by Lenny Brando
Kapoor shook her head at the audacity. “I can't tell you that.”
“He fits the profile, and his brother died. You see, I interviewed Cole yesterday about the reaction to the Whitechapel attack. He apologised to Alice during the interview. Came across as magnanimous.”
“What exactly are you trying to ask me?” Kapoor scribbled on her pad.
“Um, I think I have my answer.”
“You’re just fishing. Off the record?”
“Sure.”
That didn’t satisfy Kapoor. “Say it.”
“All right. Off the record.”
“I can't rule Cole out as a suspect in the Madsen assault, but I have nothing to say he did it either. We’re running checks on mobile phones to see if anyone on our list was in the Portobello area on the night of the assault. But that’s only one of er, many lines of enquiry.”
“Will you let me know if Cole’s number shows?”
“No.”
“But would he be a threat to me?”
Kapoor paused and thought. “Why would he?”
“Because I can put him in touch with Alice?”
“I don’t think you’re in any danger from him, however, don't volunteer any information on Alice to him.”
“Um... Okay.”
“Look, I’m not saying Cole is dangerous or he's the guy who broke into Alice’s. Just saying be careful.”
“But you're not saying he isn’t either?”
“How do you contact Cole?”
“Phone.”
“What’s his number? I’ll check it’s the same as the one we have.”
Laura reeled off a number and Kapoor compared it with the one on file. “Yes. It matches.”
“Sorry I couldn't help.”
“Look Laura, I’ll update you on Cole provided you do likewise. When is this interview?”
“Today or tomorrow.”
“Put him under pressure, but don't do anything stupid. You’ll have a crew with you, right?”
“That sounds like he is a suspect. Should I cancel the interview?”
“No. I didn’t say that.” Kapoor scratched her ear. “You’re a smart woman. Call me when you've done the interview.”
118
Before Cole returned to the florists, he scrolled through his contacts for Alice’s mobile number. The possibility she might have changed it fazed him for a moment, but Captagon confidence had kicked in, and he thumbed a text to her.
Hi! Sheena from Buds and Roses on Portobello Road has a gorgeous handmade flower arrangement for you. Delivery Dave will bring it to your door this morning. Let us know if there is a good time? Thanks and we hope you love your blooms!!
That should be enough to fool her. He’d find out soon enough. When he paid for the flowers, he looped the handles of the holdall over his shoulder and carried the flowers along the road. Before he got to Portobello Close, he ducked into an alley and after a cautious look about, he took the knife from the holdall and slipped it into his front pocket. The handle protruded, so he covered it with his shirt.
His phone beeped with an alert, and he grappled with the flowers using one hand while he tried to use his phone with the other. It wasn't a text from Alice. It was an alert from the camera in the hall outside his flat. He swallowed as he watched the footage. Two uniformed police had entered. Soon they would turn their attention from Scully to Cole. He’d give Alice a little longer to respond to his text, then he’d ring her front doorbell.
The minutes dragged and a familiar sweat broke out on his brow. Everything seemed somehow more intense. Any health anxiety about his increasing pulse rate disappeared in the drug rush. He hoped he’d taken enough to see him through. Then his phone beeped with a message.
Hello. This is Alice. I’ll be home all morning. Thanks.
Cole laughed. She was one instrument he could play to perfection. Alice Madsen danced to his tune. King Cole was in control. He hurried around the corner and along Portobello Road until he came to the Close. For the next few minutes, Cole glanced up and down the street. A lone pedestrian ambled by. He’d have to be quick and play it cool. It would hinge on the timing. But in the long run, it wouldn't matter. He was all in.
Cole thought of Daz. He felt nothing at first. Then it came. Mounting cold rage in search of an outlet. He held the flowers up to hide his face, strode up to the front door and stabbed the bell with a shaking finger. His heart hammered and he came close to hyperventilating. The door swung open.
Cole rushed through the door and bundled Alice into her house. He dropped the flowers on the hall floor and wrapped his arm around her neck. He pulled hard. The bag looped high on his arm made it awkward, but he held on tight. She scrabbled at him, but she was unable to scream or shout due to the pressure on her throat. While she struggled, he kicked the door shut behind him.
“Good, Alice. I won’t hurt you. You need to know that. I only want to talk.” He pushed her towards the stairs where he dropped the bag. Using both hands, he twisted her around to face him, and locked one hand tight around her throat. Her face turned red. She kicked him in the shin and scratched at his wrist.
“You know what, Alice? You need to stop that. Okay? Don't resist and I won't hurt you. Okay?” Then with his free hand, he took the knife from his pocket. He was sure he had cut his leg in the struggle, but he felt no pain. “Remember this, Alice?” He placed it against the side of her neck and cut her. Her eyes flinched. “That’s what happens when you fight. Now sit on the stairs.”
He pushed her down, keeping his hand around her throat. He released the pressure a little and smiled at her. “That better? Good. Take the roll of tape from the bag.”
She shook her head. He brought the knife up to her face and pressed it into her cheek. “You sure?” Her eyes went to the bag, and she unzipped it. She removed the tape with shaking hands. Cole took in every move. His senses buzzed on high alert as Captagon coursed through him. It kept him focused. “Tear off a strip.” Tears welled in her eyes and her lips trembled. Her body shook. It took her several attempts to rip off a piece of tape. When she did, Cole grabbed it and stuck across her mouth. “Now get up and turn around.”
With rough movements he pulled her arms behind her back and wrapped tape around her wrists. He expected her to resist, but she complied. Maybe he had broken her, and now she was his meek bitch. He could do what he liked to her. She’d given in to the inevitable.
When he had bound her hands together, he turned her around. “Okay, Alice. I guess we’re alone. Am I right? Just nod if we’re alone. And don’t lie.”
She gazed at the ground and nodded. He put his hand under her chin and pushed her head up. “Look at me.” He stared right into her eyes. “Look at me. Are we alone?” Her tear-filled eyes swivelled to his, and she nodded. “Good. You know what, Alice? I’m bushed. Let’s go to bed.”
Cole prodded her up the stairs with the knife in one hand and his bag in the other. On the landing, he held the knife to the back of her neck while he opened the office door with his other hand and glanced in. Satisfied it was empty, he pushed Alice into the bedroom. He closed the door. A scuff mark in the corner showed where his camera had spied on her. He pointed at it. “I got great footage of you, Alice. Dancing naked for me. Showing off your sizzling bacon.” He looked at her and smiled. “I have them on the internet. I’ll send you the link later.”
Cole relaxed. So far his plan had worked, but he had thought little beyond getting her into the bedroom. He didn't care. His confidence rode so high, he felt he could accomplish anything. “Remember when we first met?”
Alice eyes were wide, and she nodded.
“Remember what I said to you?”
Alice shook her head.
“Well I do.” Cole grinned and shook the knife at her. “You know what, Danish? You ought to learn respect. That’s what I said. Maybe you should have listened, huh?”
She stared back at him. Cole studied her. “Yeah. You should have.” He would soon rid her of any defi
ance. She wore a pretty dress, it would almost be a shame to cut it off, but that would be part of the fun. The bitch had not only done Daz over, now she’d done him over too. It was only right he returned the compliment. He’d waited long enough. Nothing would deny him the opportunity to fuck her brains out, and he no longer cared whether she'd enjoy it.
He pushed her onto the bed, and she lay in a defeated heap. “Aw. Don't look so sad, Alice. This is going to be fun. A lot of fun.” He went to the bedside table and switched on the radio. “Let’s have a little music, shall we?” An unfinished glass of wine stood beside the radio. Cole picked up the glass by the stem and swirled the contents. He brought it to his nose and sniffed. “Mmm. Nice bouquet. Earthy, musky, sweet. You know what, Alice? Reminds me of you. But this wine’s a little old. Last night’s? I hope you’re cleaner than that.”
Cole backed away and reached down to pull the framed photo of Daz from the bag. He placed the frame on the bedside table. “Remember my brother?” He pointed to the frame. “That’s Daz. He died yesterday thanks to your mate. Now Daz is gonna watch us.”
She didn't move or look his way. Cole shrugged and took off her shoes. He looked at her dress and waved the knife at her. “Sorry about this. I’m gonna have to cut your dress off.” She shook her head and moaned through the tape over her mouth. “What’s that? You don’t want me to cut it? Oh I see. You want me to unzip it?” She nodded.
He motioned to her to roll over and waited until she did. “Now Alice. Here’s the deal. I’ll cut the tape around your wrists, but if you mess with me, you’ll force me to use the knife. Might leave a permanent scar on that beautiful body. You wouldn't like that, would you? Will you obey me? Let me see you nod.”
She lifted her head from the pillow and nodded. “Good, Alice. You're getting into the mood. I like that. But first, let’s make sure you have none of that nasty pepper spray under your pillow.” He ran his hands under the pillows and pulled out a can. “Well, well. Look at that. Let’s keep this out of your grasp, eh?”
When the mace was in his bag, he cut the tape and her arms fell to her sides. He pulled the dress off her, unclasped her bra and threw it on the floor. She wore a tiny thong and Cole wanted to force her to peel it off slowly. Her body no longer shook, and Cole took it to mean she wouldn’t offer any resistance. Perhaps he had impressed on her the danger of trying to fight him off. She would lie there and take it. He’d prefer her tied to the bed, but maybe he could do that later.
“I think I’ll put the knife away. Would you like that?”
She nodded.
“Good.” He put the knife on top of the bag within easy reach. “More civilised, eh?”
Cole ran his hands down her back. “Yum,” he said. Then he kicked off his shoes. He slipped one hand in between her legs and stroked her thighs. He undid his belt and zip. In a single move, he removed his jeans and shorts. He needed to be naked in the bed with her. Living his fantasy. Then Alice ripped the gag off and screamed.
119
Kapoor drummed her fingers on the desk to the steady beat of a tune in her head. She kept thinking about the conversation she had with Laura Bowfield about Lewis Cole. Instinct told her something didn't add up. Several minutes passed, then she picked up the phone and called a colleague in Bethnal Green.
“Charlie, could you help me out? I’ve got someone in your area I’m trying to get a hold of. I want to know where he was last Thursday night and early Friday. You think someone over there could swing by and ask? And, you know, check him out?”
“I’ll see what I can do Meera. Send me the case file and his address.”
“Thanks, I owe you one.”
Then Kapoor called Mark Flanagan.
“Hey Mark, I was hoping you could help me.”
Flanagan grunted. “Seriously? You lot got me sacked.”
“Really? Nothing to do with shagging your girlfriend in clients’ houses, then?”
“What do you want?”
“I’m going to send a photo to your phone of someone. I want to know if it could be the guy who viewed the house in Portobello.”
“Uh, I guess.”
“Give me a few minutes to send it and I’ll call you back.”
Kapoor called the techs in CEG and asked them to get her a screen grab of Lewis Cole from the interview he did on TV after South Kensington. “Do you think you could put glasses on him?”
The guy moaned at her. “Take me a couple of hours at least.”
“Aw shit. I can't wait that long. Just send me the grab.”
Half an hour later she still hadn't received it, and she called him back. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said. “Ten minutes. I got other work.”
While she waited her phone rang. “Charlie? Already?”
“You're not going to believe this Meera.”
“What?”
“We picked up a guy at that address, but it wasn't Cole. It was Joseph Baines, also known as Scully.”
“And?”
“He’s the guy wanted in connection with Whitechapel.”
“Shit. What was he doing in Cole’s place?”
“Looked like he broke in. But it doesn’t concern us anymore, SO15 are all over it now.”
“Great.”
“Oh, one other thing. There was a camera over the front door to Cole’s recording people in the communal hallway.”
“Who put it there?”
“Huh? Cole, I guess. The guys said it looked like it was there a while. SO15 took it away.”
“Christ.” Kapoor leapt to her feet and knocked over her chair. “I gotta warn her.”
“Who?”
Kapoor cut him off without replying and dialled Alice’s number as she ran. She stumbled and dropped the phone. When she picked it up, she saw Flanagan had replied to her by text. Yes. That’s the guy who viewed the house.
120
Ian heard several muffled noises below and wished Alice would be quieter. When he heard a strange voice, he got to his feet and listened at the door. Clumsy footsteps sounded in the hall. A man spoke in a low voice. Something thumped to the ground. An awful chill of fear cut through him and agitated the base of every hair on his neck. He couldn't move. Both his body and his mind froze. Downstairs, he heard a male voice call Alice by name, followed by the noise of sticky tape being pulled from a roll.
Ian had only one explanation. Lewis Cole had returned. And worse, Cole had Alice. His legs shook so much, Ian had to prop himself against the door. He reached into his pocket, but it was empty. The same with the other one. Where was his mobile phone? He glanced at the desk, more in hope than anything else. Then he remembered. His phone was in the kitchen. On the counter. He had to get to it.
Footsteps came from the stairs. Supposing Cole came into the office? The computer screen was on and Ian powered it off. Trembling, he hid behind the door and fought for control of his breathing. He counted. One, two, three, in. One, two, three, out. His heart rate soared into three figures and he squeezed his fists so tight his nails bit into the skin. He concentrated on the pain as much as he could. But he felt lightheaded, and another pain rose in his chest. For a moment, he thought it was the onset of a major cardiac event, and he broke into a profuse sweat. He took a deep breath, then another, and the feeling eased.
The footsteps stopped outside the door. Ian watched as the handle moved down. The door swung open. He pressed against the wall. He sensed a figure on the other side look in. Whoever it was would see the screen off and the chair empty. Ian held his breath. He heard Alice whimper and Cole laugh.
Through the crack in the door jamb, he saw Cole manhandling Alice on the landing. Cole had a knife to her neck, and he saw Cole had bound and gagged her. Ian tried to keep still, but the violent trembling in his legs continued. He clenched his buttocks tight and held his breath. Seconds seemed like minutes. Then Cole pushed Alice into the bedroom and the door closed behind them.
Ian forced himself to shake the paralysing fear. Sweat dribbled into his eyes and he
rubbed them clear. He had a choice. Play the hero and burst into the room where he would likely fall prey to Cole's knife or make it downstairs and call the police.
He took several deep breaths. Speed and silence were essential. He moved away from the door and slipped off his shoes. With slow, deliberate movement, he made his way onto the landing. It pained him to hear Cole’s voice taunting Alice. But the inner voice taunting him pained him even more. The accusation followed him as he moved towards the stairs. Cowardice in the face of the enemy. Cole’s voice continued in a cruel confident manner while Ian descended the stairs and denied his shame.
He reached the kitchen and saw his phone on the island. With shaking hands, he grabbed the phone and hurried to the utility room. He shut the door behind him and called the detective.
“DS Kapoor.”
“Hello detective. This is Ian Morgan…”
“Can you speak up please? I can’t hear you.”
He raised his voice as much as he dared. “Ian Morgan. The rape case against Lewis Cole. He’s got Alice now.”
“Say again?”
“Cole. He’s in our bedroom. He’s got a knife. Alice… Alice is… Please help.”
“All right, Ian. Calm down. Are you telling me that Lewis Cole is in your house?”
“Yes. Yes.”
“Are you in the house now?”
“Yes. I’m hiding in the utility room. He doesn't know I’m here.”
“Right then. We’re on our way. We’ll be coming in heavy so get out now. Don't let him hear you leave. Go out the back if you must. Do not attempt to tackle him. He’s extremely dangerous. Get out now. Go.”
The call ended and Ian looked at the phone. Her words echoed in his head. Get out now. He opened the door into the kitchen and listened. Nothing. He glanced to the garden door. It would be best to heed the detective’s advice and slip out the back. He put his hand on the key and then remembered the stiff lock and the warped door. It made a terrible grating noise when opened. So loud Cole would hear it. Ian imagined Cole rushing down the stairs, brandishing a long sharp knife and gutting Ian like a fish. He rubbed his belly at the thought. The back garden wasn’t an escape option.
