by Jay Gill
“So, who have we got here?”
“We’re not sure yet. We’ve not had time to identify him. He has no ID on him.”
“And this is the missing guest, I presume?” I crouched beside the body.
“Nope. According to staff, this fella isn’t a guest. The missing guest is a male called Jared Vaughan, and that’s why I called you.”
I got to my feet. Rayner led the way out of the room to a quiet spot in the corridor.
“Are you ready for this?” He was almost whispering now, as if saying it loudly might somehow change what he’d uncovered. “I think the missing guest, Jared Vaughan, is your man. That’s why I called you. I think he’s your sniper.”
I moved Rayner further down the corridor, away from the flurry of people at the crime scene. “You’ve got my attention,” I said.
“This is all a bit sketchy right now, so bear with me. Vaughan has a dead body in his hotel room and he’s nowhere to be seen. I spoke with reception, and they confirmed he checked in a few hours after the shooting of Ben Drummond in Leicester Square. I’ve spoken to his wife, and she confirmed he hasn’t been home for the last few days. Seems they had a bit of a domestic, if you know what I mean. She couldn’t tell me his movements for the last few days. What she could tell me, though, was that until eighteen months ago Vaughan was a Royal Marine. I’m getting some images from the hotel’s CCTV. We should have a face we can match to his military record in no time.” Rayner had a big smile on his face.
“Is that it? Bloody paper thin, isn’t it? I thought the way you were talking you’d smashed the case wide open. I hope you’ve got more than that.” I was tired, and I was far too frustrated with this investigation for Rayner to be pissing around.
Rayner pretended to look hurt. “Of course I have. I was saving the best for last. What do you think Vaughan’s specialism was in the Marines?”
I had no problem guessing. “When was your sniper last seen?”
“We’re going to have to go over local CCTV footage to work that out, too. We’re also trying to get hold of the night manager and night receptionist. They went home before we arrived.”
“That’s bloody handy.”
“I know. It’s all a bit of a mess right now, but I think we just got our first break.”
I thought about my conversation with Olsen and how anyone associated with this investigation might be in the firing line. Was the dead guy back in the room a loose end? Was that why he was dead? “Who else knows about this?”
“No one. As far as anyone else is concerned, the dead giant back there could be just another dead pimp or dealer.”
“I need you to keep it that way. And I need you to watch your back.”
Rayner was excited and feeling invincible, the way he sometimes did. “Always do – when I’m not watching your back, that is.” He laughed and slapped my back.
“I’m serious. If this Jared Vaughan is our man, then we’re closing in on him and the others behind these killings. I’m telling you, you need to watch your back.” It had been a while since Rayner had seen me so on edge.
“Okay, okay. Friends in high places – I’ve got it.” He was finding it hard to contain his excitement, but he could see I was serious.
“What’s the address for Vaughan’s wife? I want to speak to her today.” Rayner copied down the address from his notes and handed it to me. “Call me as soon as you know the identity of that lump lying dead back there. Hopefully, that’ll help us figure out why Vaughan killed him. And I do believe Vaughan killed him. The only question is why he killed him. Why were they fighting? Was he Vaughan’s partner? Was he a loose end? Did they argue over money? Why leave the body for us to find?
“If Vaughan is the shooter, then why has he made no effort to cover his tracks here? Is he sending a message? What does Vaughan’s wife know? Is she going to be straight with me or lead me around in circles for a while?” I was talking to myself now, the way I sometimes did when I had more questions than answers.
Rayner watched me and smiled to himself. He was probably imagining the puzzle pieces trying to align themselves in my brain as I tried to work out where they all fit.
“If you want to catch a killer, it helps to think like a killer,” I said to him by way of explanation.
Trouble is, that often leads you to very dark and uncomfortable places.
Chapter Forty
I had no idea I was being watched. The hotel car park was full, so I’d parked a few metres away in a side road. For my shadow, that was a stroke of luck.
I left the hotel and walked the short distance to my car. It was mild out, and after the stale air of the overheated hotel the fresh air felt good.
He waited until I unlocked the car and got in. He sprinted the short distance to the car, threw open the back door and got in directly behind me. He pressed a gun to my head.
“Don’t do anything stupid. Just start the car and drive.” He pushed the end of the gun hard into the side of my head again to let me know he was serious. “Start moving the car now or I will blow your fucking brains out.”
Whoever it was wanted something. If that weren’t the case, I’d be dead already. I started the car and calmly headed down the one-way street. I checked the rear-view mirror to see if I could get a glimpse of who was behind me. No luck. He’d ducked down behind the seat.
“Which way do you want me to go?”
“Up ahead is a multi-storey car park. Go there and head to the lower floor. People don’t like to walk, so there are usually spaces furthest away from the lift.”
I did as I was told. “Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?” I asked solemnly.
“Just drive. Take a right up here and the car park is up on the left side. There – see it?”
“I see it.” We drove in silence for a few minutes as I followed instructions. Eventually we parked on the bottom floor, in a quiet area, well away from the stairs and the lifts. I kept my hands on the steering wheel. We sat quietly for another short while, but I knew I needed to engage with my passenger. “You know, I don’t have any change for the ticket machine. If you have any change on you, now would be a good time hand it over. Perhaps you could just drop it on the front seat beside me. And if you’re going to confess to any criminal activity, could you do it quickly? These London car parks are daylight robbery.”
“Detective James Hardy, the comedian. Who would have guessed? Instead of thinking up crap jokes, you should be thinking about whether your brains will soon be all over your lap.”
I relaxed a little. Unless I was very wrong, I was in no imminent danger. The tone of this guy’s voice didn’t imply he was an out-of-control junkie or angry and looking to hurt someone. In fact, he sounded calm and in control.
“It’s my guess you’re not going to kill me, or at least not right away. So how about you lower the gun a little and let’s talk?”
“You really have got some balls. You know, I’ve read up on you. You’ve really seen some sick stuff. If the devil is real, I figure you’ve met him more than once. What one human being will do to another for pleasure, self-gratification or to simply stay ahead of the game is sickening. Ever wondered why that is? Ever wondered what makes us do the evil things we do? I think everything comes back to fear.”
“I think about it every day. You’re right; fear is one trigger, I suppose. Fear of a father’s hand. Fear of repeating mistakes. Self-preservation can be motivated by fear. Addicts fear they’ll never get the same high they had their first time. Fear of loss.” The man had moved into my line of vision in the rear-view mirror, and I noticed the slightest flicker in his eyes.
I turned in my seat and looked at the man, who was now pressed against the corner of the back seat. Jared Vaughan’s eyes were bloodshot and his face pale and bruised. His top lip was swollen and crusted with dried blood.
“I know loss,” I said. “I’ve lost good friends and family. Loved ones. The pain can be unbearable at times, and it never really leaves us. It simply l
essens until it’s bearable. We learn to live with it. Sometimes we cherish it. It becomes the reminder of the one we lost. The only remaining emotional connection.”
“But what if you could prevent it? What if you could stop it from happening? How far would you go, James Hardy? How far would you have gone to prevent your wife’s murder? Would you have killed someone the world is better off without?”
“No,” I said. I tried to sound convincing.
“Bullshit. I can see it in your eyes. I see the hate you carry for the man who did it. You’re no different to me, and I think you know it. I know you would have killed him without hesitation. If you’d known ahead of time, you would have cut out that fucker’s heart. Think about it: Alice and Faith – he took away their mother. No man would allow that given the choice. Especially a man like you. Don’t lie to me. You and I are the same: we do what we must to protect our family. They’re all that matters – so don’t you fucking lie to me. Don’t you dare.”
Chapter Forty-One
A Toyota Prius moved slowly past and parked a few spaces away. We watched as a mother dragged a pushchair from the boot then strapped her young child into it. Carefully, she tucked a soft blanket around the child’s legs then looked left and right before deciding on the best route out of the car park. I was keen to keep the focus on the here and now and to sustain the conversation.
“Why are we here? Why like this? You could have just picked up the phone if you’d wanted to talk.”
“Why not? It’s good to get up close and look a person in the eye.”
“But why take the risk? My guess, Jared Vaughan, is that you’re out of your depth and need help.”
“So you guessed who I am. I won’t applaud.” I could see alarm in his eyes; it contrasted sharply with the lack of concern his demeanour suggested.
“Hand me the gun, and I can protect you.” Vaughan ignored my request and looked around to check we were still alone. I decided to push my luck a little more.
“How did a decorated Royal Marine like yourself end up where you are right now?” I had no idea whether Vaughan had been decorated but pressed on regardless. I needed to get the conversation moving in a new direction. “Afghanistan, I presume. I have a brother who served there. He didn’t say much more than that it was hell. He lost good friends, and even more friends came home either psychologically or physically damaged.”
“Enough!” barked Vaughan. “The bastards tried to kill me in my bed. My little girl is dying; I did what they wanted and they tried to kill me. Don’t you get it?”
“Tell me,” I spoke calmly. “You tell me, and I can help you.”
“Listen, I am not giving any names. If I do that, they’ll kill my family too. I need you to understand I was set up from the very start. They squeezed me. They squeezed me so tight. They knew I’d do what I had to to save her. Every single day I think of nothing but saving her.”
“Who squeezed you?” I could see pain in Vaughan’s eyes. His body language spoke of a man trapped. A man looking for answers, for an exit strategy, and knowing he had neither.
“The deaths are about influencing public opinion. As far as I can make out, I was used so government can push through their legislation. Despite what they say publicly, there are some in government who want war. Probably so they can line their pockets from oil or trading weapons. I don’t know and I don’t care.”
“Do you have proof of any of this?”
“Of course not. And do you really think any of this would ever make it to a courtroom? What planet are you on? Those set to make their millions from the deals, in this country and abroad, would never allow it. You and I both know I’m a dead man.”
“You need to hand yourself in. We’ll look after you and your family. You have my word.”
“Your word means nothing. They can’t risk me talking. My only option is to finish what I started, get paid and disappear.”
“So why are we here? If you’re looking for me to console you, agree that you have no choice, then you’re going to be disappointed.”
Vaughan sighed heavily, the frustration apparent on his face. “Is your brother really a marine?”
“Yep. And my father was a Scotland Yard copper like me. I guess looking out for others is in the blood. You either have it or you don’t.”
“Sounds like one big happy family.”
I decided to test a theory. “What about my daughter? You scared her half to death with your stunt. Live ammunition, a sniper’s bullet, in a child’s school bag is a step too far.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Vaughan.
“Only a coward would threaten a child. If you have a problem with me, you come at me, not my family. If you come near my children again it will be the last thing you ever do.”
I could hear genuine anger in Vaughan’s voice. “I never went near your children. I wouldn’t do that. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I studied Vaughan for a moment. “So if it wasn’t you, then who?”
“Who the hell do you think? These people will stop at nothing. You’re being used as much as I am.”
I needed Vaughan to realise his only option was to work with me. He was a self-reliant man. Right now, though, I sensed he trusted no one. “I don’t see you have many options. You could leave, finish the kill list and collect the money. You’ll probably wind up dead. Most likely at the hands of your friends; they won’t make the same mistake next time. Next time, they’ll come at you with greater force.
“Or you’ll be tracked down and shot dead by a police marksman in some sort of standoff.
“You could run, spend a lifetime looking over your shoulder and sleeping with one eye open. Alternatively, you help me bring down those who put you where you are now. I can guarantee it won’t end well for you. Life in prison is the best-case scenario, but you might save your family. And you’ll get to see your daughter grow up. The choice is yours.”
“Nice try, detective.” Vaughan got out of the car and then leaned back in. “But it’s too late. I’ll be in touch.” He thrust the pistol into his jacket pocket and walked away.
I watched as he disappeared through the car park. I had mixed feelings. I wanted to tell him it was never too late, but I wasn’t sure that was true.
Chapter Forty-Two
It wasn’t the first time she’d played away. There had been other times. The first time was just before they were married. They’d been engaged for seven months when he discovered she was screwing the DJ who was booked to do the disco for their wedding reception. He seemed a nice enough bloke and was very apologetic. He explained that it was usually the bridesmaids, not the bride, he fooled around with. It was a perk of the job. After all, the money was lousy and the hours unsociable. Cutler never did get the deposit back.
At the time, Melanie explained it as pre-wedding nerves. The fear of committing to one person for the remainder. Deep down, he’d known it wouldn’t be the last time. Melanie was an attention-seeker. She liked the limelight; she liked the thrill of the chase. Of course, it never lasted. They’d enjoy her for a while, and why not? But eventually they’d see her for what she was.
Cutler watched the pair of them outside the Premier Inn, his wife and Mr Flexi-Fun, her fitness instructor, whose real name was Patrick Hicks. They’d been visiting the hotel for several months. Melanie looked so happy. It had been a long time since he’d seen her smile like that. A full head-back laugh as well. It even made him smile as he watched her. Not so fun to watch when Mr Flexi-Fun squeezed her butt, though. She wasn’t even trying to hide her infidelity as they disappeared inside the hotel. No shame.
Cutler took out his tuna sandwiches and kettle chips and began pondering the problem while he ate. Killing her was out of the question. Besides the fact that he loved her, despite her failings as a loyal wife, it would bring down a lot of attention he wouldn’t welcome. The last thing he needed was anyone shining a light on their life – and on his life in particular.
He needed to be smart. To find a way of sending her the message that this would no longer be tolerated and at the same time remind her how much she meant to him.
Cutler threw the empty lunch packets into the passenger seat footwell and sipped a can of Sprite Lite. He read for a while, a John Grisham he’d picked up at a service station. After a couple of hours, the lovers resurfaced. He watched as they embraced and attempted to go their separate ways. They were laughing and pulling each other back for another and then another kiss. Seemingly unable to leave each other alone. As they embraced one last time and kissed passionately, Cutler noticed Hicks’s eyes follow a young woman leaving the hotel. She was pulling a suitcase behind her and he was checking her out.
Even while he’s in the arms of another man’s wife he’s looking over another piece of skirt. What a shit this guy is. That does it, Patrick Hicks. You, my friend, have got to go. You’ve got to go permanently and painfully.
And believe it or not, honey, I’m doing you a favour by ridding you of him. Your Romeo is not what you think he is, and I’ll prove it to you.
Chapter Forty-Three
He breezed through the front door and immediately sensed something was wrong. The house was too quiet. Cutler walked to the kitchen and put a bouquet of summer flowers and a packet of jelly sweets on the table. He picked up the note from Melanie. He only needed to read the first line to know what it was about.
