by R. S. Sutton
Valerie pulled the jacket away from the bulge by her arm, gave up scrutinising the deserted night and followed the numbered arrows to the apartment door. Not sure if the music signalled someone else was in the flat as the door opened, she shoved Dennis back into the room.
‘All alone?’
‘Valerie. How nice. What brings you here?’
Valerie pushed him again, this time into a chair. ‘You can cut the niceties, Dennis. Are you alone?’
‘Oh, Dennis.’ A soft cooing came from the next room.
‘Well, that’s a no then.’ Valerie released the door handle. A startled girl pulled a flowery sheet above her breasts.
Probably under twenty, she didn’t believe that less is more when it came to makeup. Long chestnut hair hinted at the pretty young woman beneath.
‘Better come in and join the party, after you’ve put something on.’ Then, turning back to Dennis, ‘Well, aren’t you the one full of surprises? Didn’t have you down as jumping into bed with a slapper.’
Dennis got to his feet and shuffled nervously. ‘Now what’s going on, Valerie?’
‘Let’s just wait for your friend, shall we?’
When the girl appeared, Valerie turned to Dennis. ‘Well, be a gentleman. Give her the fare home.’
‘This is her home.’
‘Crikey, Dennis. You can do better than that.’ She looked first at Dennis and then the girl. ‘Okay, give her a twenty for the pictures.’
Putting hands on hips, the girl scowled at Dennis. ‘Aye, do you mind! I ain’t off to no flicks while you give ’er one. If you’re goin’ to screw anyone, it’s me.’
Valerie took a couple of twenties from her pocket. ‘Always tell a Roedean girl.’
‘Eh?’
‘Okay, Tara Palmer-Tomkinson, make it the theatre.’ Along with the notes, Valerie took a purple coat from the door and thrust it into the girl’s hands. ‘Take a hike, golden girl.’
‘You goin’ to let her chuck me out, Denny?’
‘Denny ain’t got a say in this.’ Valerie held the door open and pushed her through. ‘Now go find yourself another free ride. If you’ll excuse the expression.’
Unsure of what was coming, Dennis slumped back into the chair and waited quietly until Valerie returned.
‘Lost, aren’t you?’ she said. ‘Hand the information on down the line, but when it comes to the lightning striking, you’re out of fuel. Well, you bastard, it’s struck me and you’ve been catapulted right into the middle. It’s time to pay, and I’m the cashier. Now, on your feet.’
‘Valerie…’ Dennis made weakened legs work as he pushed himself from the chair. ‘I…’ He looked around for non-existent help. ‘What are you talking about?’ A strike across the face sent him back into the chair.
‘Don’t make it worse, Dennis. Don’t take me for a prat. More than one person in this treacherous mess has made that mistake, and they’re now on the wrong side of the great divide.’
Dennis held his arms out in defence. ‘Honestly, Valerie, you’re making a mistake.’
‘What’s the name of Preston’s yacht, Dennis?’
‘What?’ He furrowed his brow at the seemingly unrelated question.
‘It’s a simple question, Dennis.’
‘The Sun Dancer. Why?’
‘The Sun Dancer. Exactly.’
Dennis pushed himself into the chair back. ‘What the hell’s this all about?’
‘Up.’ She caught hold of his collar, dragging him to his feet. ‘Get your car keys.’
He fumbled through a few keys in a glass bowl before removing a BMW fob. ‘Where’re we going?’
‘You’ll see.’
Grabbing at the doorframe, he fell backwards as she propelled him into the corridor.
‘How come all the bad guys drive Beemers?’
‘You’re making a mistake, Valerie. I’m not one of them. Honest.’
Valerie hit the lift button and pulled him towards her. ‘The Sun Dancer. It’s Sun Dancer on the back of the boat and on all the papers. Only the Prestons and the ones involved in this call it The Sun Dancer. And that includes you.’ She thrust him into the lift and put her elbow on the button sending them to the basement.
‘And that’s it?’
‘Along with me falling into the wrong hands when no one else knew. It’s enough.’
‘When?’
‘The bent inspector. He could have just brushed me off, no problem. Someone told him that I was more than from Special Branch or whatever. He was told I was close and to take care of me.’
‘You’re wrong. Honest to God, you’re wrong.’
Valerie looked around the underground car park. ‘Which one?’
He nodded to a blue 2-Series BMW. ‘Over there.’ Dennis dropped the key as he pressed the entry button. Valerie kicked it back towards him, then pushed him along.
Even though it had an auto box, Dennis’s trembling foot had the car jerking towards the exit.
‘Left.’ Valerie pointed along the nearest turn as they exited the car park. With shaking hands, Dennis followed her instructions.
‘Where’re we going?’
‘Drive.’
‘What can I do to get you to—?’
‘You can’t.’
Valerie carried on with the directions until they pulled up next to the bollards where Jane had taken the beating.
‘Out.’ She followed him and, as he dropped to hands and knees, she gave him a kick.
‘Valerie!’ He fell back, supporting himself on outspread hands behind his back. ‘It wasn’t me!’
‘In case they didn’t tell you, this is where your friends battered Jane to within an inch of her life.’ She flicked a cigarette out and calmly took the Zippo to it. ‘Don’t suppose you ever got your hands dirty, did you, Dennis? Just get on the phone then pick up your wages.’ She blew smoke out towards the river, pocketing the Disque Bleu and lighter. ‘Funny thing, life, isn’t it? Most people don’t get to choose which way to jump when the time comes. You did but decided to go the wrong way.’
‘I didn’t. Honestly, Valerie, I’m straight. You’ve got it all wrong.’ Dennis pushed with his heels but just came up against one of the bollards.
‘Not nice, is it?’ She drew the Glock and, sitting on a bollard, rested it on her knee. ‘Frightening when there’s no way out, I know… I’ve been there.’
The night was cool but sweat was starting to gather on Dennis’s brow and back. ‘I don’t know what to say, Valerie. How do I convince you that I haven’t had anything to do with it?’
She drew the slide back and raised the gun to his head. ‘There’s three men dead, more if you count the sewer rats, all because of the filth you were mixed up with. A woman on the Exe has no son, to go with her dead husband. Give me one reason, doesn’t even have to be a good one, but one reason I shouldn’t pull this trigger.’
Valerie wasn’t sure which she heard first, the footfall through the dying grass or the voice. ‘I’d better take that.’ An arm came from behind and gently removed the gun from her grasp.
‘Think the sergeant told you before. Don’t abuse it.’ Simonds lowered the gun and sat on a nearby bollard.
‘Not sure I’d have done it.’ Valerie’s laboured breathing eased as the gun was removed. ‘Think I just wanted to see him sweat.’
‘Not worked it out yet, have you?’
Valerie pushed her hair back and peered into the darkness. ‘Worked what out?’
Turning to face him, her brain raced as she realised how far off-base she’d been.
Simonds stood up, raised the pistol and shot Dennis in the chest. ‘It wasn’t that useless public-school twat. Told you back in the office, I get to know what’s going on long before it filters through to anyone else.’
‘You bastard!’ Valerie jumped up, b
ut he moved quickly as she took a swing.
‘I was told you were a bad loser, Valerie.’ He gave Dennis a kick but, receiving no response, sat back down. ‘Now what the hell am I going to do with you?’
With the barrel of the pistol, he motioned Valerie a few yards away as he lit a cigarette. ‘Lost me a lot of money, you have.’ He looked down at Dennis then back to Valerie. ‘Well, we have this little turd shot with your gun, so where to now? Shoot yourself in a fit of remorse, maybe? Naw, shoot Dennis and then you disappear. Get into his car.’ He raised the gun as he felt through Dennis’s jacket for the key. ‘Come on, move or you get it right here.’ He threw the key across. ‘You drive.’
Valerie banged the lock with her fist. ‘The door’s stuck.’
Coming around from the front, Simonds pulled at the handle. As the door flew open, Valerie hit him in the teeth and ran to the other side. The first bullet ricocheted from the car roof; a second went harmlessly into the night.
Valerie ran into the darkness between two lamps and crouched beside a pile of lumber. ‘That’s three. Don’t forget it’s a baby Glock. One in the barrel and six in the clip. Only four left.’
‘I only need one for you, Valerie. You might be useful, but you can’t shoot without a gun.’
She threw a chunk of wood across; it bounced from the wall behind the car.
‘Have to do better than that, Valerie. You’re up against a pro.’ The voice was further along the path as she moved towards the edge of the embankment.
An involuntary curse left her lips as she tripped over an old warp, and two shots flew over her head.
‘Just the two left now.’
‘Then what? Going to take me on at unarmed combat?’
Searching between old crates and tyres for a few seconds, Simonds did not see as she ran back towards the car. Only when a bullet thumped into her shoulder did she change and swerve down an alleyway. Too late she saw it was a dead end, as he came towards her.
‘Told you I only needed one bullet. Looks like I need two.’ He raised the gun, only to be confronted with the slide in the rear position. The Glock was empty.
‘Sorry, Inspector, I lied. It’s one short in the clip.’ Blood trickled down her shoulder; luckily it was numb as she drew a pistol from the back of her belt. ‘All that crap you gave me back in the office, I believed it. You bastard.’
The inspector stopped and held up flat palms. ‘Sorry, but bringing a second gun? Now that’s cheating.’ With little to lose, he slowly continued towards her. ‘The thing is, are you going to use it?’ The answer came swiftly as a bullet in the leg sent him to the ground.
She pulled the phone from her jacket pocket, but within the high walls the signal was absent. Quickly heading towards the alleyway entrance, Simonds made a grab at her ankle and sent her toppling into the dirt. He grabbed her thigh and the belt around her jeans, then pulled her towards him.
‘Bastard!’ The curse was spat out at the same time as she kicked him across the head. With both of them still on the ground, Simonds managed to twist round. Valerie screamed as he punched her wounded shoulder. The trickle of blood turned into a stream. At the same time, the gun fell from her grasp.
She kicked him again, turning back and forth looking for the pistol in the dim light. He managed to struggle to his feet, but his injured leg would not take his weight and he collapsed across Valerie’s chest. Fighting to get free, an outstretched hand found the pistol. She turned, making a savage strike across the inspector’s temple with the gun butt.
‘Got other things in mind for you. Arsehole.’
She got to her feet and pressed speed dial. ‘Need the cavalry, Claude.’ She looked back down the alley at the semi-conscious inspector. ‘Suppose you’d better bring an ambulance as well. And I’m afraid we’ll need a body bag.’
***
Valerie was sitting on one of the bollards when flashes of blue lit up the embankment.
‘You all right?’
She had never seen Claude move so fast. ‘Oh, you know,’ she said, remembering something from a lifetime ago, ‘clinging to the wreckage.’
‘Trouble follows you around like teeny-boppers chasing Justin Bieber. What the bloody hell happened?’
Wincing as she raised her arm, Valerie pointed down the alley. ‘Wounded one in there. Better get your guys to check him before letting the medics in. Dead one over here.’ She nodded over her shoulder to where Dennis lay.
‘And you?’ Claude looked at Valerie’s shoulder and called over one of the ambulance crew.
After removing her jacket, she handed over the holster and gun to Claude. ‘You’d better look after this for the time being. There’s another pistol down the alley with our friend. Don’t lose it, that one’s mine.’
‘Been here before,’ said Claude, turning his back as Valerie’s T-shirt came off.
‘Christ’s sake, Claude, don’t get so bloody prissy. I’m not going to take my bra off.’
The banter was interrupted by a shout from the medic at Dennis’s side.
‘This one’s alive.’
Twenty-Six
Slumped in the chair across the desk from the colonel, Valerie was totally drained. The ever-present energy, mental and physical, was gone.
‘You hung me out to dry,’ she said, gently rubbing at the stitches under her jacket. ‘Didn’t care if I came out the other end or not. Just so long as you could keep on building your precious bloody Jerusalem.’ Playing with a cigar cutter he said nothing, waiting patiently for her to continue. ‘How’s Dennis?’
‘Okay. Hopefully. Bullet went straight through and didn’t touch anything important. Poor little sod must have fainted with the shock. Lucky.’
‘Very. He’d have had his brains all over the grass if Simonds had known he was still alive.’
The colonel put the cigar cutter down before spreading his fingers on the desk. ‘I’ve made arrangements. That is, set up a pension for Ben’s mother. Just said he had some sort of insurance. She’ll be okay.’
‘Okay?!’ The blood in Valerie’s neck flushed into her cheeks. ‘Jesus bloody Christ! Her husband was dragged under a boat. I killed her son. How’s she going to be anywhere near okay?!’
‘Stay away.’ He leant forward, fixing her with an uncompromising glare. ‘Don’t even think about going to see her. You’ll make it worse.’
‘That’s a joke. Where in God’s name am I ever going to get the guts to go and see her?’
‘We’ve got all those that count.’ He attempted a little graciousness with an understated smile, but failed, producing something nearer to a sneer. ‘The ones left…’ He uneasily cleared his throat, but Valerie felt no sympathy for the man obviously out of his comfort zone. She’d had to bear her part of the guilt and felt no remorse sharing it around. ‘The few small ones haven’t the brains to give trouble on this scale. They’ll drift back into mainstream crime and be sent down sooner or later.’
‘What about—?’
‘The two from the east?’ he interrupted. ‘Gone. They’re strictly mercenaries. With no pay they won’t want to know. Probably sitting in the departure lounge at Heathrow reading Vegan Food and Living right now.’
Valerie pulled up the large briefcases that had been by her side since she had walked in. ‘Present,’ she said, dumping them on his desk.
‘Cripes.’ The colonel looked genuinely impressed at the tightly bound notes. ‘Not sure I’ve ever seen that much in one place before.’
‘The other’s the same. Didn’t know what to do with it all.’ For the first time she managed a half-smile. ‘Well, that’s not strictly true. There were one or two things that crossed my mind.’
‘How much?’ he asked, thumbing the top pile.
‘According to Lawson, somewhere around half a million. That is until I took a couple of bundles. Gave one to Jane. I’ve got something e
lse in mind for the other… if that’s okay?’
‘Yes, of course.’ Shutting the lid, the colonel dropped the cases to the floor. ‘Sure… Can I ask you something?’
‘If you want.’
He reached for the cigar cutter and started to use it like a bunch of worry beads. ‘Why do you pretend to hate your country?’
‘Pretend? Now there’s a joke if ever I heard one.’
‘You can’t fool me, Valerie. If we were all out of ammunition and the enemy was charging up the beaches of our green and pleasant land, you’d be there… throwing rocks at them!’
***
‘Conscience money, is it, gorgeous?’ Dan looked at the pile of notes on the table. ‘Pay-out for the boat is on its way, so I don’t need it.’ He pushed it back.
‘It’s to help you out. Get some modern equipment on board.’
‘Ain’t going fishing no more, getting too old.’
‘Come on, Dan, don’t be stupid.’
‘Don’t call me stupid,’ he growled.
At a new low ebb, Valerie just sat there. All the friendliness, all the banter between her and the old man had evaporated.
‘It wasn’t…’ She stopped as steely eyes burnt into hers. Only she, the colonel and Claude knew how Ben had died, and she had neither the energy nor the courage to explain. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, rising from the table. ‘If you don’t want it, give it to the RNLI.’
She turned and made for the door of the small cottage.
‘Goodbye, Dan.’
Twenty-Seven
As the wind came around into the north, the chill of autumn was in the air when Preston walked along the towpath. The vibrant greens of the summer were gone, leaving the dead and dying leaves strewn around like decaying confetti. Blackberries and wild hips that had hung along the bushes had been plundered by blackbirds, the odd ones that had been missed now lying crushed in the mud.
