by Tony Kent
‘That’s not how safe houses work,’ Levy replied. She had taken a chair across the table. The two women were alone. Hale had already left for Manchester. Michael was still upstairs. ‘We’ll take you back to Scotland Yard with us. Once there we’ll connect you with the Close Protection Unit. Tom Chadwick has briefed them and they’ve already got Anne Flaherty under their care. They’ll take custody of you and Michael, too, and it’ll be Close Protection who take you to the safe house. No one from my team will know where that is. Not even me.’
‘Why not?’
‘Chinese walls. It’s just safer that way. It means that no one who can be directly linked to your case is capable of finding you. It avoids corruption and coercion, which further guarantees safety.’
Sarah nodded her understanding. The precautions made perfect sense. The fact she now needed them did not.
The two women sat in silence. Both lost in thought. Sarah fingered the glass she had replenished with a further splash of Bushmills. Levy had resorted to water. As comfortable as they had once been, Sarah knew that Michael’s confession had changed everything. Any friendship that had been building had to be set aside.
‘Do you really think Hirst will come after us, Joelle?’ Sarah hesitated as she spoke. Not sure she wanted to hear the honest answer. ‘I mean, now that his name is going to be out there and an entire police force is going to be hunting him? Do you really think he’ll risk it?’
Levy looked at Sarah without speaking, and Sarah could see that she wanted to reassure her. That she wanted to say ‘no’. But lies helped no one in these situations.
Levy reached out and placed her hand onto Sarah’s.
‘I think he will absolutely risk it, yes.’ Levy’s tone was sympathetic but certain. ‘He will come for Michael, for what Michael did to him. The same reason he’ll go after Tina Barker if he can.’
Sarah nodded. It was the answer she had expected but not the one she had hoped for. There was little more she could say.
‘You sure you don’t want one of these?’
Sarah indicated to the pack of cigarettes she had picked up from the table. An uncontroversial effort to break the silence.
‘I’m sure,’ Levy replied as Sarah lit her own. ‘Took me too long to quit last time.’
‘I hear you on that.’
Sarah inhaled deeply. The hit of the nicotine was not enough to calm her completely. But it helped. She exhaled a plume of blue smoke before speaking again.
‘Tell me truthfully: do you really think you can keep us safe?’
‘I was one hundred per cent honest with you a moment ago, Sarah. I knew you wanted to hear something else, but I told you the truth. So please know that what I’m telling you now is also what I believe to be the truth.’
‘I know that.’
‘Good. Because the answer’s yes. I do think we can keep you and your family safe. It’s just a matter of time until we find Hirst. He’s got nowhere to run from here. By tomorrow morning his face will be on the front page of every national newspaper. On every news website in Europe. It won’t take us long to catch him, and once we do then this is over for you. In the meantime you’ll be under the protection of one of the best security teams on the planet, in a location Hirst can’t possibly find. You’re safe. You, Michael and Anne.’
Sarah listened carefully. Levy seemed confident, she thought. And Sarah already knew that she was more than capable. Her own research into the case had included looking into Levy, which had told her much about the DCI’s meteoric career at Scotland Yard. It had told her far less about Levy’s eight years in Israel, but the silence that followed the open record of her first two years in the Israel Defense Forces could mean one of only two things.
Mossad or Shin Bet.
Either way, a different proposition for Hirst to take on than elderly ex-lawyers or, God help him, Derek Reid, Sarah thought.
Levy was right. Hirst would come after them. But his chances of reaching them – of getting past Levy, let alone her full team – had fallen to none.
Reassured, Sarah’s thoughts turned to the future.
‘And what about Michael?’ She flicked the ash from her cigarette as she spoke. ‘Will you really arrest him when this is all over?’
‘I don’t see that I have any choice about that.’ Levy’s voice was quieter now. Almost apologetic. ‘Michael’s admitted a serious, serious crime. I can’t just ignore that.’
‘A crime that put a psychopath behind bars for fourteen years,’ Sarah argued. She could not accept that their troubles would not end with Hirst’s capture. ‘And for something the bastard had actually done. OK, it’s technically perverting the course of justice, but not real justice?’
‘That makes no difference. What Michael did was an abuse of the system. If we allow that then who knows how many innocent people end up in prison.’
‘But if he hadn’t done it, who knows how many people – how many kids – Hirst would have murdered?’
‘That’s not the point, Sarah,’ Levy was firm. ‘A crime is a crime. Michael knows that. He’s accepted that. And once this is all done with he’s going to have to pay for that. It’s just the way it is.’
Sarah opened her mouth to argue further, but the sound of the opening kitchen door stopped her. She glanced up and saw Michael stepping into the garden.
Sarah took a final draw on her cigarette as Michael approached then stubbed it out as he took the heavy seat at the head of the table.
‘Am I interrupting something?’ Michael looked between Sarah and Levy. Neither had spoken since noticing his arrival.
‘No, nothing,’ Sarah answered. Too quickly, she realised.
‘Seriously,’ Michael asked again. ‘What’s wrong? What’s going on?’
‘Really, Michael. It’s nothing.’
Michael raised an eyebrow towards Levy in response to her answer. His disbelief was obvious. But he did not push the subject when he spoke again.
‘OK. None of my business then, I guess.’ Michael turned to fully face Levy. ‘How are things coming with the safe house?’
‘It’s done, Michael. The house has been arranged. The Close Protection Unit are with Anne Flaherty at Scotland Yard. As soon as you and Sarah are with them they’ll take you to the location together.’
‘Not me.’ Michael’s response was simple. Just a statement of fact. ‘I want you to take Sarah and Anne, but I’m not going with them.’
‘You’re what?’ Sarah could not quite believe what she was hearing, causing panic and anger to flare inside her. ‘What do you mean you’re not coming with us?’
Michael looked towards her and – for the first time since discovering Derek Reid’s body – he placed his hand onto hers.
‘I don’t know how else to put it, Sarah. I’m not coming. I want you and Anne safe and there’s no safer place than with Joelle’s people, at least until Hirst is caught. But I can’t go with you. I have to stay.’
‘What the hell are you talking about?!’ Sarah ripped her hand away and sent her chair tumbling against the patio slabs, horrified at what he was saying.
‘Is this because of Derek? Because I didn’t give Joelle Hirst’s name? Michael, please, you can . . . you can . . . blame me for that all you want. God knows I do. Leave me if you can’t forgive me. But you can’t put your life in danger over that. You can’t.’
The thought that Michael might be unable to forgive her for not informing Levy of Hirst’s release – and for what had happened to Derek Reid as a result – would break her heart. But she would suffer that – she would suffer anything – if it kept Michael alive. And so she had meant every painful word she had said.
Michael rose from his seat, but when he spoke his voice was gentle.
‘Sarah, believe me, this has nothing to do with you not giving Hirst’s name to Joelle. Jesus, what difference would that have made? Derek was dead before I ever mentioned Hirst to you. If anything I’m to blame for that; for being too complacent about his imprisonment
. Not you.
‘And I’ve no intention of leaving you. I love you, Sarah. Regardless of whatever happened and whatever happens. Nothing is going to change that. But I still can’t go. I can’t sit in a safe house where I can’t do any good. You’ll be safe whether I’m there or not. Safer, probably; he’s after me, not you. Me being there just puts both of you in more danger. But if I go – if I leave now – then Simon Kash’s trial will collapse. They’ll discharge the jury and they’ll start again, and if they do that then things will never go so well a second time. I can’t do that to Simon. I can’t take away an innocent kid’s best chance at justice.’
‘You’re going to put that boy ahead of your own family?’ Sarah shouted. Her head was reeling at the thought of losing Michael. ‘He can get another lawyer for God’s sake. It’s not like you’re the only one who can save him!’
‘You know I didn’t say that, Sarah. And you know I’d never do that. I—’
‘How the hell else am I supposed to take this?’ she shouted again.
‘Jesus, Sarah!’ Now Michael’s voice was raised. ‘Would you ever stop hearing what you want to hear and just bloody listen!’
Sarah was taken aback. In almost two years she had very rarely raised her voice in an argument. But it was something Michael had never done, and so his shout broke through her anger. It made her consider for the first time how hard this decision must have been for him.
‘I’m all that boy has,’ he continued, now in a gentler tone. ‘I’m all that’s standing between him and a life sentence for a murder he didn’t commit. There is nothing I can do to add to your safety. Nothing. But if I leave Simon Kash now his trial will fall apart, and all the progress we’ve made on the evidence will be gone and probably never achieved again. How can I run, Sarah? How can I run and hide when I know that’s the cost?’
Sarah hated what she was hearing. Both because it left Michael at risk and because she already knew she could not change his mind. One of the traits she most loved about the man was the strength of his convictions. The same strength that was now going to tear him from her.
She sat down heavily as Michael’s argument span through her mind. Back and forth. Right and wrong. She reached out for another cigarette. Another attempt to calm herself before speaking.
‘OK,’ she finally said, having taken time to form her argument. ‘I understand that you think you need to do this. And that Anne and I will be safe. But he could get near you. They can’t protect you if you insist on putting yourself out there.’
Michael smiled sadly.
‘I can’t let that stop me from doing what I have to do. Believe me, sweetheart, if you were put in any kind of danger by my decision then I would drop everything and I would run with you. But you’re not. You’re safe. Both of you are safe. Which just leaves me, and if I’m the only one at risk then I can’t abandon Simon Kash. Derek wouldn’t have. Derek would have stayed and he would have fought for the boy. But the boy doesn’t have Derek anymore. The boy has me. And if I do less than Derek would have done – if I run when he would have stayed – then I wouldn’t be the man you thought I was.’
‘Oh screw the man I thought you were, Mikey!’ Sarah could see that he would not be swayed. That his decision was final. Tears stained her cheeks as she fought the inevitable. ‘I’d rather I had a man who hid and lived than one who stayed and died. Screw principles.’
‘You don’t mean that, Sarah. And if I did it, well, you couldn’t live with it any easier than me.’
‘Shouldn’t I at least get the chance to test that? To see if I could live with it? Because it’s a whole lot less final than the alternative.’
Michael smiled again. He reached out with his right hand and placed it gently against Sarah’s tear-stained cheek.
‘Sarah, my mind’s made up. My actions have caused this. What I did. Longman and Derek both died for it. Blunt too. I’ve cost those men their lives. I as good as killed one of the best friends I’ll ever have. That’s a high enough price for others to pay for what I did, isn’t it? We can’t expect Simon Kash to pay it too. We can’t see an innocent kid convicted of murder just so I get to be safe. Can we?’
Sarah was silent.
Michael would do what he felt was right. Sarah knew that. Whether she agreed with it or not was irrelevant. She sat back into her seat and let Michael’s words wash over her. Then, for the first time since Michael had entered the garden, she looked back towards Levy.
‘What do you think, Joelle?’
Levy met Sarah’s gaze. Glanced quickly to Michael. Then back.
‘What do I think?’ Levy took a moment. ‘I think I should have said yes to that cigarette.’
Michael walked into Derek Reid’s kitchen, opened the American-style double fridge and took out a cold bottle of Italian Peroni lager. He popped the top and took a swig, immediately noting the refreshing cold weakness of the drink in comparison to the earlier whiskey.
Now that his mind was settled he no longer needed the kick of the stronger liquor. He knew what he had to do.
The explanation Michael had given to Sarah was honest. But it was not complete. The guilt he still felt for Derek Reid’s death – for all three deaths – was raw. It was something he might never overcome. Only time would tell. But while it was too late to do anything for them, it was not too late for Simon. Michael could not leave him to his fate. That boy was his lifeline, a chance to do something positive. An act of atonement, however small.
He would stay. He would fight. And he would win.
Because that was what Derek would have done.
All of this was true. But there was something else. Something he could not mention to Sarah or to Levy. A much darker decision he had made that required him to stay in plain sight.
Because then Hirst will find me, he thought. And when he does, that fucker’s going to pay for every last thing he’s done.
FIFTY-NINE
Steven Hale reversed his BMW X5 into the space closest to Number 18. It was tight and not exactly where he wanted to be, but it was also the only place left to park. The BMW completed the chain of cars lining the street’s kerb.
Hale stepped out of his car, locked the doors and surveyed his surroundings. First the pavements that ran alongside twelve houses on each side of the street. Then the vehicles that lined both kerbs, looking for any hint that a car was occupied.
All seemed empty except for one, parked four cars ahead of his own.
He reached into his pocket for his identification as he walked towards it, before leaning down to speak to the driver through his open window.
‘Is she in there?’ Hale held open his ID for inspection as he spoke.
‘She is.’
‘Alone?’
‘No, sir.’
‘What’s the layout?’
Hale looked ahead as he spoke, towards a small terrace house that was one of the narrow homes that lined this side of the cobbled street. None of the properties enjoyed a front garden, each front door opening just feet from the roadside.
‘Two bedrooms, sir.’
The speaker was Sergeant Jim Durham of Greater Manchester Police. Durham was sat in the driver’s seat of a marked police car, a second officer beside him. It was a tried and tested element of civilian protection; Durham and his colleague were not here to be inconspicuous. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, their visible presence would be enough.
Durham continued.
‘Both upstairs, with a small bathroom in between. There’s also a small landing at the top of the stairs. Ground floor, it’s the living room, kitchen and a small toilet.’
‘Rear access?’
‘Same as every street round here. There’s a public alleyway that runs at the back of the house. All the gardens have a gate leading into it.’
‘Have we got people back there?’
‘It’s covered, sir.’
‘By how many?’
‘Just the one, sir.’ There was a note of amusement in Durham’s voice
. A hint of a chuckle. ‘Plus two more inside and the two of us right here. All due respect, sir, but I think that’s enough.’
Hale stood up straight, putting a few extra feet between his head and the open car window. He looked around, taking in the geography of the street, a quiet, residential road in Salford, a short distance from Manchester. It had taken Hale over four hours to drive here from Derek Reid’s Islington address. Durham’s security detail had been here even longer. They had secured the address before Hale had left London and had ensured the owner’s safety. So far so good, but there was an image that kept returning to Hale.
Four dead men, slaughtered in a Brixton office.
His mind was made up.
‘I’m afraid we disagree, Sergeant,’ Hale said, his head back level with the open window. ‘I want another man in the house and one more at the back. Within the hour. Make it happen.’
Five minutes later, Hale took a seat at the small kitchen table after carrying out a quick sweep of the house.
Like everything else Hale had seen in those five minutes, the kitchen table was tiny. It had to be to fit into the cramped kitchen. Although a reasonably big man, Hale was no giant, but he felt like one here. Especially in comparison to the room’s other occupant. The woman who sat on the other side of the table seemed so much smaller than him. And she was clearly terrified.
Hale smiled reassuringly at her. Jessica Boon – as Tina Barker was now known, the identity given to her after Hirst’s trial – had been at work when she was visited by Durham and his colleague. They had brought her home in the same police vehicle now parked outside, then left her inside with the three other officers assigned to their team.
Two of those were now in her living room, just a few steps and a sliding door from where she and Hale now sat. The third was in her garden. None had given her a proper explanation for all this, just vague reference to a threat to her safety. Hale could only imagine how frightening that must feel.
‘Jessica,’ he said gently. ‘Have you been told anything about why the other policemen and I are here tonight?’
She gave a slight shake of her head.