‘I need to be back there tomorrow morning, though,’ Caelan said, knowing she was going to disappoint them. ‘I’ll have to leave before five, but I wanted to see you. I’m going away for a bit and I won’t be able to call.’
Caelan had never told her parents exactly what her job entailed, but she knew they had probably figured it out. Most police officers didn’t work nine to five, but they didn’t disappear for months on end without a word either.
‘You can’t stay?’ Her mum pouted. ‘But we haven’t seen you for ages.’
‘I know. I’m sorry.’ Caelan bit into the cake to avoid having to say more.
‘It’s Sophie’s Christmas play tomorrow – if you stay, you could come to watch it with us.’
Caelan chewed, swallowed. ‘I’d love to, but…’ Sophie was at school already? In Caelan’s mind, her niece was still a baby. She got to her feet, still holding her plate, and went over to examine the framed photographs that stood on the fireplace. Her parents on their wedding day, one of herself in a party dress with pigtails and a shy smile. Andrew stood beside her, a huge grin displaying his missing his top teeth. She picked up another photograph, this one of her brother and his family – Andrew holding Sophie’s hand while his wife Jen cradled their other daughter, only a few hours old.
‘Eleanor’s walking now,’ Caelan’s mum said, coming to stand beside her.
Caelan stared at the baby in the photograph. ‘Already?’
‘She’s ten months old, Caelan,’ her mum said gently. ‘It’s not unusual.’
She put the photograph down. ‘Sorry,’ she said again.
‘The girls would love to see you,’ her mum said. ‘You could stay here for a few days. You know your bedroom’s always ready for you.’
‘You know how busy she is, love,’ Pete said quickly. ‘More criminals in London than there are tourists.’
Caelan knew her mother was right. She didn’t see them enough, couldn’t even phone as much as she wanted to. Her job always got in the way. Now, though… Now that the Met didn’t own her, she would change her ways. Her parents had always been older than those of most people her age, and it was beginning to show. Her mum had been thirty-five when Caelan was born, her dad eight years older, meaning they were now mid sixties and early seventies. When she’d spotted the medication on the coffee table, she’d had a shock. Now she nodded at the pills.
‘What are all these for? Looks like you’re going to open a pharmacy.’
Her dad laughed. ‘The doctor insists we take them. Load of rubbish if you ask me.’
Caelan looked at her mum, who shook her head. ‘Your dad’s in denial, but his blood pressure and cholesterol are too high.’
Pete leant over Caelan and gave his wife’s thigh a playful push. ‘When you bake most days and then force me to eat it, what do you expect?’
Caelan sat back and sipped her coffee, allowing the warmth and comfort of home to soothe her. She would sleep in her childhood bedroom, knowing she was safe, and that she could forget every shitty thing that was part of her work and her life in London.
For the next seven hours, at least.
4
7 December
The bed was warm, the sheet beneath him soft and clean. Ryan Glennister opened his eyes, hours earlier than he usually did, and listened to the deep snores of the man lying beside him. Slowly, cautiously he pulled the duvet away from his body and rolled out of bed. Gathering his clothes, he stepped into the bathroom, washing his face and dressing as quickly and quietly as he could.
Back in the bedroom, he went to the man’s jacket, hanging over the back of the room’s single chair. He slipped his hand into the pockets, found a well-stuffed wallet and a mobile phone. He decided to leave the phone, but the banknotes he bundled together. With another glance at the man in the bed, he crept towards the door.
‘Nice knowing you,’ he said softly, smiling to himself. He stepped into the corridor and trotted downstairs to the hotel’s reception area, remembering to keep his head down. He doubted the man would report the theft to the police. How would he explain who Ryan was or why he’d been in his room? The traces of white powder on the polished desktop would be difficult to explain away, too. No, he wouldn’t go to the police. They never did.
Outside, Ryan hitched his rucksack onto his shoulder, the thick roll of money safe inside his pocket. Where to? He should eat, but first there was a certain other need he had to satisfy, and he knew just the place. Not so long ago, he’d been owned by his dealer, James Mulligan, forced to do the dirty work in return for his addiction being fed. Not anymore. He giggled to himself, revelling in what he’d done. Now he had the power. He was free to make a living any way he wanted – and turning over rich, stupid bastards like the man still snoring his brains out was one of them, though not the most profitable. He imagined Mulligan locked in a cell, ranting to himself, spitting fury but unable to act. He chuckled again, tapped the money in his pocket.
Perfect.
But his skin was beginning to itch, sweat gathering in the small of his back. His stomach felt cavernous, aching and tight at the same time. He needed food, plus his own favourite sustenance.
Ryan began to walk.
5
In the grey morning light, Enfield police station looked as uninspiring as ever. Caelan climbed slowly out of Penrith’s car, Penrith himself hurrying around the vehicle to hover nearby, as though expecting her to change her mind and try to make a run for it. Remembering her conversation with Nicky, she was tempted. She saw Penrith wince as she slammed the door harder than was really necessary. Her parents had insisted on getting up early with her, making sure she had a decent breakfast, filling a flask with coffee. Driving away from the house, both of them in their dressing gowns, waving her off from the doorstep, hadn’t been easy. Now she squinted up at the building and realised she wanted to go straight back up the motorway.
‘Why here?’ she demanded. ‘I thought Mulligan was in Belmarsh?’
‘He was, but he promised to behave himself, so here we are.’ Penrith began to stride across the car park. Caelan hesitated, wondering what the hell she was doing.
Inside, she could see DCI Tim Achebe waiting. His expression was grim, but when he spotted her, he managed a rueful smile.
‘Good to see you again, Caelan.’ He held out his hand and she shook it.
‘And to see you, but not to be back here.’ She folded her arms. ‘Where is he?’
Achebe inclined his head. ‘In the cells. We’re not taking any chances.’
He signalled that they should follow him. ‘They’ll take him into an interview room so you can talk to him.’
‘I’m not sure about this, Tim,’ Caelan said. ‘You’ve spoken to Mulligan. What do you think?’
Achebe blew out his cheeks. ‘Honestly? That we’re crazy to be even considering working with him.’
‘Thanks for the input, Chief Inspector.’ Penrith spoke calmly, but Caelan saw him clench his jaw.
‘Caelan asked.’ Achebe pushed open a set of double doors and stood back to allow them through. ‘I’m not going to lie to her. Mulligan’s stone cold. I don’t think he’d have a problem with his sister being hurt if it meant he was okay.’
‘They’d get to him too,’ Penrith said. ‘He won’t be safe inside, you know that. No one is.’
They reached the area where the cells were located. It was quieter and smelt better than many of the similar blocks Caelan had visited or been locked up in during her career. Then again, it was early. There was plenty of time for the place to be strewn with vomit and worse.
‘He’s in there.’ Achebe pointed with his thumb.
Caelan peered through the observation hatch in the cell door. James Mulligan lay curled on the blue foam mattress of his bunk, his face turned to the wall. The man who’d given the order for her to be shot dead was almost unrecognisable. The smart clothes and sharp haircut were gone. Mulligan looked exhausted, pale and defeated.
Perfect.
&
nbsp; ‘I’ll talk to him in the cell,’ Caelan said quietly. Achebe looked at her.
‘You’re sure?’ He smiled, guessing what she was thinking, also keeping his voice down. ‘The interview rooms aren’t exactly welcoming either, you know.’
‘They’re still not a cell.’ Caelan wanted Mulligan to remember his accommodation at Belmarsh. She’d never been inside the prison, but she knew his cell would have been cramped, airless and probably filthy. ‘Who was his cellmate?’ Maybe it was something else she could use to persuade him to agree to Penrith’s plans. It was predictable, but it might work.
‘The most recent was a geezer called Darrell Cornish.’ Achebe came to stand beside her, peering through the hatch. He stepped back. ‘Darrell has a bit of a temper – beat some bloke in a pub half to death because he bumped into Mrs Cornish on his way back from the fruit machine.’
‘Nice.’
‘Made a change from Darrell hitting her, anyway.’
‘Sounds like she’ll get a nice long break from him now, though?’
Achebe grinned. ‘Yeah, about six years.’
Caelan waited for the door to be unlocked, then stepped inside, pushing it closed behind her. Even though she had shut the door herself and could knock and walk out any time she wanted, knowing she was now locked inside still made the flesh on the back of her neck creep. How anyone could survive a lengthy jail sentence, she had no idea. She had never been asked to go undercover inside a prison, though colleagues had. She hoped she never would be.
Except you don’t work for them anymore, she told herself. She stood silently, waiting.
‘What do you want, Achebe?’ Mulligan said. ‘I’ve told you, I’m not playing your games.’ He didn’t get up, didn’t even turn his head. Caelan slipped her hands into her trouser pockets and relaxed her shoulders.
‘Good to see you again, James,’ she said.
He froze for a second but covered it well, unfurling his body and sitting on the edge of the bunk. His hands dangled between his knees and he linked his fingers as he looked up at her with a mocking grin.
‘You. Hello, princess. My man definitely missed, then?’
Caelan smiled back. ‘You know he did.’ He hadn’t even fired the shot.
Mulligan turned his mouth down at the corners. Sad face. ‘I never could get the staff.’
‘I feel sorry for you.’
‘I’m sure, but don’t bother yourself too much. I’m banged up while you can go on your merry way, cosying up to people, lying to their faces.’ His expression hardened. ‘I don’t know how you sleep at night.’
‘Pretty well.’ She was lying, but he didn’t need to know that. ‘Compared to some, I’ve not done much to worry about. I’ve never trafficked people, for example.’
He smirked. ‘Aye, very good. You know, I bet there are a lot of criminals who’d love to know who you really are. Where you live.’ He licked his lips. ‘What you look like in the shower.’
She laughed at him. ‘Is that the best you can do? I’m not the one who’s going to be worrying about having a shower, James.’
‘Yeah, yeah, big men coming for me when my trousers are down. What a fucking cliché. Is that the worst threat you’ve got?’ He sneered. ‘They wouldn’t dare.’
‘Because what, they’re scared of you? From what I’ve heard, you’ve already been beaten up more times than you’ve had lukewarm shitty dinners.’
Mulligan winked. ‘Don’t believe everything you hear.’
‘Is that bruising under your eye, or make-up? Either way, purple’s not your colour.’ She looked him up and down, curled her lip. ‘Looking good, by the way.’
He made a gun from his fingers and pointed it at her. ‘If only Andri had been quicker.’
She smiled, enjoying the exchange. ‘You’d just be looking at more jail time than you already are. But then you wouldn’t be worried, would you? Not when prison is such a breeze.’
‘It won’t work, you know.’ Mulligan ran his hand through his hair, leaving it standing up in greasy spikes. ‘I’m not doing it.’
Caelan folded her arms. ‘As you’ve already said, several times.’
He shook his head. ‘Just trying to give you fair warning. If you’ve come in here to try to persuade me to do what they’re asking, you may as well leave now.’
She leant against the wall, watching him through half-closed eyes. ‘You offered me a job. Told me I had guts. Said you admired me.’
‘I didn’t know who you were then. What you are.’ He spat on the floor. ‘One of them.’
‘You said you’d co-operate. Three quick years in an open prison, instead of…’ She looked around pointedly. ‘Instead of twenty-five banged up in the worst shitholes in the country.’
He turned away, pulled up his legs and lay down, facing the wall again. ‘You don’t get it, do you?’
‘Get what?’
‘You can threaten me with whatever you like, but you have to do everything by the book. Keep records. You think there aren’t coppers in the force who’d sell information like that? If I’m part of what your bosses are planning, and I’m found out, I’ll be killed very, very slowly. They’ll break every bone I have, and that’ll just be for starters. They’ll strip my skin, burn me, cut me. The people I’m talking about are the real deal. They’ll do anything to anyone.’
‘And you were working with them. You provided young women for them to play with, and now suddenly you’re shit scared? Know a thing or two about torture yourself, don’t you, James?’ Caelan’s tone hadn’t changed, but it was a struggle to rein her temper in.
‘I didn’t…’ Mulligan swallowed, shook his head. ‘That was business. This is—’
‘Yeah, feels different when it’s your own worthless hide we’re talking about, doesn’t it?’ She took a step towards him, just one. He raised his head, sneering at her.
‘You’ve no idea what you’re talking about, who you’re suggesting dealing with. Believe me, it isn’t worth it. If they ever even suspected you were police…’
She gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes. ‘I get it. It’d be bad.’
‘Bad. You think?’ He closed his eyes, making a pillow for his head from his hands.
‘Whatever images you have in your head, visualise your sister in my place, because that’s what they’re threatening.’
‘Only if I talk. If I don’t, they’ll leave her alone.’
‘Come on, James, you know it doesn’t work like that. As soon as they realise what she can do, they’ll grab her, make her do whatever they want. With her skills, she’s a criminal’s dream.’
Slowly he pushed himself into a sitting position. His expression was difficult to interpret – cunning, sly, but she could see fear there too.
‘Say I was to agree, say I paraded you around London as my new bit of fluff—’
‘I’m flattered.’
‘Don’t be. I’ll give you a list of my conditions, and you can go and tell them my terms, then we’ll talk again. Fair?’
‘Not really, but let’s pretend you have some power at least.’
He laughed. ‘You know I do.’
‘You don’t. We could do this without you. I fooled you, didn’t I? Had you scurrying around wanting to buy from me? I could do the same to all your dodgy mates as well.’ Caelan spoke with a bravado she didn’t feel.
Mulligan scowled. ‘Not for long. If I’d checked you out before the meeting, I’d have seen through you straight away.’
‘I’m sure. Tell me what you want, Mulligan.’
‘I don’t want to serve another day in prison. Not now, not ever. Lifelong immunity, whatever I do.’
She raised an eyebrow, shook her head. ‘Well, you can forget that one. What else?’
‘It’s not much to ask.’
‘Not much? I saw you kill someone. You think that’ll be ignored?’
‘Why not? He was a wee shitebag. Who’s going to miss him?’
‘What else?’
‘I call t
he shots. You do what I tell you to do. My world, my contacts, my rules.’
‘Again, forget it. Anything else?’
He met her eyes. ‘You sleep in my bed.’ He licked his lips. ‘I won’t touch you. Promise.’
Caelan pretended to consider it. ‘I could manage that, as long as you slept elsewhere. Mars, maybe.’
‘Funny. You sleep with me. Going to look weird otherwise, isn’t it?’
‘Weird? Who to? Do you have an audience in your bedroom?’
He tried to bat his eyelashes at her. ‘It could be arranged.’
‘I’m leaving in ten seconds. If there’s anything else, make it quick.’
‘That what you say to all your boyfriends?’
‘Eight seconds.’
‘My sister goes into one of your safe houses and stays there.’
Caelan tipped her head to the side. ‘You do care, after all. How sweet.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘I don’t want her to be used. Not by you, and not by the fuckers pulling your strings. And not by…’ He pressed his lips together.
‘Careful, James. You nearly mentioned a name.’ She rested her hand on the cell door. ‘Then you’ll do it?’
He hunched his shoulders. ‘Tell them what I want, especially the immunity. Then we’ll talk.’
Caelan looked into his eyes, then nodded and turned away.
In the corridor outside, Penrith, Achebe and Somerville were waiting.
‘Well?’ Penrith couldn’t stand still. Caelan shrugged.
‘He’ll think about it.’
6
Ninety minutes later, Caelan got off the Underground at Westminster and walked down Victoria Embankment. She wore her thickest winter coat, but a bitter wind cut through it, chilling her body and numbing her face. She glanced at the London Eye, rotating slowly on the opposite bank of the Thames, wondering how many tourists were braving the freezing London streets. She was already wishing she was back in Ewan’s house in Wales as Big Ben chimed eleven o’clock.
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