Dan looked at the fake Poulter, looked at the tall newcomer and evaluated his own chances of survival without a weapon. Not good. Better than zero, but not by much. And yet there was a chance. The dynamics were changing all the time. And with every step the taller man took, and every drip of sweat rolling down Poulter’s weathered face, there was hope that things might go his way. But if they did, it would have to involve a stroke of luck. And today, luck had been in short supply.
“You know why I’m here, don’t you, Alma?” said the tall man grinning now. There was a bounce to his movements, a swagger, with a proud darkness behind it all. He moved in closer, always one step at a time. Alma didn’t answer. She looked down at Cripps with a hopeless look on her face. Dan watched her willing him to wake up. Cripps waking up now would change the dynamic, would open things up and give them another slight chance. But Cripps’ movements were lethargic. He was definitely coming round, but too slow to be of use. If he woke up now, Cripps would be just another target to be put back down.
“Keep back,” warned Poulter.
The taller man shook his head. “Keep back? Sorry. Not my style.”
Poulter’s gun was shaking worse than ever. Dan wondered if the man could even use it. At first, the fake had held it as if he knew what to do, but he had always looked reluctant. Reluctance combined with his nerves wasn’t going to improve his chances. Now the man seemed to be struggling just to maintain ground in the centre of the room. Dan wondered. Was this the opportunity he was looking for? Trouble was, if the fake Robert Poulter folded too soon – folded before Dan had a chance to make his move, it was inevitable that he would become the tall man’s next target. When that happened, a bullet would be fired, and he would end up dead. But someone here was going to die. Doing nothing was not an option.
Dan looked at both men’s weapons, aimed at one another. He looked at their eyes battling above the guns, and he watched Rob Poulter begin to crumble. Now. Dan snatched a breath and made his move.
Rob Poulter was nearest, so it made sense to go for him first. But only as the first target – because the main danger was the taller man – a fact which was written all over Alma Poulter’s face. Dan charged and Poulter saw him coming too late. The tall man was biding his time as Dan seized Robert Poulter’s shoulder. Poulter gritted his teeth, struggled and looked at Dan with hate and panic gleaming in his eyes. The panic Dan saw was enough to force him to use his gun. As the weak man’s gun turned towards him, Dan changed tack. He’d taken a bullet before. He didn’t intend to take another one so soon. Poulter struggled with him, trying to get his balance right to point the gun at Dan. But Dan stopped struggling with him, pushed his shoulder away instead of pulling, and Poulter slipped away from him. The momentum from the struggle had him staggering, and Dan used the movement to his advantage. The taller man seemed confused by the break in the struggle. At that moment, Dan thrust the fake Poulter’s unbalanced body towards the other gunman. Poulter cried out as he staggered forward, his body pushing past the tall man’s gun, and landing heavily against his chest. All hell broke loose as the fake Poulter and the tall gunman were thrust into a fight for supremacy.
“Alma!” called Dan. The woman looked at Dan, her dark eyes flaring wild and angry. She looked at Cripps down on the floor and hesitated. Dan raced across the room towards her and seized her wrist. She struggled but Dan yanked harder until she looked into his eyes.
“Damn it, this is for your own good!”
She relented, but only barely. Dan thrust her past the two-man brawl which had spilled across the meeting table, leaving the way to the doorway clear. Alma Poulter flung Dan’s arm away from her and broke for the door. She moved so fast, it looked as if she was going to escape.
“Mark!” called Dan.
Mark nodded, his eyes on the melee as he followed and ran for the door. The tall man punched Poulter in the face and looked up from the brawl with a look of disgust.
“Alma!” he snarled, before a reply punch from the smaller man caught him square and dragged him back into the fight.
As soon as Mark was out into the corridor, they made after Alma in the narrow circular corridor. By the time they caught up with her, she was back in her old room where she turned to face them, her face full of stress and adrenaline. Dan’s eyes slipped down to the single divan bed behind her. The drawer had been stuffed back into place but her long thin hands were empty at her side. She had been alone for no more than fifteen or twenty seconds. It was enough to get up to something, but there was no time to consider what.
“You don’t know what’s going on here. You have no idea,” she said, in a warning tone.
“No, I don’t. But I know you’re going to tell me all about it. Let’s get out of here now.”
“What? Tell me one good reason why should I go anywhere with you?” she said.
“One good reason? How about this. Because if you don’t, in about ten seconds one of those arseholes is going to come looking for you with a gun, and I don’t think you’re going to like it. It’s your choice, Alma, either way, but we’re leaving.”
The woman cast a moody look at them before she pushed past them back into the hallway.
“I guess that means she’s coming with us,” said Dan.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” said Mark. “My face is still hurting.”
“Until we know what’s happening, she stays with us,” said Dan.
Mark followed Dan out of Alma’s bedroom, and they chased after her. The level of noise, thuds and shouts from the meeting room told them they had a little time left.
The tall man’s nose was bloodied but his eyes were bright. He lifted his head away from the fight and turned his ear to the door. He listened to them running and a moment later heard the slam of a door. He grimaced as he heard the metallic creak of the big gate outside. But he was so busy listening, the man beneath him drove a punch up at his chin. The tall man dodged it, but the nervy little man beneath him was deceptively feisty. He fought like a dog. He wouldn’t give up. The tall man leaned over him, gleaming silver gun in one hand, his other hand balled into a fist, ready to strike. Poulter saw his life was in the balance. He read the runes – one punch followed by a shot to the head. So he raised his own gun and aimed at the tall man’s gun hand. He aimed at the fingers around the pistol, or maybe his wrist, knowing it would be messy, knowing it would hurt his ears, but he wanted to live. The tall man saw it coming. He pulled away, fast and desperate, dragging his whole body up and away. But Poulter struggled on to grab at the gun. The tall man growled in frustration and thumped Poulter full in the face. But there was still strength in him as he fell. The fake clawed at the tall man’s gun, his self-preservation instinct still going strong, and the silver gun slipped from the tall man’s hand and fell to rest on the carpet. The tall man’s eyes flared. He’d endured enough. The tall man and the fake looked at one another, and the taller man made his decision. He leaned into Poulter, and struck him as hard as he could, knocking him across the table until he collapsed in a heap beside Cripps. The tall man bent and retrieved his pistol from the floor. He looked at Rob Poulter, his brow glowering over his eyes. He moved his gun as if to take aim, but thought again, his attention turning to the door behind him. He wiped his nose and gave Poulter a lingering look of warning. Poulter’s gun stayed limp in his hand as the tall man walked away. The meeting room door swung slowly shut behind him. Poulter stayed down on the floor. He gasped for air and listened as the danger slowly faded away. He breathed and looked at the pistol in his hands. He turned it over in his hand and took aim at the ceiling. Just taking aim made him feel a little better. Made him feel like he was back in control. Eventually, when he was calm enough to think, he turned his head to see he was lying beside a man with tattoos on his neck and too much silver jewellery on his hands and face. And as he looked, the tattooed man’s eyes finally flicked open. The man formerly known as Rob Poulter smiled as the stranger blinked at him. Opportunity was knocking. So, he hadn
’t been given a proper brief. And the game kept changing. But no matter, he saw he had another chance, and he was going to take it.
Soon enough, the big gate creaked. A door opened and a fresh draught blew through the dusty, circular corridor. Gradually, carefully, Eva Roberts began to pick her way around the The Albany Centre. A few minutes later she found the abandoned bedroom with the near empty milk carton in the handbasin. She noticed the lack of dust and the make-up items on the chest of drawers. She looked at the crumpled duvet on the bed and drew her conclusions about the woman who lived there. But Eva wasn’t tracking Alma Poulter, she was searching for Dan. Slowly, Eva stalked around the dusty, dark corridor until she reached the door of the central meeting room. The door was still ajar, and Eva began to edge inside. The room seemed to carry something on the air. Something more than the usual dust and must. Eva tensed as she walked in, worried at what she would find. The room was a complete and thorough shambles. There were a few chairs upended and laying on their sides, others had been tossed aside completely. There was a strong smell of man-sweat and body odour – there was the warmth that said people had been here very recently. There was even a trace of aftershave on the air. Not Dan’s. These days he rarely bothered with the stuff. There was something clinical, medicinal and old fashioned about the fragrance. Odd. She hadn’t noticed that on Robert Poulter. It was a small and unexpected presence, probably explainable in many ways, so she let it go. The whole place was empty but for the ghosts of plenty of recent action. She knew Dan had certainly been there. She felt it. Eva frowned and looked around in the half light of the derelict room. She walked to the upturned seats and looked at those on their sides and upside down. She saw a scuff of dirty boot prints here and there pressed into the carpet. Standard issue size tens or elevens maybe. Just a dirty outline, nothing more. And then Eva saw the mark of smaller boots. Narrower in width, shorter in length. A woman’s presence recorded in the dust of time. Eva felt a twinge of the uncanny, knowing she was standing close to where their original target had been not long before, she felt certain of it. But there was no one here now. Dan was gone who knew where, and Mark with him. Eva swallowed on another dose of worry and fear. What had happened?
With Lauren’s troubles escalating, the last thing she needed was more uncertainty. She had counted on an easy case to bring home the bacon and keep afloat while she dealt with Lauren and her abuser. Now, it seemed there would be no peace on any front.
Peace. She would have traded anything for that.
But she couldn’t abandon Lauren to her fate and so until it was sorted, she would have to do what she felt was right, and trust Dan to come through, as he always had before. But without Dan’s counsel she felt she was in danger of making an incredible mistake. She felt it coming and tried to push it out of her mind.
Eva’s eyes almost idly tracked across the meeting table until she saw a place where the dust broke and the veneer shone through. And there were other places where patches of light gleamed on the surface. Specks of darkness… and one or two streaks. Eva walked to the table top and took a closer look. The closer she looked, the specks became small streaks and then splashes of blood, still fresh and undried by the passing of time. A cold feeling of panic tried to take hold, but Eva swallowed and worked hard to block it. Dan had survived many threats to his life. He’d been through the prison system, he’d even been shot in the stomach and lived to tell the tale. So where was he now? And whose blood was this?
The panic edged in, trying to slip through the cracks of her thinking.
“He’ll be okay. He’ll call me. He always does.”
And until then? “Stay cool… Stay calm,” she told herself. “And just do what has to be done.”
Eva blinked once more at the blood on the table top and walked away, leaving the room with a feeling of deep unease. She typed a quick text message but as soon as it was sent, she felt no better.
Dan, I’ve been to the Albany. Where are you?
She waited a minute in the dark, but there was no response. The message only seemed to echo in her head.
There was only one thing for it. She would have to go back to the office and wait. All too soon, Eva knew duty would call for her once again. It was unavoidable. And whatever Lauren wanted her to do, Eva dreaded the idea of making that decision alone.
Fourteen
After two hours Eva knew she couldn’t put the woman off any longer. Lauren had sent her a text message to say she’d found something - which should have been good news, but it really didn’t feel like it. Their case needed facts. Facts like the ones hidden in Jamie Blane’s emails. When those emails suddenly became out of reach, Eva couldn’t help wondering if they had ever existed in the first place. And by challenging Lauren to produce more evidence Eva had pushed back against Lauren’s control over the flow of the case. But now Lauren’s text said new evidence had come to light, Eva immediately felt uneasy. Lauren was back in the driving seat all over again. All the same, Eva knew she would do what had to be done. After all, she had given Lauren her word.
The office was still quiet when Eva got ready to leave. There was still no sign of Joanne, Mark, or Dan. Eva locked the door behind her but left the shutters up. Dan would surely be back soon and Mark too. With an unwelcome pang of panic, she remembered the blood on the table at the Albany. The blood flashed into her mind but Eva blinked and forced the sensation away. Before worry could get the better of her, Eva jumped into the Alfa and drove off to look at Lauren’s latest findings.
“So, what have you got?” said Eva.
They met outside the Monsoon store in Basildon’s Eastgate shopping centre. Women of all ages wandered between the racks of dresses, cardigans and skirts, seemingly entranced by the pretty patterns and elegant boho styles. Styles Eva would never wear, but they appealed to her all the same. But most of all she envied them the glazed eyes of the shopper’s trance. Those women were the lucky ones and they didn’t even know it. Theirs was a life Eva had never wanted, but now she wondered what she was missing out on. Lauren looked around the crowds walking along the marble walkways of the mall. Eva followed her eyes as Lauren looked at the balconies of the upper floors and the people teeming on the escalators. Jamie Blane was nowhere in sight, but even so, Eva felt she was beginning to take on the subtle feeling of being watched and the paranoia that went with it.
“Lauren?” said Eva.
“I can’t tell you out here in public. Come on. There’s a bakery in the bus depot. They’ve got seats facing the window. We’ll be able to see anyone and everyone who walks by.”
Eva nodded and they started walking along the ground floor of the mall.
“What did you find?”
Lauren smiled wide. “Something very damning. Something big enough to persuade you that this isn’t all in my head.”
Eva felt a hint of a blush reach her cheeks. “Lauren…”
“It’s okay,” said Lauren. “It’s been a very long time, and yes… we have a past. But I never made any of this up. I took some risks getting hold of this. But if this is what it takes to finally get you fully on board, it’ll be worth it.”
They walked side by side out of the exit doors of Eastgate, into the dirty glass-walled walkway of the bus depot. The place smelt of hot bacon rolls, cheap coffee, exhaust fumes and diesel. Eva glanced down at the hardback novel sticking out of the top of Lauren’s handbag. Something was tucked between the central pages and it didn’t look like a bookmark.
They sat down at the back of the old bakery cafe, watching the queues at the bus stops: the nattering housewives, the trappy teenagers, and the oddballs who travelled the buses for lack of anything else to do with their time.
“I never thought I’d end up like this,” said Lauren. “When I started out with Jamie, I thought I was going up in the world. I thought we would be able to go anywhere and do anything. That was the plan. Now look at me. I skulk around in bus station cafés worrying about my future.”
The woman lifted her sma
ll coffee cup and frowned. The coffee was a thin watery brown affair and served in a hospital style white teacup. It didn’t smell good and the taste was worse. The saving grace was that it was cheap, but that was it. Eva had sipped hers once and decided to leave it at that.
“It’s a temporary situation, Lauren. Just a means to an end.”
A means to an end. The phrase reminded her of something else: Words about the ends justifying the means. An unpleasant, cool sensation came over Eva as Lauren’s inscrutable eyes gleamed at her.
“He is gearing up to kill me, Eva.” Eva listened and waited. This time she needed more than words. Lauren saw the semi-detached look in Eva’s eyes and sighed. She pulled the big blue hardback novel from her bag. It was a Lee Child novel. A navy blue one with a small image of a lone man pictured front and centre. Lauren opened the book wide and took out a slim sheaf of folded A4 sheets. She laid the sheets down on the old Formica table top and slid them across to Eva.
“You wanted evidence. Here it is,” she said, tapping them with her nails. “And let’s be honest. This isn’t just for building leverage, is it, Eva? You wanted this because you still don’t believe me.”
“I’m sorry,” said Eva. “But what you’re asking of me…” There was no other way to say it. “I have to know for sure.”
A flash of resentment lit Lauren’s eyes and Eva couldn’t blame the woman. Even after Lauren said her life was in danger Eva had still cast aspersions over her story. Of course Lauren was angry. Eva knew she would have felt exactly the same.
“This is all you need to see,” she said. “Then it’s time to take action.”
Eva frowned. “Just what is it that you expect me to do?”
“Only what we agreed… Now please, take a look.”
Eva sipped the coffee and flattened out the stack of papers. On the first sheet she saw a print-off of some internet purchases. She narrowed her eyes in confusion and read on regardless.
Cuts Both Ways Page 16
