by Jaime Raven
So that was the first problem to confront me. The first unknown.
My intention was to ring the doorbell and step out of sight until he answered it. And then I’d attack him with the Taser, delivering fifty thousand volts to his body and incapacitating him for up to five seconds. Enough time to put the cuffs on his wrists.
I would then ascertain whether or not he was alone. If he wasn’t, I’d scarper. But if he was I’d do all that I could to get him to reveal the whereabouts of the assassin.
I turned my phone onto silent and wrapped the scarf around my face, covering my nose and mouth. Then I lifted up my jacket hood and pulled it tight so that only my eyes were visible.
In the rear-view mirror I looked like someone the police would stop and search without a moment’s hesitation.
It was a quiet residential street and there was no one about. They were all inside their homes having dinner, watching television and doing whatever else they did behind their closed doors.
I told myself again that I was doing the right thing. I was doing what had to be done. If I didn’t do it the carnage would continue. And those responsible for my miscarriage could go unpunished.
I removed the key from the ignition and took a deep breath. Stay calm, I told myself. And stay focused.
My heart thumped against my ribcage as I started to get out of the car.
But then I stopped suddenly because I saw Carver’s front door open and light from inside spill onto the driveway.
He closed the door behind him and I thought he would climb into the BMW. But he didn’t. Instead he walked past it onto the pavement.
And then he started to cross the road in my direction.
63
Rosa
Rosa’s patience was rewarded when they left the hotel bar. They were on their way to a well-known tourist attraction that Alice wanted her to see.
‘It’s a full-scale replica of Sir Francis Drake’s sixteenth-century sailing galleon,’ she said excitedly. ‘And right next to it there’s a really cute pub that does smashing cocktails.’
But just before they reached their destination Rosa spotted the police patrol car. It was parked at the kerb in a quiet, unlit street next to an apartment block overlooking the Thames.
This is it, she told herself. The opportunity I’ve been waiting for.
‘Oh my God,’ she yelped suddenly as she made a big thing of delving into her bag. ‘My purse isn’t here. I must have left it on the seat back at the hotel.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Alice said. ‘We can go back and get it.’
Rosa shook her head. ‘There’s no need for you to come. I’ll dash back while you go over there to the pub and get the drinks in.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course. It’ll only take me a couple of minutes.’
What followed was so simple. So straightforward.
Alice headed for the pub and Rosa turned and walked in the opposite direction. When she looked back and saw that Alice had disappeared inside, she stopped and took stock of the situation.
The police car was still there and there was only one occupant – a woman officer in the driver’s seat. She was perhaps taking time out or waiting for a colleague to appear. But from Rosa’s point of view she was the proverbial sitting duck.
Rosa looked around, noting that there were no CCTV cameras focused on the immediate area. The few people who were around were simply passing by and none of them seemed to even notice the police car that was parked about ten metres back from the riverside walkway with only its side lights on.
Rosa dipped her hand into her bag as she strode purposefully towards the car. When she drew level with it she stopped and turned and was glad to see that the walkway was now clear, although she could hear voices.
She had approached targets in exactly this way before. The secret of success was to act natural but at the same time move with the speed of a striking cobra.
She peered through the passenger-side window and saw that the cop was looking at her cell phone. When Rosa tapped on the glass the woman turned sharply and a frown creased her brow.
She appeared to be in her thirties and was rather pretty.
Rosa didn’t try to open the door because she knew instinctively that there was no need. The cop did not perceive her to be a threat and proceeded to lower the window.
And that proved to be the last mistake she would ever make.
‘What’s the problem, miss?’ the cop asked her.
Rosa glanced quickly around and saw there was nobody watching. Then she whipped the pistol from her bag, thrust it through the open window and fired three shots into the woman’s body.
The shock registered on the cop’s face but only for a split second. And she didn’t make a sound other than to expel a lungful of air.
Then she slumped sideways across the passenger seat from where she couldn’t be seen from a distance.
Rosa swiftly withdrew the gun and slipped it back into her bag. She stepped back and checked again that she wasn’t being watched. The walkway and the street were both still empty.
As she walked away from the car she knew that it could not have gone any better. It had been a slick, clean hit. Easy and effortless, which was usually the case with random executions. There was no need to plan them. No need to agonise over the approach or the exit route. All you had to do was seize an opportunity and that was exactly what she had done.
Before she got to the pub where Alice was waiting she sent a text message to Roy Slack to let him know that she was continuing to hit her target of one kill a day.
64
Laura
I couldn’t be sure that Carver had spotted me. But as he walked towards the car, I reached into my bag for the Taser. Just in case I was about to be confronted.
I was lucky that I wasn’t parked under or near to a street lamp. But if he looked through the windscreen he’d be sure to see the dark figure sitting behind the wheel.
Fortunately he didn’t look through the windscreen or the side window as he walked behind the car and onto the pavement.
Relieved, I let go of the Taser and exhaled as a jolt of adrenalin spiked through me.
I watched him in the wing mirror walking away from me along the pavement, so I decided I had little choice but to follow him. I didn’t think he’d be going too far without his car and it seemed too cold for a leisurely evening walk. He wasn’t even wearing a coat. Just a loose sweater over jeans.
So maybe he was going to the local pub for a drink, or to a restaurant for something to eat.
As it turned out he went as far as a small corner store where I held back and watched him go inside.
Through the window I saw a young female assistant reach up and pluck a pack of cigarettes from the shelf behind her.
As Carver paid her, I retraced my steps along the street so that I’d be a safe distance ahead of him if he returned home. And that was exactly what he did.
I seized the opportunity to get there before him and ducked down behind a pair of wheelie bins to the right of the front door.
A few seconds later I heard him step onto the driveway and I got a whiff of the cigarette he’d sparked up during his short walk back.
And then I heard him insert his key in the lock. As he pushed the front door open, I made my move, leaping out from behind the bins with the Taser in my outstretched hand.
He heard me and whirled around and as he did so I pulled the trigger, hitting him just below the chest with a fierce jolt of electricity that sent him sprawling backwards into his hallway.
He lay there on the carpet, his whole body shaking dramatically, his mouth wide open in shock.
I knew that I had to move fast, that he would soon stabilise and regain control of his muscles and senses.
So I whipped the cuffs from my bag and rushed through the doorway. I had to grab his arms and pull him away from the door so that I could kick it shut.
Then I knelt down, pushed him over onto his front, and
cuffed his hands behind his back.
‘This is a two-shot Taser,’ I told him and held it in front of his face that was pressed against the carpet. ‘If you don’t do as I say I’ll give you another blast.’
I put my knee against the small of his back and let him feel the weight of me. His body went still and he began to mumble incoherently.
I got up off him and hauled him to his feet where he wobbled unsteadily. Then I gripped the cuffs with one hand and shoved the Taser into his back with the other.
‘Is there anyone else here?’ I said.
‘What the hell is going on?’ he spluttered back at me. ‘Who are you?’
‘Just answer the question, Carver. Are you alone?’
He threw himself against the wall and tried to turn to face me. But I responded by yanking his arms up behind his back, which made him scream.
‘OK, OK,’ he yelped. ‘There’s no one else here, for Christ’s sake.’
I pushed him along the hall to the first open door, which led into a large, modern kitchen. Once inside, I fired the second shot from the Taser. This time the point of impact was midway between his shoulder blades, and he went crashing to the floor.
While he reacted again like he was having a fit, I took his belt from his jeans and used it to secure his ankles together.
By the time I’d done that the vessels were throbbing at my temples and the breath was roaring in my ears. But I’d managed to bring down the notorious Rottweiler in less than two minutes. And I felt good about that.
So now the bastard was completely at my mercy, and the first stage of my plan was complete.
Oh, how the mighty fall!
That was my initial reaction as I looked down on the trussed-up figure of one of the most feared men in the London underworld.
‘You don’t look so tough now,’ I said. ‘I can’t imagine why they call you The Rottweiler. A poodle would be more fitting.’
He rolled onto his side and stared up at me, confusion writ large on his face.
‘Do I know you?’ he snarled.
‘I’ll ask the questions,’ I said, speaking through my linen scarf while trying to make my voice sound gruff. ‘It’s why I’m here. And why I’m going to hurt you if you don’t answer them.’
He narrowed his shark-like eyes. ‘Have you just escaped from a fucking mad house? If not then that’s where you belong.’
I lifted my right shoe and brought it down hard on his chest. He screwed up his face and let out a sharp grunt of pain. He was lucky that I was wearing flats and not heels.
‘You don’t know me but I know all about you.’ I said. ‘You’re Roy Slack’s right-hand man, and you’re a murdering bastard. You’ve also lied to the police about knowing nothing about his revenge attacks on officers.’
His eyes stretched wide and he shook his head. ‘Are you serious? That’s what this is about.’
‘I’m deadly serious,’ I said. ‘In fact I reckon you’re the one who’s been sending those text messages to the detectives on the task force. I hear you’re some kind of computer nerd, so that kind of thing is right up your street.’
‘You’re talking bollocks.’
‘I don’t think so. You’re in this shit right up to your neck. And you’re going to tell me all about it. Starting with everything you know about the woman who’s carrying out the killings on Slack’s behalf.’
That was the moment he realised I was a copper. He curled his lower lip and his eyes took on a fiery intensity.
‘I don’t fucking believe it,’ he blurted. ‘You’re Old Bill. First you snatch Roy and now me. Jesus, you pigs must be desperate.’
I kicked him in the crotch this time and the agony that contorted his features was a sight to behold. I realised suddenly that I was actually enjoying myself.
While he twisted his body and moaned, I looked around the kitchen. Marble worktops. Shiny grey units. All the mod cons. There was an island in the centre of the room and a table with four chairs. Clearly he’d spent a lot of his ill-gotten gains on it.
‘This can go on all night,’ I said. ‘And you won’t be as lucky as your boss was because there’s no team of coppers on their way here to rescue you.’
His complexion was pallid and sickly, but he was a tough brute and I didn’t get the sense that he was ready to start talking. It was a shame that I couldn’t just reach my hand into his brain and pull out the information.
‘There’s something else you’re going to tell me before the night is over,’ I said. ‘The firm has someone working for them inside the task force. Someone who must have given you the personal details of the detectives. I want to know who it is.’
If somebody had asked me a week ago if I’d be able to do what I was now doing I would have told them absolutely not. No way could I ever resort to torturing anyone, even a low-life thug like Danny Carver. But it’s amazing how events can change people and make them act out of character.
Right now I was way out of my comfort zone. A renegade copper. A law breaker. But I didn’t feel uncomfortable. And I didn’t feel any guilt or shame. It might have been different if I’d been willing to accept the possibility that Slack had been telling the truth all along and he didn’t know anything. But I wasn’t because I’d convinced myself that it couldn’t be anyone but him. And nothing I’d seen or heard had caused me to change my mind.
‘It’s just come to me,’ Carver said. ‘You’re the bird who turned up at the office. Jefferson. It was your bloke who was shot in Balham. The teacher.’
He made it sound like it was no big deal. And that made the anger tremble inside me. So I kicked him again. In the stomach. And as he writhed on the floor, I said, ‘Tell me what you know, Carver. Or so help me I will …’
He screwed his face into a snarl. ‘You’ll what, copper? Kill me? I don’t fucking think so. You ain’t got the bottle.’
I pulled back my coat hood and ripped off my scarf. I’d hoped that I’d be able to do this without revealing my identity, but now I didn’t care if he saw my face. In fact I suddenly wanted him to.
‘You have no idea what I’m capable of,’ I roared at him. ‘Your boss tried to have me murdered. He got someone to assassinate the Commissioner and kill one of my colleagues. So do you really think I’d balk at putting you six feet under? Especially since nobody knows I’m here and every cop in this city would give me an alibi if I needed one.’
His jaw tightened as he continued to stare at me without blinking. He was sizing me up, trying to work out if I was angry enough and reckless enough to take this much further.
I held his steely gaze, determined not to show any weakness or hesitation. I wanted him to know that I wasn’t about to lose my nerve. That I’d been pushed beyond reason and didn’t care about the consequences of my actions.
‘You won’t get me to admit to anything,’ he said after a few seconds. ‘And this psycho act is wasted on me. I can see you have a temper like most bitches. But you don’t have the stomach to see this through. It takes a certain kind of person to torture a confession out of someone. You have to be like me, and you’re not.’
‘This false bravado won’t wash,’ I said. ‘We both know that when the pain gets bad enough you’ll open up. And I’m more than prepared to inflict it even though I don’t regard myself as a complete psychopath.’
I left him where he was and walked around the kitchen, opening drawers. I found what I was looking for in the one below the sink. A large, sharp kitchen knife. I would use it to scare him. Not to hurt him. At least that was what I told myself as I held it up for him to see.
‘Four people have already been murdered,’ I said. ‘And two others – my partner and a police officer – are in hospital with bullet wounds. You need to understand that this is not just about stopping further bloodshed. This is also about me getting sweet revenge. So do you really think that I’m going to pass up this opportunity to do exactly that?’
I didn’t tell him about my miscarriage because I feared that if he
shrugged it off I would slit his throat.
I bent over and put the tip of the blade against his left cheek, just hard enough to pierce the skin and produce some blood.
‘This is what’s going to happen,’ I said. ‘I’m going to have a look around your house to give you time to think this through. If you’ve got any sense you’ll conclude that there’s no point holding back. Not only will you save yourself a lot of grief, but it’ll also work in your favour when you face your day in court.’
I threw the knife on the nearest worktop and started to take off my belt.
‘First I need to ensure that you won’t make a noise and try to roll around,’ I said.
Something close to panic seized his expression. ‘Your people have already searched the house. There’s nothing to find. They took my laptop and phones and—’
I shut him up by grabbing a tea towel from a holder on the wall behind me and stuffing it into his mouth. I secured it behind his head and then used my belt to hog-tie him by attaching it to the cuffs and to his own belt.
‘I get the impression you don’t want me to look around,’ I said once he was completely immobilised. ‘I’m guessing that’s because you’ve got something to hide.’
I took a pair of disposable gloves from my bag and put them on. Then I went upstairs first. There were three bedrooms and a bathroom. None of them yielded anything of interest, and they were all pretty bland and lacking in warmth and colour.
The living room had more character. There was a brown leather sofa with two matching chairs, a cream shagpile carpet, and a huge flat-screen TV that seemed to fill up half of one wall.
But my eyes were immediately drawn to the opposite wall, which was lined with three floor-to-ceiling bookcases. The middle bookcase was open like a door and beyond it was a small room with a desk inside.
I’d read about these hidden rooms in a magazine article quite recently. Although they were as old as the hills, they were now in vogue and becoming a common feature in large homes across London.
My interest piqued as I stepped towards it and saw that inside it was more like a really big cupboard than a proper room. However, there was space enough for a desk with a chair and book shelves on all three sides.