Ask No Questions

by Hartley, Lisa

  ‘Who was with him?’

  ‘The geezer you mentioned before. Walker.’

  ‘You’re sure?’

  Seddon lifted his shoulders. ‘He called him Glen.’

  Caelan shook her head. ‘Not good enough. We already know Walker used to drink at the Wheatsheaf.’

  Seddon gave a slow, smug smile. ‘Did you know he lived in the flat above it?’

  Caelan’s stomach dropped. She stared at Seddon, more certain than ever that he was telling her what he’d been instructed to.

  ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ He grinned. ‘Didn’t know that, did you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Best get over there.’

  29

  Outside the main entrance to the prison, Caelan turned to look at the buildings. Ewan stood beside her, keys already in his hand. Caelan saw them, smiled.

  ‘Ready to go?’

  ‘Have been since we arrived.’

  In the car, Caelan remembered she didn’t have the phone Beckett had given her.

  ‘Shit. We’ll have to go to my place,’ she told Ewan.

  ‘No problem.’ He accelerated away from the prison, clearly happy to be leaving it behind.

  ‘But it is a problem. I’m supposed to be locked up.’

  ‘What?’

  Caelan explained about the arrest, the subterfuge, Glen Walker’s appearance and the failure to capture him. ‘I need the phone Beckett gave me. She wanted me to report back.’

  ‘And the gun?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, reluctant. ‘I suppose I should have it. I’m not a fan of carrying firearms.’

  ‘It could save your life, especially if you’re going back to the Wheatsheaf.’ He hesitated. ‘Are you?’

  ‘Not without a search warrant and some backup. I’ll report back to Beckett, let her decide. It would be stupid to barge in there again. What did you think about Seddon?’

  Ewan drummed his fingertips on the steering wheel. ‘I don’t trust him.’

  ‘You didn’t think he sounded as though he’d rehearsed what he was going to say?’

  ‘Now you mention it …’

  ‘I don’t even know whether I can trust Beckett. How did Glen Walker know we were on that train? Why did Duncan Seddon sound as though he was playing a role?’

  ‘Because he’s beginning a life sentence and was out for what he could get?’

  Caelan gazed out of the window, unconvinced. ‘Beckett’s told me things I have no way of verifying. She’s been clever, making sure I can’t trust Nasenby, Penrith or Adamson. Even Brady and Achebe are out of bounds now. She’s separated me from everyone I had faith in.’ She glanced at Ewan. ‘Except you. Which makes me think.’

  He gave her a sideways glance. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Why? Why does she insist you come with me everywhere I go?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘To protect me? Or to keep an eye on me?’

  ‘Wait a minute.’ Ewan glared at her, his tone sharper than she had heard before. ‘You wanted me to be with you. From the first time we met, you asked me to tag along.’

  ‘I know. Now I’m wondering whether I was supposed to.’ She studied his profile. His jaw clenched, his frown fierce.

  ‘This is ridiculous. I’m here because you wanted me to be.’

  ‘No, I sent you away. Beckett told you to come back.’

  ‘You sent me away? I’m not your bloody servant, Caelan.’

  ‘No, but you’re Beckett’s.’

  He exhaled. ‘I’m not. I’d never heard of her until you spoke about her.’

  Caelan closed her eyes. ‘Bullshit. She’s an Assistant Commissioner. Stop the car, Ewan.’

  ‘No. I’m supposed to be—’

  ‘What, watching me?’

  ‘Protecting you.’ He mumbled it, and she laughed.

  ‘Are you joking? Do you think I need your help? Stop the car.’

  ‘Fine. Have it your way, but when you’re the next person found dead, it won’t be my fault.’

  ‘I’ll take the risk.’

  Muttering, Ewan yanked the steering wheel, stamped on the brake. To a cacophony of car horns and yelled abuse, he stopped at the side of the road. Caelan climbed out and strode away without looking back.

  * * *

  She ducked into a café, her heart thumping. Had she made a mistake? What would Ewan do? He knew too much, would be able to guess her next move. She knew there was a possibility she was being unreasonable. She had no evidence, no real reason to believe he was working for Beckett. But people around her were dying, and she had no idea who to trust. Seddon had given her a new lead, but without a search warrant, without Beckett’s backing, she was stuck.

  Approaching the counter, she asked for a latte, handing over most of the money she had and taking her drink to a table near the back of the room. She needed to get into her apartment to retrieve her phones and the gun. She had no way of getting in touch with Elizabeth Beckett otherwise, but anyone who wanted to find her would be aware that she would head home eventually. If she didn’t make contact soon, Beckett would no doubt send people to bring her in. And then what? She could be charged with Sam’s murder, be blamed for everything else. She took a mouthful of her drink, her thoughts rampaging. Where to go, who to call? She had no money, no transport. She was stuck in the middle of Woolwich, more than eight miles from home, carrying only her keys, a few coins and a warrant card bearing someone else’s name.

  In other words, she was fucked.

  The café was quiet, the only other customers an elderly couple who sat ignoring each other over cups of tea. The barista was a young woman with tired eyes. As Caelan watched, she removed a bottle of water from under the counter, unscrewed the cap and drank. Caelan knew she had no choice. She finished her coffee and picked up the cup.

  ‘Hi there.’

  The barista took the empty mug, flashed her a wary glance. ‘Hi.’

  Caelan held out the ID Beckett had given her. ‘Do you have a phone I can use, please?’

  Her eyes widened. ‘Of course.’ She moved to the end of the counter, gestured to Caelan. ‘There’s an office in the back, you’re welcome to—’

  Caelan was already by her side. ‘Thank you. Is there another way out of here?’

  A frown. ‘Well, there’s a rear door, but it’s only supposed to be used for deliveries.’

  ‘I’ll need to use it. Thanks.’

  ‘But …’

  Ignoring her, Caelan pushed into the office the girl had mentioned. It was tiny, little more than a cupboard, but there was a phone on the desk as promised. She grabbed the receiver, stabbed at the numbers. Crossed her fingers, hoping she wasn’t making a mistake.

  ‘Another mistake,’ she muttered to herself as the tone changed and the phone began to ring.

  ‘Hello?’

  She took a breath. ‘Listen. I need your help …’

  * * *

  The journey would take him at least forty minutes. Caelan left the café through the delivery entrance, glanced around. She didn’t think she and Ewan had been followed from the prison, but how could she be sure? Anyone watching would go into the café when she didn’t emerge after a reasonable amount of time. It wouldn’t take much detective work to question the barista and follow Caelan’s route. She had to move, but not too far. Where? She had no way of disguising herself, nowhere to hide. She was in a narrow alley that ran behind the row of shops the café was part of. There were industrial bins, piles of rubbish, but nowhere to duck out of sight. Not unless you wanted to stink for weeks.

  She walked to the end of the alley and waited. The road beyond was busy, and Caelan emerged onto a cobbled pavement. She looked around. A car with its engine idling had parked in a bay across the road, and she turned away, her heart rate rocketing. Her enemy was faceless, at least for now, but Beckett had the whole of the Metropolitan Police at her disposal. If she wanted Caelan found, evading capture would be next to impossible. Walke
r had managed it, though. How?

  Caelan had to keep walking. There were no shop windows to pretend to admire here, no reason for her to be standing still. She kept her face averted from the car. Risking a glance behind her after she’d counted thirty steps, she realised it had pulled away. To follow her? It had vanished. Was she imagining threats where none existed? She rubbed her eyes, wishing herself miles away. She should have known, refused to do their bidding. This world was dark and murky, with a thin, vague line between right and wrong. During the Charlie Flynn case, the line had been rubbed away, and was now obliterated. She was alone.

  How long had passed since she’d phoned him? She had no idea. She couldn’t stray too far from their agreed meeting place. She rounded a corner, hoping to double back to the alley. The car she had been suspicious of was coming towards her. She kept walking, her eyes on the pavement. As it shot past, she glanced up, trying to confirm how many people were in the vehicle. She thought two, the driver and a passenger, but it was impossible to be sure.

  Another car, slowing, stopping beside her. She froze.

  ‘Excuse me, love. Any idea where Parry Place is?’ An older man, chubby, his Yorkshire accent reminding Caelan of her grandfather. He stared at her expectantly, and Caelan shook her head.

  ‘Don’t live here, sorry.’

  ‘Don’t live here? No bugger seems to! Never mind.’ He sped away and Caelan told herself to calm down. She was forgetting all she’d been taught – her training, and what she had learnt on the job. Staying calm and in control was a priority. If you didn’t, you risked putting yourself and others in danger. She hadn’t felt so panicked in years.

  Outside the railway station, she huddled close to the wall and kept her head down, hunching her shoulders, attempting to disguise her face. Where the hell was he?

  Eventually, when she was close to giving up hope, a battered car approached and stopped. Caelan hurried over when the driver wound down his window and she saw his face.

  ‘Thank you, Jitesh. You’re a lifesaver. I’m sorry I had to ask you to do this.’

  The young concierge grinned. ‘It’s okay. It’s my job to help, I’m happy to do it.’

  ‘This is above and beyond the call of duty, though.’ Caelan shoved the two phones he’d brought into her jeans pockets. He handed over a jacket, bundled with a scarf.

  ‘The other stuff’s inside,’ he told her.

  ‘Thank you. I promise I’ll explain when I can.’

  ‘No worries.’

  ‘Thanks again. You’d better get back to work.’

  ‘My brother’s covering for me, there’s no hurry.’ He looked at her, worry creasing his face. ‘Take care, okay?’

  ‘I will.’

  He pulled away, and she watched him go, then took out one of the phones again.

  ‘Caelan, where the hell are you?’ Beckett demanded.

  ‘No doubt you know. I’m sure that tracking me via this phone is only too easy.’

  ‘What? What did Seddon say? Could he help us?’

  ‘Yes. He told me that Walker lived above the Wheatsheaf.’

  ‘The Wheatsheaf?’ Beckett paused. ‘I’ll send someone over there.’

  ‘You need to work on your surprised voice. Duncan Seddon could use some acting lessons too.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘You knew what Seddon was going to say, probably wrote the script for him. I’m not sure what game you’re playing, but I’ve had enough. I’m going to drop this phone down a drain and get out of here.’

  Beckett laughed. ‘Now you’re being melodramatic. I’m not playing games, Caelan. I want the truth and you’re the best person to help me find it.’

  ‘Yeah, bullshit. I’m ending the call.’

  ‘Caelan, listen. You’re right – I’ve not been honest with you, but you need to trust me. I’m sending a car for you.’

  ‘Someone else I have to trust?’

  ‘Listen carefully. Ian’s coming for you.’

  Caelan clutched at the phone, shrinking back against the wall. ‘He’s coming for me? What do you mean?’

  ‘Ian Penrith. He’s on his way.’

  ‘Penrith? But I thought—’

  ‘You can trust him. You must. He’ll bring you back here and we’ll discuss our next move. The end is in sight, Caelan.’

  ‘It certainly is. I quit. Goodbye.’

  ‘Caelan, wait—’

  She ended the call, turned off the phone. Her hands shook as she pushed it into her pocket. What was Beckett talking about? Penrith had told her to trust him, and Beckett kept echoing his words. But Caelan didn’t, she couldn’t.

  She scanned the area around her. Beckett hadn’t said where Penrith was, but they had known she had been at the prison, knew she was no longer with Ewan. No doubt he had reported straight back to Beckett. For a second, the world blurred around her. Blindly, she reached for the wall, leant against it. What should she do? If she stayed here, she was a sitting duck. Penrith would find her. There was nowhere to run. She should have asked Jitesh to bring cash, her own ID. He couldn’t have retrieved the gun because it was locked in her safe, and she would never have asked him to anyway. All she had to disguise herself with now was a jacket, a blonde wig and a hat. Penrith wouldn’t be fooled for a moment.

  The car she had seen before was back. Abruptly, it halted. Caelan watched as the driver’s window was wound down. She couldn’t make out a face, only the top of a dark baseball cap. Then … She heard nothing but felt the heat, the rush of air, saw the orange spray of brick dust. Instinct drove her, her body hurrying to catch up with her brain. She flung herself to the side as a second shot embedded itself in the brickwork an inch from her skull.

  She hit the pavement hard, rolled away. The car engine revved as she sprang to her feet. Time stopped as she straightened, frozen by horror.

  He was going to drive straight at her.

  ‘Caelan!’ It was a bellow, off to her left. She turned her head towards the voice as the gunman flung his car into reverse, tyres screeching.

  Ian Penrith was racing towards her, his face red, a gun in his hand. He tackled her, the force of the impact flooring them both. He covered her body with his own, lifted his head, breathing hard. Caelan’s ribs screamed, her palms and knees burning where she’d hit the cobbles for a second time.

  ‘Ian, what the fuck—’

  ‘Shut up and keep your head down,’ Penrith ordered. Caelan closed her eyes, took a breath.

  He heaved himself away and onto his hands and knees. ‘He’s gone. Caelan, he’s gone.’

  Sirens hurrying closer, people spilling in all directions. Penrith reached out a hand, hauled Caelan to her feet. ‘We need to get out of here.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘I’ll explain in the car.’

  He hauled her along by the arm, his eyes constantly searching the area; bundled her into the passenger seat.

  ‘Who was it?’ Caelan managed to ask.

  ‘Didn’t you see?’

  ‘No. He was wearing a hat, pulled down low, a scarf over his face.’

  Penrith gritted his teeth. ‘I’m taking you back to Westminster, to Beckett’s underground lair. The shit’s hit the fan, Caelan.’

  She allowed her head to fall back, closed her eyes. ‘Didn’t that happen when Ronnie Morgan died?’

  ‘Not like this.’

  He pulled out into the traffic. Marked cars were arriving at the scene, officers tumbling out of the vehicles.

  ‘Shouldn’t we have waited?’

  ‘For him to have another pop at you? I thought maybe not.’

  ‘Who was it?’ she asked again.

  ‘Wait until we get back to the office. You can work it out for yourself.’

  Penrith drove as quickly as the heavy traffic would allow. Caelan glanced at him, his hands tight around the steering wheel. He felt her gaze, turned his head.

  ‘Are you okay? You’re making a habit of being shot at.’

  ‘What’s goi
ng on, Ian?’

  He sighed as the car in front of them began to move, released the handbrake. ‘I told you I’ve been doing some investigation.’

  ‘While making a song and dance about me being corrupt? Yes, I remember.’

  He nodded. ‘Which has borne fruit.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Meaning I can guess who killed Charlie Flynn, Ronnie Morgan and Sam Clifton.’

  ‘And Charlie Flynn’s parents?’

  Penrith raised a hand, rubbed his chin. ‘Them too.’

  ‘You’re guessing? Christ, Ian. It’s not like you to be cautious.’

  ‘We have to be, you know that. I don’t have any evidence. If we can’t prove it yet, we have to keep quiet until we can.’

  ‘This is stupid. If you know who did it—’

  Penrith thumped the steering wheel. ‘What? What do you want me to do? Go and bring him in like any other criminal? It won’t work, not this time.’

  ‘Beckett had no problem doing it to me.’

  He sighed. ‘Hardly the same. We knew you weren’t guilty.’

  The sound of a phone ringing filled the car, Beckett’s name appearing on the screen on the dashboard between them.

  ‘Ian? Is Caelan with you? Is she safe?’

  ‘Yes, she’s here. She’s fine.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Beckett didn’t sound glad. She was clearly pissed off, her tone sharp, the words clipped. ‘Why did you send Ewan Davies away, Caelan?’

  She saw no reason to lie. ‘Because I didn’t know if I could trust him.’

  Beckett made a sound of exasperation. ‘He’s one of the few people … Look, never mind. Get back here, quick as you can.’ They heard another voice mumbling and Beckett said, ‘Excuse me a moment.’ There was the murmur of conversation, and Penrith cocked his head, squinting, trying to make out the words. What are they saying? he mouthed at Caelan. She shook her head, as clueless as he was.

  Beckett came back on the line. ‘Okay, change of plan. We think we’ve found him.’

  Penrith was frowning, and Caelan said, ‘Who?’

  ‘The man who shot at you a few minutes ago.’ Beckett was impatient. ‘I want you to go and verify it’s the same car. Shouldn’t take a second, then straight back here. Okay?’