Cautiously she moved into the room, maintaining a distance. ‘Who were you talking to?’
He took another sip of water. ‘No one. I don’t have a phone, remember? The landline’s been disconnected, and they confiscated my mobile when I was first arrested. I told them I’d need it back to make this charade a wee bit more realistic, but they didn’t agree.’
Caelan leant against the worktop, alert and still listening. ‘And you took matters into your own hands?’
Mulligan opened the dishwasher, placed his glass inside. ‘I’ve been supervised since I left the prison, first at Enfield, now here. Where the hell would I have found a phone?’
‘We both know the answer. You brought it with you from the prison. It’s not difficult to get hold of them inside.’
Mulligan inclined his head. ‘Been believing what you read in the tabloids? Shame on you. Anyway, I was searched before I left Belmarsh, and again when I left Enfield.’ He pulled a face. ‘Intimately searched. You know how it is – they delve into all your nooks and crannies.’
‘And?’
‘You know, it’s shocking that you have so little faith in your colleagues. Don’t you think that if I’d had something hidden away I shouldn’t have, they’d have found it?’
‘Depends if you’d bribed them, doesn’t it?’
He looked suitably shocked. ‘As if. If I had given one of Her Majesty’s prison officers a few quid to rummage the other way when they had their finger up my arse, why would I give myself away on my first night of freedom by having a conversation loud enough for my two babysitters to hear?’
Caelan paused. It was a question she’d asked herself on the way down the stairs. Mulligan wasn’t stupid – he might have known he’d be overheard. He could have sent a text silently, and neither she nor Ewan would have been any the wiser. What was his game? Had he wanted to lure her down here? She eyed him – the confident stance: feet apart, arms folded, the hint of a smile on his face. She couldn’t trust him.
‘I’ll ask again,’ she said. ‘Who were you talking to?’
‘Myself. A little habit I picked up in prison. Twenty-three hours a day in your own company tends to have that effect.’
‘You were never in a single cell.’
‘Wasn’t I?’ He smiled. He was casual, unconcerned.
Caelan glanced at the window. Was someone out there? Half of the window was locked, the other side divided into a fixed pane and a smaller section that could be opened but not locked. He could have opened it to have a conversation, or for a contact on the outside to pass something through.
Or he could just be winding her up.
‘Empty your pockets,’ she said. He laughed at her.
‘No way.’
‘Do it, Mulligan.’
‘Are you going to make me? I’m wearing a dressing gown and nothing else, princess. Not much room to hide anything in here. You’re welcome to check, of course.’ He spread his arms as though offering a hug. ‘Feel free.’
She felt more inclined to kick him in the balls. ‘Fine.’ She stepped towards him, noting with satisfaction the panic on his face. ‘But I’ll warn you now, my hands are cold.’
Mulligan stepped back, bumped into the sink unit behind him. ‘You can’t. You have to be the same sex to search someone.’
‘You gave me verbal permission. Or I could call Ewan down. Your choice.’ Caelan moved closer, and Mulligan held up his hands.
‘All right, you win. Fucking hell, you love a power trip, don’t you?’
She glared at him, breathing easier now she knew there was no one else in the room. ‘No more than you do. Where have you stashed it?’
He dug into his dressing gown pocket, held out his hand. On his palm was a tiny mobile phone.
‘Take it. I’ll warn you, though, I’ve lost count of how many arses it’s been inside.’
Caelan wrinkled her nose, keeping her hands by her sides. ‘How about a compromise? If it had been down to me, I’d have given you your own phone back. I agree it would support your story – that you were questioned and released without charge. I’ll have a word, try to get it back for you if you hand that one over. The whole idea is you carry on doing what you were doing before.’
‘Not much of a dealer without a mobile, am I?’
‘Not really.’
He squinted at her. ‘And what do I have to do in return?’
Now she smiled. ‘You only use it when I’m with you. If we’re separated for any reason, the phone stays with me. You tell me who calls and what they want, and sometimes, you let me speak to them.’
‘Won’t work. The people who ring me don’t want to chat.’
‘You think I do? Final offer. I’m supposed to be learning the ropes. You need to let me talk to them.’
He scowled. ‘All right, fine. But don’t blame me if—’
Behind Mulligan, the window shattered, the sound as sudden and shocking in the silence of the night as a gunshot. Instinctively Caelan flung herself at him, the two of them crashing to the ground in a tumble of arms and legs. She pinned him against the cupboards, keeping her head down as a brick skidded across the floor and came to rest near the door. She counted to twenty before disentangling herself, a glance at Mulligan’s terrified face telling her he had no idea what was going on.
‘Stay there, and don’t touch anything,’ she told him as she pulled keys from her pocket and stumbled towards the back door. Ewan appeared in the door from the living room, his eyes widening as he took in the shattered glass and the brick.
‘What the hell’s going on?’
Caelan saw he was already wearing his shoes and pointed outside with her thumb. ‘Can you see if anyone’s out there? I won’t be a second.’
He met her eyes, nodded and ran out of the door. Caelan hesitated, torn between protecting Mulligan and rushing outside herself. Whoever had thrown the brick must still be close by, though she didn’t think Mulligan was in immediate danger. This was a warning. Decision made, she picked her way through the shards of glass glinting against the tiled floor and raced up the stairs. Her bedroom light was off, and she didn’t switch it on. A quick glance out of the window revealed nothing but darkness in the small garden below. She couldn’t see Ewan, or anyone else. As she pushed her feet into her trainers and bent to tie them, her heart seemed to thump in the back of her throat.
Who had thrown the brick? Was it linked to the mystery phone conversation Mulligan had been having? Or to Stefan Harris? If Harris had ordered someone to come and lob a brick through the window, he had moved quickly. From what Mulligan had said, though, it didn’t seem like Harris’s style. The fact that the brick had been thrown as Mulligan was standing there seemed to suggest someone had been watching the house, though she supposed it could have been coincidence. Or perhaps the idea had been to lure Mulligan outside and… what?
She hurtled back downstairs and into the kitchen. Mulligan was still on the floor, still huddled against the cupboard doors. He was wide-eyed, pale, but as Caelan stood over him, he managed a smirk.
‘Knew I should have paid the window cleaner’s bill before I went inside,’ he said.
She couldn’t help laughing, despite the situation. ‘Did you see anyone out there?’
He shook his head. ‘I didn’t look, had my back to the window the whole time I’ve been in here.’
‘Don’t move.’ She glanced at the back door. ‘Has Owen been back?’
Mulligan frowned. ‘Owen?’
She glared at him. ‘That’s what I said.’
He blinked, remembering. ‘No.’
‘You okay?’
‘Fine.’ He waved a hand towards the back door. ‘Just… find out what’s happening?’ He tucked his dressing gown around his legs with a shudder. ‘And, you know. Watch yourself.’
Caelan snorted as she went outside, not believing for a moment that he was actually concerned about her. She had her phone in her pocket but was reluctant to use it as a torch. It was difficult to move
covertly when you were lit up like a Christmas tree.
Standing still, she listened, giving her eyes a few seconds to adjust to the darkness. There was no movement, no sound except the vague hum of traffic, despite the late hour.
She began to move as shapes revealed themselves in the gloom. Bins, a bicycle, a table and four chairs. She stopped again. Nothing.
The surface beneath her feet changed as she moved towards the rear of the garden: decking, then grass. It was long, wet, her trainers soaked in seconds, though the lawn could only have been ten feet square. She could be obliterating any footprints made by whoever had thrown the brick, but she wasn’t concerned. This wouldn’t be a job for their forensics people. Mulligan wasn’t someone who would call the police, no matter what happened to him, and it was vital he keep to his usual patterns of behaviour. They would need to alert Penrith, but she knew he wouldn’t want any fuss either.
In the farthest corner of the garden, a gate was set into the fence. It stood open. Caelan approached with caution, treading lightly. She stepped through into a narrow alley that ran the length of the road, separating the back gardens on Mulligan’s row from those of the houses in the next street. It was dimly lit by three street lamps: one at either end of the alley, and one halfway along. Plenty of shadows, numerous places to hide. Caelan still couldn’t see or hear Ewan, or anyone else, and knew their chances of catching up with whoever had thrown the brick were slim. They could have nipped over the fence of any of the nearby gardens and made their escape well before Ewan had got outside. At least she hadn’t found him in a pool of blood.
Yet.
As she stood deciding which way to run, she saw movement at the end of the alley. Ewan. He held up a hand, began to jog towards her. She met him halfway.
‘Anything?’ she asked in an undertone. They needed to be cautious, because they didn’t know who might be hiding nearby and listening, but she wasn’t worried they’d given themselves away by rushing outside to see what had happened – the people they were pretending to be would surely have done the same.
‘No.’ Ewan’s hands went to his hips. ‘I’ve seen nothing, didn’t hear anyone running away.’ He turned, spread his arms. ‘They could be anywhere. I did hear a car start up nearby, but it might have been coincidence.’
Caelan looked up and down the alley, knowing they were wasting their time. ‘Let’s go back inside.’
She led the way, another thought arriving in her head as she retraced her steps. What if the idea had been to lure her and Ewan out of the house, leaving Mulligan unprotected? He would be the target after all, not them. Anyone who knew how people like him operated would expect him to have some protection. Ewan fitted the bill perfectly, which was why Penrith had decided he should pose as Mulligan’s new muscle man. Fuck. She began to run, Ewan hurrying to catch her up.
‘What is it?’ he said as they sprinted back towards Mulligan’s garden.
Caelan didn’t reply, focusing only on getting back to the house as quickly as possible, her mind still hurtling through motivations for the attack. Mulligan knew all about their operation. What if he had told his contacts on the outside who they really were? Could the attack on the property be intended as a warning to them? She didn’t doubt he would betray them in a second to save himself from a beating, or worse. He might not care about his sister, but he would always make sure to protect himself. Caelan didn’t know him well, but she didn’t need to. He had made his desire for self-preservation unashamedly clear.
Or the phone call had been him calling for help, for rescue. In the second after the brick had hurtled through the window, he had looked so stunned and frightened she hadn’t believed he had been expecting it, but how could she know for sure? He’d admitted to having the phone in his possession whilst in prison. He might have asked a friend to come and lob the brick through the window, then be waiting nearby with a car to spirit him away. Could that explain the engine Ewan had heard?
Mulligan could already be five miles away, on his way to a motorway or airport.
She pounded through the gate and back into the garden, all thoughts of discretion gone. If Penrith could have seen her, he’d have gone ballistic – she wasn’t following protocol. Charging around in the dark like a blindfolded elephant went against normal procedure, but out in the field, events often overtook even the most detailed planning. Part of her brief was always to think on her feet, responding to shifting situations instantaneously, but she also had a responsibility to protect members of the public. In this case, that meant Mulligan, however distasteful the thought.
The back door stood open, as she’d left it. As she crossed the lawn, she cursed herself. She should have locked the door behind her, preventing him from escaping and stopping anyone else getting inside, either to help Mulligan or to hurt him. Stupid. She was behaving like an amateur.
Cautious again now, she sidled up to the back door and peered inside, not allowing herself to dwell on the possibility that he might have done a runner. She had no desire to have to break that news to Penrith. Though surely if he had arranged an escape, he would have scheduled it for the middle of the night. It would make more sense to wait until he could be sure she and Ewan were asleep. She also guessed he would have been wearing something more substantial than a bathrobe. It wasn’t the ideal outfit to do much more than sit around the house in.
‘James?’ she said softly.
No reply.
She stepped into the silent kitchen, Ewan close behind. Immediately she became aware of two things.
Mulligan wasn’t there, and there was blood on the floor.
It wasn’t a huge amount, more a smear, and she told herself not to panic.
‘James?’ she called. ‘Where are you?’ Louder now.
‘Through here.’ His voice came from the living room. He sounded subdued, but at least he was there and able to speak. Caelan headed towards him, again avoiding the glass on the kitchen floor.
Mulligan was standing in the middle of the room, lights blazing, curtains drawn. There was no one else there, and Caelan, who had imagined him being held at knife- or gunpoint, relaxed a little. He had his back to them, and she approached, touched his arm.
‘Are you hurt?’ she asked, her tone business-like.
He turned. He looked unharmed, but she saw he was holding a piece of paper. ‘I heard the letter box clang just as you left the house,’ he told her. ‘Cut my foot on the glass on the kitchen floor as I came rushing in here.’ Caelan glanced down, saw blood staining the toes of his right foot, smudges on the carpet where he’d moved towards the front door.
‘I told you to stay where you were,’ she said.
Mulligan scoffed. ‘Yeah, well I was a sitting duck in there, wasn’t I? Anyway,’ he held out the sheet of paper, ‘this is what they put through the door. I think the brick through the window was just to make sure I was awake and found it.’
Caelan took the sheet, noting the tremble in Mulligan’s hand. Beneath the bravado, he was frightened. It was an A4 page that had been folded in half and then quarters. There was an image, a scanned photograph, printed on it. Two children – a boy and a girl. The boy, several years older, held the handlebars of a bike, while the girl had a football under one arm. Both were beaming at the camera, the girl missing several teeth. Caelan’s stomach dropped.
‘Is this…?’ She didn’t really need to ask. The resemblance between them as children was more obvious than in the adult versions.
‘Me and my sister Lucy.’ Mulligan swallowed audibly. ‘That photograph… She has the original in a frame, on the wall of her bedroom in the house she shares. She sent me a text when she first moved in and told me about it. She always tried to stay in touch, but I thought it best to keep my distance.’ He managed a smile. ‘Seems I was right.’
Caelan knew she had to speak to Penrith. She held out the keys to Ewan. ‘Can you lock up, maybe put the kettle on, please?’
He nodded, took the keys. Mulligan watched as he left the room.
‘What are we going to do?’ he asked.
‘I’m going to speak to my boss. You’re doing nothing.’
He thrust his hands into the pockets of the bathrobe. ‘Bollocks to that. I’ve still got friends out here, you know, friends who can make things happen. Let me make some calls.’
She eyed him. ‘You don’t have a phone, remember?’
‘You didn’t take it.’ He held up a fist, showing her the phone still in his hand. ‘How about we forget you saw it?’
‘How about you go back to prison tonight?’
He took a step towards her, jaw clenched. Caelan didn’t react, didn’t even move, just kept scrolling on her phone. Mulligan stopped in front of her, leant in.
‘You think you can stop me?’
She glanced up, took a step back and drove her foot into the side of his knee. It wasn’t the most vicious kick she could have delivered, but it had the desired effect. Mulligan let out a howl and his leg crumpled, the phone tumbling from his grip as he staggered. He dropped to the floor, scrabbling to retrieve it. Caelan’s foot shot out, pinning his hand to the ground.
‘Don’t fuck me around, James,’ she said, her voice cold. He stared up at her, his expression difficult to read. There was fury there, and frustration. It was understandable. No doubt he was hating every minute of being Penrith’s puppet. Caelan increased the pressure on his hand, all the time knowing she had to get him back onside. Weeks before, when he’d realised she’d fooled him, when he’d been told the woman he thought was going to sell him cocaine was in fact an undercover police officer, he had accepted the fact with a grin and a shrug. Even when he’d given the order to his men to kill her, he’d been matter-of-fact, almost apologetic. Like it was all part of a game he had won, and she would have to accept defeat.
‘Believe it or not, we’re on the same side,’ she told him now.
Veins stood out in his neck as he fought to keep the pain he must be feeling from showing in his expression. ‘Like fuck we are.’
She kept her weight on his fingers. ‘I don’t care about you, it’s true, but I don’t want your sister caught up in the fallout from whatever shit you’ve pulled in the past.’
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