Your Life or Mine

by Vicki Bradley

  ‘Morning,’ Philip said, and then turned back to the frying pan. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I’m starving. There’s enough for two. It’ll be about five minutes.’

  ‘Thank you, I’ll just go and get ready,’ she said, feeling self-conscious in her dressing gown. She went into the bathroom to freshen up and dress. She peered through the frosted glass again, but all she could see was a grey blur that she guessed was the sky and green blobs, which she took for the treeline.

  Philip was serving up by the time she came back in and she was surprised at how good everything was.

  ‘I worked in the army before the police. You soon get used to cooking fry-ups when you work in the military. Anything else, I’m useless.’

  ‘I can live with a fry-up every day.’ She sat opposite him and tucked in gratefully. Philip sipped his coffee and then ate his food with the precision of a surgeon and Loxton realized that breakfast was a sacred ritual for him.

  ‘How long will we be here for?’ she asked.

  He shrugged his shoulders as he dipped his toast into his fried egg. ‘No idea. Each assignment is different. It’s impossible to say.’

  She nodded, feeling guilty that she was sat here eating breakfast while her teammates were probably rushing around snatching whatever they could on the run.

  ‘This is really good,’ she said appreciatively. ‘I was thinking of going for a walk after I’ve sorted out the dishes.’

  Philip looked up at her, swallowed his food and sipped his coffee. ‘I’m afraid that’s not possible, Alana. We’re not leaving the cottage for the foreseeable. It’s too dangerous. I hope you can understand. This will all be pointless if your cover is blown.’

  ‘But what about just outside, to get some fresh air?’

  ‘Not for now,’ Philip said. ‘The first few days are the most critical. If we’re going to be compromised it will be then. But if you want fifteen firearms officers here within twenty minutes, be my guest.’

  ‘How often has a safe house been compromised?’ she asked.

  ‘On my watch? Never. But there’s always a first time.’

  It was as Loxton suspected. In the cold light of day, this all seemed like a massive overreaction.

  ‘Look, we never normally get a break in our line of work. Why don’t you take the time to catch up on some TV, some reading? And finish your breakfast. You look like you haven’t eaten in weeks.’

  She sighed. It wasn’t his fault; he was just doing his job. And then she thought of all the times people had said that to her in her role as a detective. It felt very different when you were on the other side.

  After she’d washed up, she sat at the kitchen table with another coffee and watched the rain hitting the window. They were all frosted to some degree or another. She wondered if the local residents knew about this place, or if it was a well-kept secret even from them. They must question why a cottage had frosted windows, but then it was deep in the woods, perhaps no one even knew it was here.

  She was used to having her morning coffee with Kowalski, and it made her realize how much she missed him. She couldn’t even call him to see how he was getting on. How the case was going. Anything could be happening while she sat here, waiting it out like a scared animal. She saw a movement reflected in the window and turned around. Philip was stood behind her watching her with a worried look.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ she said.

  ‘Nothing,’ he said.

  ‘Why the face?’ she asked, her mood getting the better of her. Had he heard something outside?

  He sighed as she continued to stare at him. ‘It’s that look in your eye, that’s all.’

  ‘What look?’ she asked.

  ‘The one that tells me you’re going to try to make a break for it. But it isn’t going to help. It’ll just waste resources while we’re out looking for you and distract your team. You need to stay here, where you’re safe.’

  ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ she said.

  He shook his head roughly. ‘You’ve still got that look in your eye. It’ll only be a matter of time.’ He sighed and left the room, leaving her alone. Loxton realized Philip was good at his job – he could read people better than she could. Probably better than they could read themselves.

  Chapter 37

  Saturday 5 February, 04:12

  The silver moonlight from the window cast an eerie light into the room, with the shadows of the window frame throwing bars across her bed, making her feel as if she were in a cage.

  She felt groggy and confused as she remembered where she was. Not at home, but in this strange place. There were noises, shouting, and then Philip burst into her room. Her heart raced and she scrabbled away from him, sitting herself up on the other side of the bed. He leaned over and grabbed her arm, wrenching her from the bed. She realized in horror that she’d followed a complete stranger into the wilderness.

  Then the smell hit her – smoke and burning petrol, acidic in her throat.

  ‘The cottage is on fire. We’ve got to get out.’ Philip dragged her to her feet, his Glock 17 in his other hand. She nodded, staggering towards the door.

  Philip opened it and she was shocked at the smoke in the corridor. She turned back to her bedroom. ‘The window.’ She pointed at it.

  ‘None of the windows open. The front door is our only chance.’ He pulled her back towards the smoky corridor, ducked down and ran towards the living room. She followed suit, keeping her head low.

  The fire was raging in the living room, strongest near the fireplace, and the smell of burning petrol and chemicals was overpowering here. Had they poured petrol down the cottage chimney or were they behind her, somewhere inside the building?

  She felt lightheaded; she could barely breathe. Panic was taking hold, but she pushed it down, trying to rub the black chemical smoke out of her eyes and keep up with Philip.

  ‘When we get out of here, run to the car,’ he said. He pushed the car keys into her hand, then turned to the door, drawing back the bolts and unlocking it. Her coat was by the door and she pulled it on. Inside one of the pockets was her pocketknife – better than nothing.

  Philip flung the door open, which only served to fan the flames in the living room behind them, and the fire leapt higher. The heat on her back was extraordinary as she ran into the cold night air.

  Philip was in front of her, his Glock 17 held out in front of him as he swung it at the treeline, looking for danger. Dark smoke billowed out of the cottage and surrounded them. She couldn’t see anything.

  She knew where the car was, even if she couldn’t see it; they’d parked it just to the right of the cottage. She sprinted to it as she heard a gunshot ring out, and then another. She unlocked the driver’s door and flung it open, getting inside and locking the door behind her.

  Another three gunshots rang out as she turned the engine on. Philip came staggering towards her, his pistol swinging wildly in her direction, and alarm took hold of her for a second.

  His other hand was clamped around a knife protruding from his neck. He sank to his knees and waved the gun at her, as if telling her to get away from him. He fired his gun into the treeline again several times.

  Loxton put the car into reverse, but she couldn’t get near him because he kept firing his pistol. Once he’d emptied the chamber, another knife flew from the treeline, smashing into his neck, this time into the right side. His arm dropped and his face paled horribly. Blood spurted out from his neck at an alarming rate.

  Loxton reversed the car and shielded Philip from the woods. She unlocked the car and leaned across to open the passenger door.

  ‘Get in!’ she shouted.

  He held out the gun to her. She grabbed it and shouted again. ‘Get in, now!’

  His eyes met hers, and she knew it was useless; the blood oozing from his neck meant he’d be dead within a minute. He grimaced and his eyes rolled backwards as he fell onto his side on the ground. A knife hit her window, but it didn’t even leave a scratch, bouncing harmlessly
off the bulletproof glass. She crawled over the passenger seat and saw that he wasn’t breathing. He was dead.

  Another throwing knife hit the window. She had to get out of here. She checked the magazine of the handgun, but it was empty, and her pocketknife wasn’t going to save her. She crawled back into the driver’s seat, slamming the passenger door shut behind her, relieved as the doors automatically locked.

  She slammed her foot on the accelerator, the car skidding with the force forward, and for a horrible moment it careered wildly. She quickly managed to gain control and drive down the lane towards the main road, but then she heard a rhythmic thudding coming from the wheels. They’d been slashed. She had no mobile and the vehicle was slow. Her life was in the balance.

  Chapter 38

  Saturday 5 February, 04:33

  Loxton drove down the A-road, praying that she would be able to lose the attacker. She kept checking her rear-view mirror, but she saw nothing coming out of the lane behind her. Perhaps the killer thought she had a loaded firearm, or they’d parked a distance from the cottage and had been slowed down getting back to their car.

  She tried not to think of Philip. She couldn’t help him now. How had the killer found them so quickly? Had they been followed?

  She saw a petrol station up ahead. Should she risk it? It was four in the morning. There was no one else on the forecourt. She pulled into the station, driving around to the back of the shop so that no one could see her from the road. She pulled up next to an old dented Nissan Micra.

  The teenage attendant appeared a few moments later, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. A frown lined his tired face. ‘You can’t park there. That’s not for the public.’ His voice faltered as he looked at her face, covered in grime and smoke, and he spotted the Glock 17 on the passenger seat. He backed off, putting his hands up.

  She must look a sight in her pyjamas and coat with blood on her hands from when Philip had handed her the firearm. The teenager’s scared eyes didn’t leave the gun.

  She wound down the window. ‘I’m a police officer. I’m not going to hurt you. Please, just give me your mobile. I need to make a call; it’s urgent.’

  The attendant nodded dumbly, pulling out his phone and handing it to her. She could tell he didn’t believe that she was a cop, that he was frightened for his life. She took the mobile and turned slightly from him. He was no threat. She watched the corner of the building to see if any car lights pulled into the forecourt. A few cars passed by, but so far so good, and she sighed with relief.

  No one would be able to see her parked behind the petrol station. There was CCTV here and a witness, and she hoped that would put the killer off pulling into the petrol station to search for her. Hopefully they’d think she’d kept driving.

  She punched in Kowalski’s mobile number. ‘Dominik, I’m in trouble.’

  ‘What’s happened?’ Kowalski’s voice was strained.

  ‘Philip’s been killed and I’m in a petrol station in Kent. The safe house is on fire. I’m driving back to Walworth. I’ll meet you at your favourite café, then we can go back to Walworth station together.’

  ‘Shit,’ Kowalski said. ‘Okay, I’ll see you there.’

  ‘Don’t tell anyone else you’re meeting me there.’ She hated to think of her colleagues in this way, but she was convinced that one of them must at least be selling information to whoever was doing this. ‘I’m in a Nissan Micra, index M409 BNN, in case I never show.’ The teenager’s face dropped; she must have guessed right that it was his car. ‘Tell Winter I’m not going into police protection again. Fuck that. I’m not letting more people get killed because of me.’

  ‘Alana, you need to calm down. We’ll talk to Winter together.’

  ‘I need to get the fuck away from here. Get Kent police to go to the safe house. And I’ll see you at the usual. It should take me three hours max to get there.’ She hung up on him. She didn’t have time to explain things to him. The next few minutes could decide whether she lived or died.

  ‘Give me your car keys,’ she said to the attendant.

  His face was stricken and he didn’t move.

  ‘Give me your keys.’ She held out her hand. He put his hand reluctantly into his pocket and handed her his car keys. She got into the Micra, taking the firearm and his mobile with her.

  She wasn’t going to wait here. The killer had found her, despite her being in police protection. It could be that they’d followed her, but she had a growing suspicion that they had access to police databases, including special protection. They’d got Sarah in the middle of an operation and they’d found her in the safe house within hours. Or they’d somehow bugged her. She checked her coat pockets and inside the top one she never used she found a small black plastic fob-like device. Was it a tracker of some sort? Only other police officers had access to her coat. But then she remembered her door being off the latch. Suspecting someone had been in her flat. Could they have planted it then?

  She took a photo of the device on the boy’s mobile and then threw it out of the car. She wasn’t going to wait for Kent police to arrange a firearms unit to come here to meet her. That could take twenty minutes, and who knew who would get to her first? She was going back to her own police station. Back to her team.

  She wasn’t going to run anymore.

  Chapter 39

  Saturday 5 February, 07:45

  Mamuska was busy, as she hoped it would be. She settled into a corner table at the back of the restaurant and ordered a coffee. Her eyes scanned the room, but everyone seemed legitimate. With her coat buttoned up and her hands hidden in her pockets, no one paid her any special attention, even though she had only pyjamas on underneath her coat and she was barefoot. They were busy chatting or tucking into their food. She watched the door. She’d thought Kowalski would already be here waiting for her, but he was nowhere to be seen.

  Her eyes were blurry; she was so tired. The past few hours seemed like some sort of weird nightmare and she wondered, if she called the cottage, whether she would hear Philip answer and ask her where the hell she had got to. Was she losing her mind? This all seemed so insane. She’d heard of cases like this. Police officers being targeted, hunted down with their houses set alight, always on the run. But that was always organized crime, an unhinged crime boss trying to seek their revenge and intimidate the police. Not serial killers from prison seeming to have an incredible reach, able to pluck officers from surveillance operations or attack them in safe houses.

  Her coffee arrived. She thanked the waitress and waited for her to leave, then used the serviette to wipe away the worst of the blood and dirt from her hands. She took a grateful sip. The coffee was always strong in Mamuska; it was why it was Kowalski’s favourite, as well as the obvious links to back home.

  Where was he? She felt uneasy. What if it hadn’t been Kowalski that had answered his mobile? What if the killer had intercepted his number somehow and replicated his voice? She remembered the synthesizer from the 999 call about Sarah’s body. As crazy as it sounded, she desperately wanted reassurance that it was really Kowalski she’d spoken to and not someone else.

  She pulled out the mobile she’d taken off the kid and scrolled to the last dialled number so she could call Kowalski again and check it was really him. She shook her head in frustration at herself. It wasn’t some sort of trick; it had been Kowalski. She was losing the plot. Though that was no wonder considering what she’d been through.

  Kowalski walked into the café, his eyes frantic until he spotted her. She felt her body relax as she started to feel a bit safer at last. His eyes scanned the crowd and, reassured by what he saw, he strode over to her and wrapped her up in a quick hug and then sat down heavily opposite her. ‘Sorry I’m late. I was liaising with Kent.’

  ‘For three hours?’ she asked. That was how long it had taken her to drive here.

  ‘I knew you’d be a while, and judging from the level of your coffee I’d say I timed it quite well. It was hard to slip out without anyon
e noticing me. If I left too early, they’d have started to wonder what I was up to, and I wanted them all to think you were coming straight to Walworth and not meeting me anywhere else.’

  She couldn’t argue with that, but all the same she felt strangely let down. Her nerves were on edge since the attack. ‘Did they find Philip?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sorry. Kent have got forensics combing the area, but it would help if you could tell them exactly what happened. That way they would know what areas to focus on. They’ve got a vague idea, but they don’t want to miss anything. I know you must be exhausted.’

  She nodded roughly. ‘I’m fine. I’ll call them when we go back in, I just need a minute.’

  ‘Of course,’ Kowalski said. The waitress came over and he ordered a coffee too. ‘When you called and told me what had happened. That you could have been killed…’ He trailed off, his face strained.

  ‘I’m okay,’ she said, not wanting to dwell on how close she’d come to being the next victim. ‘Thanks for meeting me. I’ll feel safer going into the police station with you next to me.’

  ‘You’ll be safe in Walworth.’

  ‘Maybe not, Dominik. Think about it. They left Emma’s body in Camberwell Police Station, missing every CCTV camera in the process. They took Sarah from a police operation and they found me at the safe house. I had this tracker in my top pocket.’ She showed him the photo on her phone. ‘It has to be a police officer.’

  ‘Are you sure that’s a tracker?’ he said. ‘It looks like a fob to a building.’

  ‘I don’t know, but it’s not mine. I left it in Kent to be safe.’

  ‘Winter and Lena talked to me about it being an officer,’ Kowalski said. ‘You forget that Harding broke into Walworth station and hacked into our HR records, but maybe that’s not all he did. Maybe he somehow got access to all our systems. Our addresses were just a diversion. And he was a cleaner in police stations for a few years, with access to them on his own late at night when it’s quiet. Maybe he hacked in a long time ago. Maybe breaking into Walworth was to plant that device in your coat.’