by Jack Probyn
‘I told you…’ Tatiana said, a lump catching in her throat. ‘Nigel helped me set it up. He told me… if I ever needed an escape, an insurance package, this should be it.’
‘Insurance package?’
‘You know… if something ever happened. If I ever needed to get away. If something happened to you guys.’
Georgiy looked deeply into her cavernous dark eyes, which seemed to consume all light that fell into them. He’d loved those eyes once, shared secrets with them, trusted them. But now, there was nothing. They were innocuous, inanimate objects. As was she.
Regardless of how much she told him, he took it all with a pinch of salt. For a few months now they’d been close. In fact, more than close. Lovers. They’d shared everything with one another, and he’d allowed her into his mind – an alien sensation he’d only just had the courage to allow her. But she’d lied to him, betrayed him, kept secrets from him.
He was determined to find out whether this was the only one.
‘How long you have place?’ he asked.
She broke eye contact and played with her hands again. ‘A couple of months.’
‘And you not tell me.’
‘Clayton told me not to.’
As she said it, there was a slight change in her voice. At first, Georgiy didn’t recognise it, but it sounded like there was a break in her accent, a falter in her speech.
‘You wouldn’t lie, would you?’
‘No! Of course not!’ She placed a hand on his knee. ‘You know I wouldn’t.’
There it was again. The break in her voice. The dropping accent. A thin English tone breaking through.
Georgiy placated her with a smile and then stood, returning to the window. He cast his gaze out onto the blackness before him, save for the dull glow of the moon breaking through the veil of clouds that hung over the countryside. He cast his mind back to the moment he’d found Tatiana. How they’d bumped into one another in the train station as he was on his way to a target. How she’d been on the same carriage as him. How they’d caught each other’s eyes. How he’d known then, straight away, that she wasn’t what she seemed.
Tatiana had been hired to kill him. There was an aggrieved former customer who he’d let down, and they’d sent Tatiana to finish him off. But, after some gentle persuasion with his mouth – both in and out of the bedroom – she’d ignored the hit and decided to join forces with him. Their relationship had started there, and it had never really ended.
Until now.
He was beginning to feel like everything she’d ever told him was a lie. He’d allowed himself to be blinded by a feeling he’d sworn he would never succumb to.
Her voice. Her accent. It was fake. Not Ukrainian like she claimed it to be. It was British, English. And she was an undercover agent.
Tatiana – if that was her real name – rose from the chair, its legs scraping against the stone tiles, and moved out of the room. Georgiy’s gaze followed her. As soon as she was out of the room, he bounded across the kitchen and grabbed Vitaly’s arm, tugging at his sleeve.
‘Give gun, now.’
‘Why?’
Vitaly took too long. Georgiy reached for the man’s armpit and yanked the Glock free from his shoulder holster. Using his free hand, Georgiy stifled his cousin, who’d just opened his mouth to protest, then followed Tatiana into the living room.
He found her with her back turned to him, staring out of the bay windows, hands in front of her.
‘What you do?’ he asked as he entered, gripping the weapon, keeping it concealed. For now. ‘Who you work for?’
Tatiana didn’t answer.
‘Who you work for?’
Still nothing.
‘I know you undercover. Who you work for? The Cabal?’
Nothing.
‘The Cabal make you work against me?’
Tatiana turned to face him. In her hand, she held a mobile phone. From his position, he saw that a call had connected. He didn’t know who it was to, but he didn’t need to.
Tatiana had just called in backup. They were closing in around him. And, situated in the middle of nowhere, there was no way out.
Georgiy raised the gun in the air, aimed the muzzle between those once-perfect eyes of hers and pulled the trigger.
CHAPTER 99
LAWYER
For half an hour, Jake and Charlotte, along with the operational firearms commander and his team, consisting of ten men, had been lying flat on a damp mound of earth in the middle of nowhere, attentively watching the desolate and abandoned house, water seeping through their clothing.
Steve, back at the satellite office, had been tracking the mobile numbers purchased by Vitaly at the convenience store the other night. And the number – only one of them was on for now, while another dropped in and out of service – had led them there.
Jake could see them through the windows of the house. Moving, talking. Through his binoculars, they looked anxious, agitated, like they knew they were being followed. Like they knew the rope was tightening around their necks.
Jake recognised Vitaly from the CCTV footage. He was a broad man, barely older than himself, with black hair that was beginning to grey on the sides. All the stress of killing people, Jake wondered.
Vitaly was standing by the window, gazing out at the surroundings. Jake and the rest of the team relaxed in the knowledge that they were barely visible in the pitch black. Thick, fathomless clouds loomed overhead, gradually diminishing the stars and moon from view; their cars were hidden half a mile down the road, and none of them wore reflective clothing. Besides, if it came to a shootout, Jake was just grateful that they had some of the Met and Hertfordshire Police’s best firearms officers with them.
Sitting at the table, in a muted discussion, were Georgiy and Tatiana. Georgiy was sitting with his back to Jake. He zoomed in on Tatiana’s face. He didn’t know why, but she looked afraid, pensive – almost as if she was being held there against her will.
A second later, feedback sounded on the radio between him and Charlotte. It was quiet, barely audible.
‘All units report…’ came the static voice of the operational firearms commander, the officer in charge of making sure the strategy was in place.
‘Victor-five – in position.’
‘Victor-one – confirmed.’
‘Victor-two – in position.’
‘Victor-three – eyes on.’
‘Confirmed. All units in position.’
Adrenaline surged through Jake’s body as he heard those words, dominating the chill that was beginning to settle into his stomach and thighs. A light rain – the drizzly kind that seems to linger in the air as though it’s part of the atmosphere – had started the moment they arrived and was showing no signs of abating. Surrounding them was silence, save for the sound of his own breath, the gentle rustle of the blades of grass moving as the wind carried them, and the rain. He turned his attention back to the binoculars. Soon, he told himself. Soon, this’ll all be over.
Except for The Cabal, his raison d’être – the entire purpose of his career in the police, he’d decided.
As Jake pressed the binoculars against his face, he noticed something was wrong. Tatiana was out of her seat, heading into the other room, and then Georgiy was accosting Vitaly, reaching inside his pocket, pulling out…
It was a gun. A Glock.
Georgiy concealed the weapon against his leg and followed Tatiana into the living room. Her chest was illuminated, a bright shade of blue coming from her mobile, her face wracked with nerves.
‘Something’s happening,’ Jake said, clawing for Charlotte along the grass. ‘He’s… he’s got a gun.’
Jake couldn’t tear his eyes from the action yet he needed to find the radio to alert the officers. Discarding the binoculars momentarily, he ran his hands through the blades of grass either side of him – the way he did through Elizabeth’s hair when she was sat in front of him while they were watching the TV – but he couldn’t find it.
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‘Charlotte! Charlotte!’ he whispered. She was on her front, peering through her binoculars still, transfixed. ‘Charlotte, where’s the—?’
A single gunshot boomed, echoing through the house and around the undulating hills of the countryside.
Before Jake had time to acknowledge what had happened, two more rounds were fired. Three. Four. Followed by the devastating sound of petrified screams and the splintering noise of glass smashing.
Panicked, disorientated by the piercing sounds reverberating around his skull and knocking out his equilibrium, Jake fumbled for the binoculars again. He was just quick enough to see Tatiana standing there at the window, surrounded by the armed officers. Beyond her, Georgiy was being thrown to the coffee table in the middle of the room, his face pinned down onto the wood. To the left of Tatiana, by the entrance to the kitchen, was Vitaly, slumped, a streak of blood above him, staining the white door.
Jake blinked as he tried to work out what had happened. How could Vitaly die if he hadn’t been the one holding the gun?
And then he remembered. Just as he’d lowered the binoculars, he’d seen Vitaly heading for the kitchen, out of the corner of his eye. He must have tried to get his weapon back from Georgiy – perhaps there had been a scuffle – and then the armed officers had shot the man with the gun. But he’d have to wait for the final report.
As Jake let out a sigh of relief, static came over the radio. He lowered the binoculars and looked at the communications device in Charlotte’s hand. She was climbing to her feet and speaking into the microphone.
‘House safe and secure. One fatality. Two in custody.’
Charlotte acknowledged receipt of the transmission and turned to Jake as she lowered the microphone to her side.
‘It’s over, Jake,’ she said, touching his arm and wiping an insect away from his shoulder. ‘You’ve done it.’
Jake wasn’t convinced. Sure, he’d uncovered one aspect of The Cabal’s corruption within the police, but he was beginning to get the impression that Liam, Drew, Garrison, The Farmer, Bridger, Michael, Danny… they were all just very small cogs in a very large machine.
It was up to Jake to break it.
A minute later, Jake and Charlotte were standing by the police van that had been brought in to transport the offenders back to the station. It hadn’t taken long for the rest of the police force to arrive – the emergency responders who were in the middle of helping set up the cordon, and the forensics squad who were in the middle of donning their protective gear just as the firearms team returned with Tatiana and Georgiy locked tightly in their grips.
‘Get off me!’ the woman screamed, wriggling, her arms pinned behind her back. ‘You don’t know who you’re dealing with.’
A firearms officer hefted the woman into the back of the police van and threw her onto the seat. A few feet behind her was Georgiy. He seemed more reserved, more relaxed, as though he was already beginning to figure out an escape plan in his head. Jake hoped that wasn’t the case.
‘Lawyer. I want lawyer,’ said Georgiy.
Jake smirked. ‘Let me guess… Rupert Haversham?’
CHAPTER 100
NAMES
The four of them were finally seated around the table in the interview room at Loughton police station, on the inside track of the M25. Jake, Charlotte, Georgiy, and Rupert. Four hours had elapsed since Georgiy and Tatiana had been arrested, and the majority of that time had been spent trying to find Rupert Haversham. But now that they were all there, Jake was relieved they could finally begin.
He got the formalities out of the way as quickly as possible. They were well into the early hours of the morning by now, he still hadn’t slept, and it didn’t look like they’d be finishing any time soon – they’d be lucky if they could submit to the Crown Prosecution Service by the end of the day.
‘Tell me, Georgiy,’ Jake started, ‘what do you know about Danny and Michael Cipriano?’
‘No comment.’
‘And what’s your relationship with Pete Garrison?’
‘No comment.’
‘Drew Richmond?’
‘No comment.’
‘Liam Greene.’
‘No comment.’
‘Do you know anyone at all?’
‘No comment.’
‘Were you hired to kill any of these individuals?’
‘No comment.’
‘Right.’
Jake turned to Charlotte. This was going to be harder than he’d originally thought. It was clear to see Haversham’s tactic of staying silent was working out. Both he and Charlotte had allowed him some time to speak with Georgiy before the interview – they were forced to do everything to the letter of the law when it came to Rupert; the man’s reputation preceded him, and he was able to find the smallest of gaps in the truth, the smallest of holes in the procedure that may have been overlooked.
‘Georgiy…’ Charlotte began. ‘We have evidence of phone calls made to and from your mobile by a non-registered number that was being used by DCI Liam Greene. We also have the recordings of these calls. We’ve also traced the unregistered mobile number that you’ve been using, and it puts you in the exact location of Danny Cipriano’s and Richard Maddison’s deaths. What do you have to say about that?’
‘No comment.’
‘Will you be answering any of our questions today?’ Jake asked.
‘He is answering them,’ Rupert interjected. ‘He’s just not giving you the answers you want to hear.’
Jake offered a forced grin to Haversham. ‘Right. Fine. I think that concludes everything for now.’
Jake reached across the table to terminate the interview, but then he hovered his finger over the button. An idea had popped into his mind. ‘I was… I was wondering whether you would be able to answer me this. Does the name The Cabal ring any bells to you?’
Georgiy reacted the way Jake had expected: obstinate, defiant, the same way he’d reacted to all the other names. But it was really Rupert’s expression Jake was looking for. The man might have been a highly successful criminal defence lawyer with an ability to lie his way through court, but he wasn’t a very good poker player. And that told Jake everything he needed to know.
Jake terminated the interview and stood up to leave.
‘Thank you both for your time.’ He nodded at Haversham and then turned his attention to Georgiy. ‘I’m sure we’ll be back again very soon.’
They left the interview room in silence. As soon as the door closed behind him, Jake clenched his fist and smacked it against the wall in a flurry of anger.
‘What’re you doing?’ Charlotte asked.
‘It’s a waste of time. I don’t think he’s gonna tell us anything.’
‘At least he’s on the other side of that wall instead of being out there where he can hurt someone else.’
Jake shrugged. ‘Try to put whatever positive spin on it you want. We’re still no closer to finding out who The Cabal is.’
‘We’ll get there. Trust me, we’ll get there.’
‘How?’
Charlotte looked up and down the corridor, opened the door nearest to them and pushed him inside. They were in the men’s toilets, and before she spoke, Charlotte checked all of the cubicles. Once she deemed that they were the only ones in there, she spoke.
‘I’ve been thinking recently.’
‘Yeah?’
‘My career. Maybe it’s time to change. What do you say about me joining MIT? You’re gonna need a pretty big rebuild. I’ve done some great things with the DPS, don’t get me wrong. And I love the people I work with. But I can’t do what I do there anymore. It’s too taxing. It’s too horrible. I like to think there are still some good guys left out there.’
‘Does it not feel better to catch the bad ones?’
‘Do you think so? I mean, here we are, having just arrested someone who’s hired to kill people for money and another for being bent – and you’re worried about the bigger scheme of things. Does it reall
y feel that satisfying? There’ll always be a bigger fish.’
‘Paper houses,’ Jake whispered. ‘A few sheets have fallen but the house still stands. I’m gonna burn it to the ground. Until there’s nothing left.’
The door opened and a uniformed officer entered. The man froze, stunned at the female presence in the men’s bathroom. Before the door closed, Jake told him to get out. The man did, sharpish.
‘Coffee?’ Charlotte asked. ‘My treat.’
‘Kill for one,’ Jake replied. ‘I suppose maybe I could get used to having you around the office more often.’
‘If that’s going to be the case, then there’s something else you should probably know.’
‘What’s that?’
‘My real name. It’s not Charlotte. It’s Stephanie.’
CHAPTER 101
BLOOD MONEY
Later that day, at some point in the afternoon – he didn’t know when; his internal body clock was completely off – Jake drove home in silence, preparing himself for what was about to come his way. Overthinking was an understatement. He wondered what Elizabeth was going to say when he returned. How much Liam had told her. How much she’d believed. How much she’d argued, and protested that Jake wasn’t capable of having an affair, of doing any of the things Liam had accused him of.
A part of him wanted the drive to take longer, for him to be delayed in traffic, caught behind a tractor in the middle of the A222. Something that would delay the inevitable. But, sadly, there was nothing, and by the time he pulled up to his house, the journey had taken him just under an hour.
