‘It’s not her! It’s me you want. Me! Not her.’ She ran to the driver’s door, dragging it open. ‘It’s me,’ she yelled again.
There was no way she could grab that knife. One tiny error and she herself would drive it into Flavia’s throat.
‘Vladi,’ she tried, ‘I’m the one who has Natasha. I’m the one you saw. I’m Inspector Kate Power.’ She fumbled out her ID. ‘Let this woman go and take me instead.’
Yes, he was interested. His eyes left Flavia and focused on her.
But the knife still hovered just a millimetre from the vulnerable flesh. By now another man was wrestling with something on the rear wing. She saw a lighter at the ready.
‘Tell him, Flavia. For God’s sake tell him.’ Surely there’d be help soon? The pounding in her ears cut out all other noise. She dared not turn to see. She had to keep her eyes locked into this man’s. Mustn’t flinch. Mustn’t drop them.
At last he spoke. ‘Open the tank. Open the petrol tank, woman!’
Jesus, his mate was going to torch the car and take them all up?
‘I don’t know how! I don’t know how!’ Flavia wailed. ‘My husband always—’
The knife nicked her throat. ‘Do it!’
‘I can’t! My husband always—’
Vladi pressed the knife harder. ‘You do it,’ he told Kate.
She took a deep breath. She’d no idea either—was it the ignition keys he needed or an internal release catch?—but wasn’t about to tell him that. Her boot lock was down by the handbrake. Perhaps the release catch might be there. She must act as if it were. Leaning in, so close to Flavia she could smell fresh urine, she pointed. ‘There. Down by your knee.’ And she grabbed the wrist with the knife.
Chapter 25
To everyone else it must have seemed quite reasonable to put rescuer and rescued into the same ambulance. Kate would
probably have done the same. She certainly wouldn’t argue that she should be there: there was suspiciously little movement in a couple of the fingers on her left hand. She hadn’t been quite quick enough. The knife had probably sliced a tendon or two: yes, she could say it to herself quite calmly. They’d be able to operate, wouldn’t they? And it wasn’t as though she was afraid of anaesthesia or a bit of post-operative pain. Her two knee operations had proved that.
As for Flavia, she’d been shocked at first into silence, but had now hitched herself up on to her elbow, telling all who might be interested—and there was no doubt that both paramedics were—that Kate’s injuries were the wrath of a just God, who had punished an adulterous sinner. It might have been nice to engage her in a theological discussion as to whether Kate was in fact an adulteress, since she wasn’t married, but that would have pointed out quite clearly the extent of Graham’s sins. Graham, in an agony of self-reproach, would probably have taken Flavia’s side, wouldn’t he? Had he been capable of self-reproach: imagine a grown man agreeing to act as’ he had done—to invite his ex-mistress out so that his wife could publicly humiliate her.
So she lay quietly, watching the blood seep through the dressing and imagining what they’d be doing back in St Paul’s Square. She’d heard the armed-response unit arrive, and had seen Vladi taken rather breathlessly into custody by Graham Harvey. Well, let him take the glory for the collar: it might make up for some of the domestic stick he would have to endure for many weeks yet. She’d no idea how many accomplices they’d picked up, though there’d definitely been the crash of metal against metal—someone’s attempt at a getaway foiled, she hoped. Well, she’d heard the car start, and she’d seen the man by the petrol tank and—
‘Next time you set your sights on a married man…’ Flavia began again.
Perhaps it was reaction that made her so garrulous: even when she was safely separated from Kate, though in an adjacent curtained cubicle, Flavia kept up her chorus of abuse. At last the young registrar treating Kate—was she Malaysian?—touched her lips and ducked her head round the curtain
‘Madam,’ Kate heard, ‘do you not realise that you owe your life to this lady whom you are abusing? Please be quiet, or I shall have you moved back to the waiting room.’
She ducked back. ‘There. This is a bad injury, Inspector. At least two tendons severed, and some other tissue damage.’
‘I thought as much,’ she said, as phlegmatically as she could. ‘What’s the prognosis?’
Dr Chin avoided her eye. ‘There are two schools of thought. The one this hospital favours is to wait for the residual damage to heal, in the hope that the tendons—it’s a clean cut, after all—will reattach themselves.’
‘And the other?’
‘Immediate surgery. But we—’
A quick footstep outside brought a silly grin to Kate’s face. He was here at last.
‘Doctor,’ Rod said, ‘forgive my interruption, but I had to see my officer.’ He flipped open his ID. ‘Superintendent Rod Neville. Do you know a Mr Rhodes?’
Dr Chin looked as taken aback as Kate felt. But, then, she hadn’t been expecting endearments and tender words ‘The best orthopaedic surgeon in the Midlands for hand injuries.’
‘He’s a personal friend of mine. If you’re in any doubt, any at all, phone him and ask for his opinion’
‘I think it will coincide with mine, Superintendent—that immediate surgery is the best option. And if he is available, I would suggest you ask him to do it Otherwise, your officer may lose the use of those fingers for ever.’
‘Is this Rhodes guy really a personal friend?’ Kate enquired, interested despite the pre-med. She’d been transferred by ambulance, complete, to her chagrin, with flashing light, to another NHS hospital and was awaiting the great man’s attentions
‘Not yet. But a buddy of Pat the Path—it was he who said whom to mention; You know you’re likely to get a commendation, don’t you?’
‘So long as I’m home for Christmas, you can give it to Flavia It was she who flushed Chummy out, after all.’
‘Pity Harvey’s likely to face a disciplinary—apparently that bloody TV programme included panoramic shots that took in his car. After all Oxnard said about going away’ And he lets his bloody car appear on TV’ Stupid bugger’
It took a lot to rattle Rod into swearing She squeezed his hand.
‘As for being home for Christmas, young lady, the NHS is short of beds You’ll probably be out in time for dinner tonight and back to work tomorrow. No I’m joking! Ah, it looks as if they’re coming to take you down to theatre…’
Though she had been home for dinner—how had Rod wangled time off to cook it?—she wasn’t back at work on Tuesday. Even she could see that in her unaccountably wobbly state she wouldn’t be any use. In any case, she had to be debriefed both by her colleagues from the Police Complaints Authority, should Flavia wish to moan about the scratch on her neck, and by a psychotherapist, to make sure the chances of post-traumatic stress were limited. She was happy with that: after all, she’d experienced, both at first hand and in others, the effects that untreated stress could have. But as soon as she learnt that there was some trouble at Scala House she declared that an immediate return to health was called for and was up and about on Thursday, ready-ish for action.
‘You can’t drive, Kate, and that’s flat,’ Rod declared, as. he eased a sleeve over the boxing glove of dressing for her. ‘And until we sort this Asian stabbing I can’t always be around to chauffeur you.’
‘That woman in Pygmalion, what did she say? I’ll take a bloody cab? Well, then.’
‘That’s possible. Now things are getting tidied up. But there are still people out there whom we’ve not mopped up yet—and you made no secret of who and what you were and what your involvement was. So I’d say that visiting Worksop Road was out and Scala House personnel ought to come to you, not vice versa. There. Is that comfortable?’
‘Fine.’ Even if she’d be glad of the morning’s painkillers now the ordeal of dressing was over.
He looked at her sternly. ‘How fine?’
/>
‘Fine.’
‘You’re entitled to be weepy, sweetheart.’
‘I don’t want to be weepy. Not with Howard waiting for his breakfast.’ She headed for the bedroom door.
He didn’t move. ‘Dusty Rhodes is absolutely positive everything will heal properly. Positive, Kate.’
‘So long as I’m a good girl and rest it now and do my physio as and when.’ Despite herself, her voice still wasn’t as steady as she’d have liked.
‘What’s really worrying you?’ He abandoned bracing for tender, reducing her instantly to tears.
‘Christmas and shopping and cards and everything. And it was meant to be our first Christmas together.’
‘Without a single sprig of mistletoe, it’ll still be our first Christmas. And not—I know what you’re afraid of—at my mother’s, because I know how helpless she makes you feel. She knows herself. That’s why she hasn’t been round this week. But she wants to take you out: there’s an antiques fair at Stafford starting tomorrow and continuing over the weekend. Would you like to go?’
‘If you’re not going to be around…’ She hated weekends on her own, always had. ‘If she can put up with an invalid.’ She sat down on the bed, as if her knees wanted to show just how useless she was.
‘I’m sure she can. But not for Christmas. I have plans for Christmas, which I shall keep to myself for a while.’
Her stomach somersaulted. ‘But we agreed—Aunt Cassie.’
‘Will be visited as usual. Bet you can’t make porridge one-handed.’
‘Of course I can. Though why you won’t buy sliced bread for our morning toast I’ll never know.’ Yes, grumpy was better than tearful, as she was sure Rod had predicted. ‘And while the damned toast burns you and Howard can tell me what Vladi’s been saying.’
‘The only reason I’ve not told you anything is because there’s nothing to damn well tell. He’s still silent. Schtum. Not talking. After all this time…’
Her first visitor that morning was Dave Bush, lurking behind a huge bunch of flowers set in a basket. ‘So you don’t have to worry about trimming stems or vases or anything,’ he said. ‘Jill Todd insisted. We all signed the note, but she put an extra one in. Here.’
Kate removed both notes, but could open neither.
‘Can I help?’
She passed him the tiny florist’s envelope: she had a feeling that Jill’s might refer to the missing letter and possibly a phone call to Flavia. Whatever she’d said, it could wait.
‘What’s the news from the nick?’ she asked, filling the kettle and swearing when she couldn’t turn off the tap.
‘Oh, Ronnie’s totally pissed off because the paperwork still hasn’t come through for her to be acting sergeant.’
‘That’s disgusting. She’s doing the work, she deserves the pay—not to mention the line on her CV. I’ll get on the phone as soon as you’ve gone—which is not an invitation for you to leave now.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Absolutely—who’d carry the tray through into the living-room?’
‘If you’re sure…’
‘Dave, just relax. You’re as jumpy as when we met over the photocopier. Just because I’ve got a mitt like a melon doesn’t mean I’m not me.’
Still awkward, he followed her through, setting the tray on the table she pointed to.
‘I bet the place is awash with gossip about how we picked up Vladi,’ she said, with spurious casualness. ‘It’s no secret that Graham Harvey’s wife’s a bit of an oddball, Dave—and she got it into her head that I was leading her husband from the paths of righteousness We did—once—have feelings for each other but, believe me, they’re all in the past. Anyway, she attracted the attentions of Vladi, the pimp of that poor girl we rescued—’
‘I still don’t understand how he should get on to her. Or you, to be honest.’
‘Remember when Graham gave me a lift to Ladywood nick? They must have got some sort of 1u me when they started tailing Madame Constantinou I’d been careful, Meg had been careful, but Madame C uses the same taxi service every day. So they get a tail on her, and see who she’s meeting. It looks horribly as though they got on to me—’
‘Despite all your cloak-and-dagger stuff ‘
‘Quite They’re good, these bastards. Very good. No wonder half the police forces in the western world are worried about them. So they see me leave Scala House with a. man and they, tail him. I thought they hadn’t seen me property, and perhaps they hadn’t, if they thought Flavia was me. Or maybe they simply thought that since Flavia was driving Graham’s car they might as well take her out anyway.’
‘In any case, they’d logged the DCI’s car reg. And then, of course, there was all that stuff on TV about that weird church of theirs and their new bells and they took those shots of the car park. They must have seen his car and—Jesus!’
‘Not very bright of DCI Harvey, I agree, not to take official advice and make himself scarce to invisible, in whichever order. But all’s well that ends well, Dave. We’ve got the prime movers in a very nasty ring.’ It took her a second to work out why he groaned. She pulled a face. ‘Bringing children into the country and—’
‘But with due respect, ma—’
‘Kate in my own living-room, if you don’t mind.’
‘Kate. But with due respect, all isn’t well. The word is that Vladi’s still not talking. And look at you.’ He nodded at her hand.
‘That’ll be OK. We all have to take risks, David—you know that as well as I do.’ She was about to point out that Neil Drew had taken a knife off a lout the night Phil Bates had disappeared but before she could speak he said, ‘And the other thing—and this is what’s really getting to everyone, I have to tell you, Kate—is that we had all this top brass swanning around after a load of whores and the first sign they’ve got that the end is in sight they all bugger off. But the end isn’t in sight. No one seems any closer to pinning Phil’s murder on Vladi. Do they? You know he’s categorically denied it? The only thing he’s said.’
‘I didn’t.’
‘I thought not. Well, they wouldn’t want to worry you while you were sick.’
‘Anything else I should know?’
He grimaced. ‘DCI Smith’s been making Madame Thingy’s life hell. He’s positive she’s the mole.’
‘Mole? Oh, Mr Choi’s person who isn’t what he seems! Why the wretched man pretends to be an oracle and won’t spell things out… Presumably you’ve tried to ask him what he meant?’
Dave nodded.
She thought again of the comparative lightness of the damage Madame Constantinou had suffered compared with that inflicted on Joe. Best say nothing.
‘And I’ve been stood down—back to normal duties.’
She shook her head. ‘Why? I thought there was something odd about your bringing the flowers—I’m just so dim ideas come and go without giving me time to make sense of them.’
‘That’ll be the shock and the anaesthetic,’ he said kindly. ‘They say it’s at least a week before it’s clear of the system. No, we’re so short at Scala House that Oxnard said Zayn and I ought to be released to normal duties if Smith was so sure everything was sorted…’
‘Sorted? Like hell it’s sorted! They’re supposed to be investigating Phil Bates’s death, and I haven’t heard anything that ties it in with the Albanians, nothing that’s not circumstantial at best.’ She took a breath. ‘Anything else I should know about?’.
‘Neil Drew’s got his knickers in a twist over his Christmas childcare. Seems he’d done some sort of a deal with Phil about swapping shifts, and now there’s no Phil…’
‘Tell Neil I’ll sort it the moment I get back. Under a lot of pressure, isn’t he? But, then, we all are. How’s your Chinese classes?’
‘I’ve got an exam tonight—oh, nothing serious. Just a Christmas test. But that reminds me. Mr Choi’s been on about coming to see you. I said protocol didn’t allow him to. make a home visit, so he gave me this for yo
u.’ He produced an expensive envelope.
She could make out her name in beautiful tiny letters. ‘Could you do the honours, Dave? And then pour the coffee, for goodness’ sake—it’ll be stewed to death.’
As he poured, she read. Mr Choi would be enchanted if she would join him for lunch as soon as she was well enough. If Dave couldn’t extract from him a meaning to his gnomic call about not all being what it seemed, perhaps it was time for her to press him for elucidation. To see what a few feminine wiles could do. Always assuming she could dredge up a few.
Lunch was fixed for the following day. Enlightenment could wait till she’d had her hair done.
‘Are you sure you need me, gaffer?’ Dave obviously felt safer with a title now he’d left her home and was driving her in a quasi-official capacity.
‘Absolutely. And Mr Choi seemed pleased that you’d be accompanying me Tell me, Dave, does etiquette demand that we offer him a gift to thank him for his hospitality?’
‘It’s on the back seat, gaffer, gift-wrapped A dictionary of slang and idiom’
‘You’ll take the money out of petty cash?’
‘I already have.’
‘Thank God for that.’
‘For what?’
‘A sign of feet of clay. I was afraid you were turning into Jeeves.’
‘I like a little politeness myself,’ he conceded ‘I don’t have to eat with you, you know.’
‘Oh, yes, you do. But at one point, Dave, I want you to go and powder your nose, in case there’s anything he’ll only say to me alone. And I shall return the compliment, in case he’d rather impart material to someone he knows and trusts.’
‘Sounds good to me, gaffer. Goodness, looks as if we’re about to be valet-parked.’
‘At this time of year, I wouldn’t look a parking spot in the mouth.’
Power Shift Page 24
