be convicted. A man called Hinksman.’
August groaned. ‘So? I can’t stop that.’
‘ I know — and he’ll be convicted. Stupid bastard deserves to be
… However, that doesn’t concern us. He’ll be taken by police escort from Lancaster to another prison, won’t he? Probably Strangeways.’
August did not respond. He waited for the bombshell.
‘ What I want you to do is tell me when the escort will be setting off from Lancaster, how many of them are armed and with what sort of weapons… you know, that sort of thing. But I want you to do something else for me as well.’
‘ What?’ said August, deep in a nightmare.
‘ Ensure that the convoy takes a particular route — one which I will supply to you. There — simple, isn’t it?’
‘ But why?’
The man jabbed the shotgun roughly into the back of August’s neck. ‘Why d’you fuckin’ think?’
Joe Kovaks had made his first visit to Laura at seven-thirty in the morning. He had got home just in time to run Chrissy to the hospital for ten. By the time he hit the sack an hour later he was exhausted, with only four hours to sleep before getting up and collecting Chrissy. He was due back on duty at six, when he planned to ditch Tommo, his partner, and go straight to see Laura and get his plan underway.
He felt excited. Corelli’s time was ticking away.
Laura looked 100 per cent better that evening — in other words, marginally better than a corpse.
Kovaks sat on the stool next to the bed and placed a bag of mixed fresh fruit on the cabinet.
She gave him a weak smile, said ‘Hi,’ then closed her eyes. The brush with death had taken its toll.
‘ We need to get Corelli,’ Kovaks said softly. ‘How many more lives will he destroy?’ He spoke in a low, hypnotic voice. He knew she was susceptible right now. This was the time to strike, to get into her mind and influence her way of thinking. He was being a ruthless bastard and he knew it. ‘Look at what he’s done to you and Whisper. He killed Whisper, not me, Laura. He had him knifed to death and his tongue cut out because he had the courage to talk to me. And then he made you suffer. He’d been making you suffer anyway. Using you as a source of income. Making you use your body and your mouth. How many men did you fuck, Laura? One hundred? Ten thousand? How man men did you suck off? Twenty thousand? He abused you, destroyed you, forced you onto drugs so that you’d be dependent on him for everything — money, junk, somewhere to live. I know you did it for the baby, I know it was the only way. I’m not judging you, honey. All I’m doing is stating facts, Laura… and then what happened? When he’d had enough of you, he kicked you out onto the streets, out of your home. The cunt! Not much of a home, I know but it was your place nevertheless.’
She began to cry softly, eyes closed in shame. Kovaks was bang on target. He couldn’t stop a triumphant grin from spreading across his face. This might be easier than he’d feared.
‘ And you lost everything. The baby. Whisper. Your self-respect.’ He was relentless, driving it home. ‘And you almost lost your life, like he’s deprived thousands of others of theirs. While he lives like a king! He doesn’t do drugs. He’s a fucking billionaire! Owns houses, cars, boats, planes, businesses… all on the back of people’s suffering. We need to do something about him, Laura. We need to stop him. You and me. You and me. If we pool what we know, I’m sure we can do it.’
‘ How?’ she sobbed. ‘We can’t touch him.’
‘ I don’t know,’ said Kovaks. He shook his head. ‘But we can think of something.’
‘ I want my baby back,’ she cried. ‘That’s what I want.’ Her mouth twisted grotesquely as she cried. She buried her head in a pillow. ‘I miss her so much.’
Kovaks laid a hand on her bony shoulder.
‘ It’s OK Laura. You’ve got me now. You can depend on me. I’m an FBI agent, aren’t I? I can pull strings. I can get her back for you. I’m sure I can. Don’t worry, but you must promise to help me. We must get Corelli once and for all. You and me, Laura. You and me.’ His voice was hypnotic.
‘ I need my junk too,’ she said.
‘ That’s OK, I can get you anything you need.’
‘ But how are we going to get him?’
‘ I don’t know yet,’ he said.
But he had a good idea.
A further two weeks of witnesses giving evidence drove the trial into its fifth week. Much of the testimony was presented by experts — scientists, doctors etc. — and the officers who conducted the interviews with Hinksman. It was basically unchallenged by the defence. Graham put up a spirited performance, but he was rowing up Shit Creek with only his hands for paddles.
The last witness stepped down from the box at 3 p.m. on the Friday of the fifth week and the trial was adjourned for the weekend.
On the Monday of the sixth week Graham began his final speech for the defence. It lasted two days — two days in which he tried valiantly to discredit the prosecution evidence. He was very convincing, eloquent and believable — but on the whole he was fighting a lost cause; however, as he was being paid so well and had such a dangerous client, he tried his best.
He did have a good case to rubbish Henry Christie’s evidence, though. Despite the supporting forensic and ballistic evidence, Henry’s testimony was unsafe, he insisted. He referred to a famous stated case — R v Turnbull — which dealt with the subject of identification and the guidelines which the police should follow. Most of Henry’s evidence did not follow these guidelines; therefore, Graham submitted, Hinksman should be found not guilty of the murders in the alley.
On Wednesday the Judge began her careful summing up. This lasted until the Friday and was fascinating to listen to. It was as though she was telling a story around a campfire. She enthralled everyone with her turn of phrase and clear voice. She made detailed reference to Henry’s evidence and supported Graham’s submission. She told the jury that they must be very sure that Detective-Sergeant Christie’s evidence was sound. Any doubt and they must not convict.
Henry could only agree with her conclusion from a professional point of view. Personally he was extremely pissed off about it. But then again, he mused, she hadn’t told them not to convict…
However, she more or less directed the jury to convict on all the other counts.
The twelve good and true men and women then retired to consider their verdicts. By five o’clock they had not got anywhere. They had begun a process which was to last five days. Over this period they were taken to a secret location — an hotel on the outskirts of Lancaster where they were guarded by armed police and dog-handlers. The Judge instructed them to remain there until they reached their verdicts. Only then could they return to court.
<
br /> Late that Friday night, the jury retired to their respective bedrooms at the hotel to get a good night’s sleep before continuing with their task the following morning.
At 6 p.m. in Miami, five hours behind British time, Sue finished her work for the day at the FBI building, collected a couple of personal belongings from her desk and made ready to go home.
She was extremely bored with the task now allotted to her — a fraud enquiry which had been ongoing for two years and which the Bureau had been unable to crack. For the last two months she had been combing balance sheets, profit and loss accounts, bank transfers and private bank accounts until figures had been coming out of her ears, but at least she had made a breakthrough. She was fairly sure how the fraud was being perpetrated, but uncertain how it could be proved in court.
Although pleased by the progress, she was actually bored rigid with the case. The short time she’d spent teamed up with Joe Kovaks and the Corelli Unit had been very exciting and had given her a look over the fence, where the grass was definitely greener. She longed to get back onto organised crime where the baddies pulled guns out, not pens, and it was blood that was spilled, not ink.
And she missed Joe.
After an unsteady start, to say the least, she and he had become good friends. She had managed to maintain some contact with him when she’d been transferred, but it had dwindled and she hadn’t seen him for almost four weeks now. It made her sad, but she knew he was completely immersed in Corelli, especially after the tragedy with Chrissy.
As Sue stepped into the elevator, one other person was already inside, finger on the Door Open button.
Oh God, she thought. I do not like this guy. He gives me the creeps. However, she steeled herself and said, ‘Hello, Mr Ritter,’ pleasantly.
‘ Hello, Sue,’ he said. ‘Ground or basement?’
‘ Basement, please. My car’s down there.’
‘ Mine too.’ He smiled ingratiatingly and pressed the button. The doors closed slowly with a sinister hiss and the elevator descended.
Sue stared at the doors.
Ritter lounged against the side of the elevator, looking at her. Bitch, he thought. You fucking know, don’t you?
‘ Any thing planned for the weekend,’ he asked her.
‘ No, not really. Some shopping, maybe. Catch a movie, that sort of thing. ‘
‘ Not going to Bayside, by any chance?’ He laughed nervously.
Now why ask that? She recalled seeing him there once and him denying it, but that was months ago. Obviously it meant something to him — probably out meeting some woman other than his wife — but so what? He wanted to deny it, let him deny it.
‘ Spending some time with your fiance — Damian, isn’t it, from Fingerprints?’
‘ No, he’s away,’ she said. ‘Gone to see his mother for a few days. I’ll have a nice weekend all alone.’ She-smiled at Ritter, wishing he’d shut up but not wishing to be impolite.
Fortunately the elevator stopped on the second floor and two secretaries got in. They were going to the basement, too. Sue was relieved. She exhaled a long breath.
At the basement Ritter stood by the elevator door, finger on the button, and allowed the three women to walk out ahead of him. The secretaries peeled off to the left. Sue walked straight on towards the car park.
If she turns round, Ritter thought, she knows.
Sue couldn’t help herself. She glanced quickly round and saw Ritter still in the elevator, watching her. Weirdo. She increased her pace. Why the hell did I tell him I was alone this weekend, she asked herself. She had an uneasy feeling.
Ritter pressed the button which would take the elevator to the administration floor.
In the general office Ritter managed to collar one of the clerks before she left. Ritter knew she dealt with annual leave.
‘ Have you got a moment?’ he asked.
‘ Yeah, sure, what is it?’
‘ I left a fingerprint indent with one of the experts downstairs, a guy called Damian Faber. I’ve been trying to chase him up today for a result. Turns out he’s on leave. I need to speak to him pretty urgently about it. Is there any chance you can get into your computer records and see if he’s left an address where he can be contacted? I’d really appreciate it.’
‘ Yeah, sure, no problem. Won’t take but a minute.’
She sat down by a computer terminal, switched the machine on and tapped quickly into the computerised leave records.
‘ Here we are.’ She leaned sideways to allow Ritter to see the screen..
‘ Mother’s address in Clearwater,’ said Ritter. ‘No phone number. Damn!’ He jotted down the details, which also included Damian’s home address and phone number. ‘I am very much obliged to you,’ he said to the clerk. ‘Looks like I’ll have to send the local cops round to roust him.’
‘ Looks like,’ she said, logging out and switching off. She pulled on her coat and hurried out of the office, late for her date.
Ritter phoned Damian’s home number. The answering machine clicked in.
‘ Excellent,’ said Ritter to himself with a dangerous smile. ‘He ain’t there, so he must still be at Mommy’s.’
It was going to be a short, violent weekend for Agent Fat Bitch.
Damian had decided to surprise Sue.
He’d taken a few days’ leave in order to visit his mother in Clearwater because she claimed to be seriously ill and close to death. Seriously mad, Damian thought as he drove east along Highway 41 towards Miami and home in his battered Chevvy.
Two days with her had driven him nuts. He had originally planned to stay until Sunday, but her crazy ways decided him to return early, surprise Sue and have a weekend of debauchery.
The thought of her body — a body he had come to love even though she was immense — spurred him to press down a touch more on the gas pedal. The car surged ahead and at the same time he experienced a pleasant sensation at his groin. He reached forwards and turned the volume of the radio up a touch as the Stones cut into Honky Tonk Women.
The chimes on the front door of the apartment tinkled. Sue pulled on her thin pink cotton dressing-gown, the one Damian liked — especially when she was damp and it clung to her — and trotted happily to answer it. She peered through the spy hole and stepped back, puzzled but unafraid.
She unlocked and opened the door. ‘Mr Ritter,’ she said. It was more of a question.
‘ Hello, Sue.’
‘ What can I do for you?’
‘ I think we need to talk.’
‘ About what?’ She felt suddenly vulnerable and tugged the belt on her gown tighter.
‘ I actually think you know,’ Ritter said, raising his eyebrows. ‘May I come in? We can hardly conduct a civilised conversation out here, now can we?’
Reluctantly she allowed him in, but only because he was an FBI agent and wouldn’t be foolish enough to try anything stupid. He sidled slowly past her into the living room, brushing his arm against her breasts.
‘ Nice place you have here,’ he commented. He went to the kitchen, then the bedroom and looked into both. ‘Nice bed. I’ll bet you and Damian do some megafuck work on that.’
Sue’s mouth dropped open. She couldn’t quite believe what she’d just heard.
‘ What can I do for you, Mr Ritter?’ she said coldly, deciding to ignore it, just in case she’d misheard.
He spun round from the bedroom door and pointed at her. ‘What can you do for me? First of all you can sit down.’
Something about the way he said those words made Sue’s legs go weak. There was some sort of trouble brewing here. ‘I’d rather stand. This is my home — I’ll do as I like. And I’m asking you to leave. Goodbye, Mr Ritter.’
He covered the space between them in a couple of strides, moving so fast that Sue was unable to defend herself from the powerful blow that sent her spiralling backwards onto the couch. It had been a well timed, well-connected slap — with all his might behind it.
She sat up, shaking
her head. ‘Damian,’ she called out. ‘Get in here!’
Ritter laughed. ‘Maybe when he comes back from Mommy’s. You’re all alone, Sue. I know these things. I check — I’m a pro.’
‘ You’re a madman,’ she hissed. She was sure her jaw was broken. She started to clamber to her feet, intent on hitting back, but she was too slow. Where was Damian?
Ritter grabbed her hair and rammed her face down onto his up-thrusting knee. Her nose burst with a distinct crack and he tossed her back onto the couch.
‘ You really are obscene,’ he said, standing over her, looking dispassionately down at her exposed body: her gown, covered in blood, had sagged open and ridden up.
But Sue was past modesty. She had never felt such incredible pain before. She whimpered like a kitten: ‘What do you want?’
He smiled benevolently. ‘That day at Bayside — why were you there? Were you watching me, seeing who I was meeting? Is that why you were there?’ His questions were relentless.
‘ I was having a picnic,’ said Sue.
‘ Liar!’ His foot lashed out and he kicked her shins hard. She screamed in pain. ‘Now — why were you there?’
‘ Having a picnic… boyfriend…’
Oh God Damian, where are you? Come to my rescue.
‘ You’ve been following me, haven’t you? Building up a dossier. Who I meet, who I speak to. The boat I own — do you know about that too? What about my condo? Have you checked my bank accounts? I bet you have, you accountancy cunt. You know all about me and Corelli, don’t you?’
‘ No, no, no,’ she cried desperately. ‘You’re wrong, wrong. Oh, please Damian, help me.’
‘ He won’t help you,’ sneered Ritter. ‘He’s miles away, with Mommy. So, who else knows all this?’ he demanded.
‘ No one… you’re insane.’
