by Jack Probyn
Jake turned his back on her, found a police constable by the gate and relayed the instruction. When he returned, Pemberton was in the middle of ordering the armed officers to carry out a search of the outskirts of the property and the back garden.
‘Make sure nobody’s hiding in the bushes with any unfriendly weapons,’ she told them.
At once, the armed officers headed down the right-hand side of the building into the garden. In the distance, Jake thought he saw the metal handrail of a swimming pool strutting out of the ground.
‘You ever seen anything like this before, Jake?’ Pemberton asked, distracting him.
Jake shook his head. ‘Never.’
‘That makes two of us. You think it could be The Crimsons? You know them better than anyone else.’
Jake opened his mouth to speak, but the words never made it past his teeth.
‘I read your file, Jake,’ she said. ‘You did a good job in Oxford. That’s why I brought you down here. Thought you might be best placed to offer a helping hand. Like I said, you’ve got more experience with them than anyone else.’
‘If it is them, guv.’
Pemberton checked her watch. ‘That’s why I’m asking you, Jake. Your opinion counts just as much as everyone else’s.’
Jake swallowed a catch in his throat. ‘Honestly… I don’t know. Earlier I thought it was, but now… They’ve never done anything this… merciless. But regardless of who it is, we need to find those instructions.’
‘We can’t enter the property until bomb squad have had a look at the device and confirmed it’s safe,’ Pemberton advised.
‘How long could that take?’
Pemberton twisted her neck backward and watched Bridger, who was pacing from side to side at the end of the driveway. He held his phone to his ear and appeared to bark orders into the handset. ‘What’s taking him so long?’
A few seconds later, Pemberton had her answer.
‘Ma’am,’ Bridger said, returning. His hair and forehead shone under the sunlight. It wouldn’t be long until they all started to carry a smell with them wherever they went. ‘Forensics are on their way. ETA fifteen minutes. Bomb squad are going to take even longer.’
‘Why?’
‘They’re having to come from Reigate. And there’s backed-up traffic on the M25. RTC involving a lorry and a busload of children.’
‘My goodness. Is there no one closer?’
‘Sorry, ma’am,’ Bridger said, pursing his lips and shaking his head.
Pemberton sighed as she returned her focus to Candice. The woman was distressed, eyes beading, and her hands still clung to the collar bomb. Jake had never seen one before, and he hoped he never would again for the rest of his career.
‘What do we do now?’ he asked.
Pemberton hesitated a beat before answering. ‘Candice,’ she said into the radio, ‘a team of explosive experts are on their way down to help you.’
‘You don’t understand. There’s a timer on it, and we still need to find the keys.’
‘Keys?’ Jake and Pemberton repeated simultaneously. ‘What keys?’
‘To unlock it. There are keys. F-Four of them.’
‘Where?’ Jake asked, hoping he hadn’t overstepped the mark. He swallowed deeply.
‘They’re everywhere.’ Candice pointed to the mansion. ‘There’s one in the house, but I… I can’t find it… and then – then the rest are around Surrey. Please, we have to find the keys before this thing goes off.’
CHAPTER 17
BRIGHT IDEAS
It had taken just over five minutes for Candice to retrieve the instructions that had been given to her by The Crimsons. Pemberton had come up with the idea of sending her back into the house with the radio and a pair of gloves. The longest part of the process was making sure she moved slowly and carefully, lest any sudden and drastic movements detonate the device around her neck. Everyone in the street realised that, no matter what they did, they were playing with an innocent woman’s life. One wrong move, one wrong decision, and—
Finished.
That wasn’t lost on Jake, and he was grateful it was Pemberton’s responsibility and not his own. So he kept his mouth shut and his suggestions to himself. Not only did he not have the clout for such a thing, he also didn’t want blood on his hands.
After exiting the mansion, Candice placed the sheet of paper in the dog’s bag and sent the animal hurrying towards them. When the dog arrived, Jake bent down, seized the note, photographed it and placed it in an evidence bag. As he stared at the image on his screen and read the instructions, the words filled him with fear, with a sensation that made him want to run up to Candice and begin sawing the collar bomb free from her neck. A sensation that also made him want to run away and not have to deal with what lay before him at the same time. If he thought he was in a difficult position, it was nothing compared to what Candice was going through. He couldn’t be that selfish to run away; that wasn’t him – he’d crossed the line into the garden and there was no going back now, no matter how much he wished otherwise. Instead he needed to remain cool and think logically, like Pemberton, if he was going to stand any chance of making today a success. She needed him as much as he needed her. Same rules applied to Bridger.
Jake lowered his arm and handed the instructions to Pemberton, who continued reading. For someone in such a prominent position, Jake was surprised to see that she was the type of reader who ran her finger along the line to help keep track of where she was on the page. She took an age to finish.
‘First things first,’ she said eventually, ‘find out where the hell forensics and bomb squad are.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Bridger said, stepping beside her. ‘I’ll give them a chase now.’ He strode off towards the other end of the driveway.
‘Whoever’s written this has got neat handwriting,’ Pemberton remarked, shielding the screen from the glare of the sun.
Jake followed her arm, his eyes half-closed. The sunshine was almost blinding. ‘I think they’ve stencilled over a Word document or something. It looks almost immaculate. No one has handwriting that precise.’
‘Send the original to the office. Tell them to get it investigated by the graphologist as soon as possible. Get them to cross-reference it with any documents and signatures in Bridgewater Jewellers… in particular those employee files they all seem to have.’
Jake nodded, hurried away and instructed a uniformed officer to deliver it back to the station. After the officer nodded, Jake raced back to Pemberton’s side.
‘This is insane.’ She sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose with her fingers. ‘How are we going to get inside the property safely?’
Jake wasn’t sure if she was asking him directly or thinking aloud. Nevertheless, he felt called upon and started looking around him, taking in the minutiae of his surroundings. He froze as he glanced at the side of the mansion. ‘The garden,’ he said.
‘Excuse me, Jake?’
‘The garden. Move Candice into the garden where there’s a lot of space – a lot more. That’ll free bomb squad for when they get here, and it’ll free forensics up to get inside the property without any issues.’
‘Hope you keep the bright ideas coming,’ Pemberton said. She stepped from side to side on the balls of her feet as if she were waiting anxiously outside the school disco for the boy that she had a crush on to tell her that he loved her. ‘Add it to my decision log. We’ll take Candice round to the back while you and Bridger get yourselves suited up. Let’s get you guys in there.’
CHAPTER 18
PIT STOP
As the three of them headed further south on the A287 through Beacon Hill, with the sunlight breaking through the arms and leaves of the trees hanging overhead, Luke constantly glanced behind him. Searching for an entourage of blue flashing lights atop liveried police cars chasing after them, drawing closer with every passing second. Each time he found none, and it was only the paranoia in his mind playing tricks on him and making him thi
nk that the sun’s reflection on the traffic was the incandescent blue and white of a police car. Even the sound of a horn from an aggrieved driver turned into a police siren. It was relentless and it grated on his sanity.
‘Pull the car over,’ Luke said, clutching the back of Danny’s seat.
Danny ignored him.
‘Pull the car over,’ he reiterated.
Silence.
‘Dan – we’ve been in this car for too long. Way longer than we usually are. We need to pull over and switch. They’ll have picked up the new plates by now. And I need a piss. Pull the car over.’
‘We’re not stopping,’ Danny said, keeping his eyes trained on the road. ‘Not until we get to Portsmouth.’
‘I need a piss,’ Luke said. He didn’t care if he sounded like an insolent child. His guilt was getting the better of him. Images flashed intermittently in his mind’s eye – vivid, visceral. Images of the dead woman Danny had shot in the neck. The lifeless eyes. The way her body slumped to the floor slowly. And then they moved to images of Candice, lying on the marble with the collar bomb attached to her neck. The screams. Shouts. Cries for help and mercy.
‘Piss in a bottle or something,’ Danny said, grunting loudly.
Luke scanned the back seats. ‘There aren’t any.’
‘Piss on the seats then.’
‘You can’t be fucking serious,’ Luke said. ‘I thought you said no DNA? No trace? Just like every other time we’ve done this. Eh? So what makes this time different? Because it’s Dan’s Big Finale, Dan’s Big Brilliant Idea, he thinks he can sacrifice those rules for everyone other than himself?’
Danny remained silent.
‘Are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?’ Michael said.
‘What elephant?’ Danny asked, his head snapping towards Michael.
‘The fact that you fucking killed someone, Dan. Where did that come from? We never agreed to killing anyone. You could have at least warned us,’ Michael explained. ‘And what did she do to deserve it? She wasn’t getting in the way of anyone. That’s cold-blooded, Dan. I never expected to see that from you.’
‘I did what I had to do.’
‘I saw you pointing that gun at Candice as well… You almost shot her. We need her – without her, this all goes to shit.’
A Ford Insignia pulled out from a rural road, cutting in front of them. Danny slammed on the brakes. Luke propelled forward again, his seat belt biting into his shoulder. As his brother sounded the horn, gave the driver the finger and gradually brought the car back up to normal speed, Luke placed a hand on his bladder; the sensation in his lower stomach worsened, pressing down on him every time they swerved in and out of the traffic, overtaking and undertaking at every opportunity. Luke glanced at the speedometer. It was cradled just above 80mph.
‘There’s only one lane of traffic,’ he said, slapping Danny’s headrest. ‘Are you trying to kill us?’
‘Don’t tell me how to drive, Luke. You can’t even pass your test.’
Danny slammed on the brakes again. This time Luke saw it coming and tensed his legs while extending his hand into the back of Danny’s seat to avoid any pain in his shoulder from the seat belt.
‘Freddy said I was a decent driver,’ Luke retorted, adjusting himself on his seat and gazing out of the window, trying not to think about how close his bladder was to exploding. It felt weird for him to mention their old friend’s name. In fact, he had been more than a friend. A father. The dad they never had. And he was responsible for leading them onto the path they were currently travelling.
‘Freddy ain’t here now, is he? So you’re going to listen to me instead.’ Danny smacked his hand on the steering wheel. ‘Christ – if only you both knew what Freddy was like. He’s not the hero you think he is.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Michael asked.
‘He taught you everything you know. He taught us everything we know,’ Luke added.
‘And look where he ended up. Locked up for the next fifteen years.’
‘And we’re gonna be locked up for the rest of our lives if you don’t swap this car over and get into a new one.’
Danny ignored him. ‘Freddy ain’t worth shit.’
‘What’d he do to you?’ Michael placed his hand on the dashboard, twisting to face Danny. He was giving his older brother that look of disappointment – the same one they’d all seen on their father’s face too many times, back when he’d been a small part of their lives.
‘Nothing.’ Danny dismissed Michael with a wave of his hand. ‘Leave it.’
They slowed as they approached a roundabout. To their right was a slip road that led onto the A3. Danny swerved the car around the bend, up the slip road and merged into the two lanes of traffic. The sound of the engine growling filled the still and silent interior. Luke continued to stare out of the window, watching the world fly past in a mirage of green and grey.
For a long time, he had wanted out of his life as a career criminal. It was horrible – constantly turning your back on everyone you loved. Watching over your shoulder every step you took. It wasn’t the life he’d imagined he’d have when he was growing up. He’d never been academically smart, but from an early age he’d wanted to be an architect. An artist. A graphic designer. Someone who could draw. Someone who could make the world a better place with his art – and the only contribution he’d made so far was creating the concept for the devil masks that were synonymous with their name. Other than that, it had been a pipe dream. Something he could never share with his brothers, especially not after they’d formed the group. How could he leave when they’d been so adamant about loyalty and trust and brotherhood? What sort of brother would he be if he turned his back on them? Neither of them would forgive him.
But now there was hope. They were finally on their way out of the country – and out of this life forever. Now his passions had the chance to become a reality in the new lives they were going to make for themselves. Soon the three of them would be able to enjoy the rest of their time on earth doing what they loved, together. At least, that was what he told himself.
A road sign for a nearby service station flashed past less than a quarter mile away.
‘Pull over here, Danny. I need a piss. Still.’
Danny expelled a puff of discontent from his nostrils.
‘I think I saw one of those speed cameras flash a few miles back. This’ll be a good place to ditch the car and get a new one.’
‘OK, you can put those skills Freddy taught you to the test. Just don’t fuck it up.’ Danny’s voice was replete with disdain, but Luke appreciated the poor attempt at trying to lighten the mood.
‘Dan…’ Michael began. ‘You sure that’s a good idea? We’ve got half the feds looking out for—’
Danny dismissed him with a wave of the hand. ‘No, no. If star boy wants to prove himself, let him. It’s our last time at this, so it’s only fair. Then we’ll see how much he knows.’
It was settled. Luke eased into the comfort of the leather seat. His hand gravitated towards his crotch and applied pressure, relieving the burning sensation in his bladder once more.
Danny moved the car across the two lanes of traffic, bringing it down to a legal speed, and pulled off into a service station. He slid in to park behind an Audi A4 and yanked the handbrake on. The service station was surprisingly quiet, save for a few cars filling up with petrol and heavy goods vehicles that were parked up behind the building, their drivers either sleeping or devouring a fast-food feast.
Luke placed his hand on the door handle.
‘What are you doing?’ Danny asked, twisting back in the seat.
Luke glanced at the handle. ‘I thought it was obvious?’
‘Not dressed in that, you’re not.’
‘Shit.’
‘Get undressed. Mess your hair up. Put your hat on. Keep your head down. And try not to touch anything.’
In the back seat of Candice’s GLC, Luke unzipped the front of his crimson o
veralls, slipped them off his body and shoved them to the side. He then reached inside the gym bag, sifted through the jewellery and found his beanie. Pulling it low on his head, he swept a few strands of hair out of his eyes and concealed the bag with his overalls before hopping out of the car.
Danny called back: ‘You’ve got two minutes. Finish your piss and then come straight back.’
CHAPTER 19
THE SIGNS
The atmosphere inside the car was sour.
Michael watched Luke adjust his beanie and advance towards the Shell petrol station, hopping over the potholes in the ground before speaking. ‘What was that all about?’ he asked Danny, keeping his gaze focused on the building’s revolving doors.
‘What you talking about?’
‘That Freddy bollocks you was spouting off to him. What ain’t you telling us?’
Danny undid his seat belt buckle and folded his arms. ‘Luke doesn’t stop talking about that fucking prick. He worships him.’
‘Can you blame him?’
‘You seriously want to get into this again? The man who raised us was serving, defending our country. He was a fucking war hero. Ain’t right what they did to him afterwards. But Freddy ain’t nothing like that – just a jumped-up little shit who was there at the right time and turned out to be good at robbing places. Freddy’s half the man Dad is.’
Michael sighed, hooked his fingers in the grab handle above his head and said, ‘You can’t blame Luke for being born when he was. It’s not his fault Dad missed him growing up. And it’s not his fault Freddy was the only role model he had.’
‘What about me?’ There was pain in Danny’s expression. As if the stresses and turmoil he’d been through his entire life were now showing up on his exterior. The narrow lines in his forehead and sides of his eyes were beginning to deepen, the bags beneath them darkening. ‘What about me, Michael? I tried to be a good role model for that kid. You know I did. We’re his blood. Freddy isn’t. And I’ll be fucked if he thinks Freddy is a better man than me. The bloke don’t even know his own son.’
