Emma frowned. He smiled at her expression and leaned towards her. She could smell stale cigarette smoke on his breath.
‘I was denied the pleasure of killing him myself,’ he said, his face inches from hers.
She turned away in disgust, and he laughed again. What did he mean? How did he know Jack? She couldn’t afford to give Jack any head space now, though. She was going to get Ollie. Her breathing became fast and shallow as her excitement grew. It wouldn’t be long now.
They had left the motorway behind; on Finn’s instructions Emma turned down a wide avenue with houses set well back from the road.
‘Turn left ahead, then third drive on the right. Let’s see if Julie has kept your baby safe. You’d better hope she hasn’t got herself pissed and dropped the little bugger on his head.’ He cackled, but Emma was no longer listening.
Julie? That was the name of the woman Tom thought had Ollie – but he’d said they hadn’t found him. What would Finn do if he got home and Ollie wasn’t there? Emma had no idea, but she felt her thrill of anticipation at getting Ollie back disintegrate, shattering into tiny fragments.
All of this – everything she had done – was for nothing. She wanted to howl, to scream her misery into the night. Should she warn him – tell him that the police had already checked out Julie and they knew Ollie wasn’t there?
And then from nowhere came the realisation of how it was all going to end. She had heard Finn’s name. She was about to pull into the drive of his home. The boss man had told Finn to ‘save it for later’.
He wasn’t going to let her go.
How had she been so stupid? Was this her punishment for involving the police?
It was too late to think of what else she could do, so she turned the wheel of the car, drew up on a narrow drive and switched off the engine.
She needed to get him on her side – make him realise that she was no longer working with the police – do something that would make him trust her.
‘Finn,’ she began.
‘Shut up and get out of the car.’ He dug the tip of his gun into her thigh as if to remind her of its presence then stuffed it into his pocket. Before she could protest, he opened his door and started to get out.
Emma knew she had to say something to him before he made it into the house. She felt she would be safer outside. She pulled on the handle to open the door, ready to chase him up the drive.
‘Finn,’ she shouted. ‘There’s something I need to tell you.’
Her only hope was that she could reason with him – make him give Ollie back in exchange for her co-operation with the police.
He turned round towards her, his hand flying to the pocket of his jacket.
Suddenly the quiet night was ripped apart. Sound erupted from all around, and Emma felt strong arms reach out and grab her as two black figures emerged from behind a hedge and dragged her to the floor.
It was over in seconds. By the time Emma was helped back to her feet, four men were surrounding McGuinness, his hands already cuffed behind his back.
His black eyes looked into hers, and she swallowed – the knowledge of what had been about to happen to her shining from Finn’s inky stare.
She turned away and saw Becky Robinson sprinting across the road towards her.
‘Are you okay, Emma?’ she asked, putting an arm gently round Emma’s waist.
Emma felt her legs weaken. Too much had happened and for one dreadful moment, she didn’t think she could take any more. She felt Becky’s grip tighten.
‘Listen, Emma – Tom thinks he knows where Ollie is. I need you to go with this policeman,’ Becky indicated a middle-aged man that Emma hadn’t even noticed. ‘Tom will meet you there. I’ve got to be somewhere else, but are you sure you’re okay?’
Emma had hardly registered anything past Becky’s first sentence, and she nodded vaguely, only one thought in her head.
Ollie.
She forced some strength into her legs, stood up straight and took a deep breath.
I’m coming, baby.
*
Tom ran from the control room. He needed to get to Melissa’s home, right on the border of his jurisdiction. His journey would be longer than Emma’s, but at this time in the morning he could risk going through the centre of town.
They didn’t have much time left. Jack had bought them an hour, but nearly half of that had already gone.
65
Melissa’s house was at the top of a hill, standing alone, isolated, surrounded by bleak, empty moorland. It appeared to be a converted barn, with huge sheets of glass replacing the original arched barn doors. Light spilled out from the uncurtained window, but Tom was still too far away to see into the depths of the room.
He turned his car onto a farm track that was partially hidden from the road by a thicket of rowan trees. He walked back to the lane and could see instantly why Guy Bentley’s mistress lived here. The view stretched for miles, back to the nearest town. No car would be able to approach at night without its headlights being seen, and when Guy was visiting he no doubt put one of his henchmen on lookout duty. The lane ended at Melissa’s house, a narrow, stony track continuing on to the moor beyond, and Tom had to hope that nobody had been watching the road tonight.
A call came through on Tom’s radio.
‘Tom – Paul Green here. A problem, I’m afraid. Bentley’s playing hardball. He’s told Blake – Jack – he doesn’t like the new meeting place. He’s got a better one. It’s a disused cow shed about five hundred metres from Melissa’s house.’
‘Bugger,’ Tom muttered. It would be reckless for Guy to invite his buyer to Melissa’s home, but if he had chosen a location so close by, the chances were he would be planning on visiting his mistress too.
‘How long?’ Tom asked, his calm demeanour belying his true feelings.
‘We don’t know, but I suspect he’s in his own car. The gold will be in the van. He could have been halfway there before he called Jack. You need to hang on until we get there.’
‘Thanks, Paul. How far out are you?’
‘About twenty minutes, but we’re going to have to approach with caution. We’ve seen the satellite image of the area, and we can’t just come charging in; they’ll have done a runner before we get there. There’s a chopper on its way, and an ambulance. The locals will get to you before us, but wait for firearms, Tom.’
Tom ended the call. He could see headlights approaching, and he darted back across the road to stand behind the trees.
Thirty seconds later a car turned onto the track and pulled up behind Tom’s. Emma leaped out of the unmarked police car almost before it had stopped.
‘Is this it, Tom?’ she called as she ran towards him.
‘Quiet, Emma. I know you want to race in there, but let’s be sensible. Let me check it out first.’
Tom knew he wasn’t going to wait for the armed response team. If Ollie had been given drugs, every second counted. But he needed to be sure Melissa was alone.
‘I’m sorry about before, Tom. I had to do what they asked, but I know it was stupid,’ Emma said.
‘You’ve nothing to apologise for, I’m just glad you’re safe. We’ll talk about it later. There are a couple of things you need to know, though, and something I need to ask.’
Emma looked at him, her expression wary.
‘What happened in the vault, Emma?’
Her eyes slid away from his, and he knew he was right.
‘Who was in there with you?’
‘It doesn’t matter. Let’s just get Ollie.’
‘It was Jack, wasn’t it?’
He watched as Emma’s eyes screwed tight shut, as if she was barely holding herself together.
‘Not now, Tom. I can’t let myself think about it. Let me get Ollie. Please.’
Tom knew she was right. It could wait. He debated whether to tell her about David’s injuries, or that Natasha was missing, but he decided against it for now. He’d had an update on the way here, and there was stil
l no sign of the girl.
There was one thing he had to tell Emma, though. ‘You need to know that Mel – the woman who has Ollie – she’s Melissa.’ He didn’t have to say any more.
‘I don’t care who she is, as long as she gives me back my baby. What are we waiting for?’
‘Get back in the car, Emma. I’m going to check it out.’ Tom leaned across to the driver. He needed the man to keep watch over Emma. ‘Stay out of sight for now, and look after Mrs Joseph. I’ll radio when it’s safe for you to bring her in.’ He turned to Emma, willing her to understand. ‘Just do it, Em.’
Emma opened the door and sat sideways on the seat, her feet out of the car – ready to move at a second’s notice. The driver reached up and switched off the interior light.
Tom made his way across the road. He had no idea whether Guy knew that Ollie was with Melissa. He was going to have to get the baby out before Guy arrived, though.
He made his way around the side of the house, keeping off the cobbled drive. There were no cars visible, but he skirted round the back to check for ways in and out, not knowing if he would need an escape route. He could hear nothing from inside the house, and he moved deeper into the undergrowth, beyond the reach of the light flooding from the huge arched window, hoping to see in without being spotted.
He was too late. While he had been round the back of the house he hadn’t been able to watch the road, and suddenly a pair of powerful headlights swept into the drive. Tom ducked down behind a holly bush as a dark red Aston Martin Vanquish pulled up on the cobbles.
A man got out, one hand deep in his overcoat pocket, the other holding a phone to his ear.
Guy Bentley.
‘Wait there,’ Tom heard Guy say. ‘The buyer should be with you in thirty minutes, but I’ll be back by then. I’m at Mel’s picking some gear up. And where the fuck’s Finn – have you heard from him?’
There was a pause.
‘Stupid bastard. He’d better not be shagging the Joseph woman. I told him to lock her and the kid up – save playtime for later. Keep trying him.’
Guy punched the screen of his mobile angrily and turned towards the house. At that moment Tom sensed movement to his right and a pale face was caught in the lamplight from the drive.
Emma.
What the hell was she doing? How did she get away from her driver?
Tom had no time to think. He couldn’t let Guy see her. He moved out from behind his shrub, banging against the leaves to make them rustle. Guy turned towards him, his hand automatically going to his right pocket.
Gun.
Then Guy’s face changed. He knew – knew that they had him, but had no idea how or why. And Tom was certain he wouldn’t go down without a fight. He would have an escape route from here – a plan. And at the moment, all that stood between Guy and freedom was Tom.
‘Well, if it isn’t Tom Douglas. What a pleasant surprise, Tom. How are you keeping?’
‘Ethan,’ Tom responded, seeing nothing more than a grown-up version of the kid who used to hang out in his brother’s bedroom. He didn’t for one second doubt that this man was far more dangerous, though, and thoroughly lacking in morality.
‘Ethan?’ Guy responded, laughing. ‘Nobody’s called me that for years. Your brother christened me Posh Guy all those years ago, and I liked it so much that I kept it. Dropped the Posh, of course. Nasty connotations. Would you like to come in? This is my girlfriend’s house – but then I expect you know that, don’t you, a smart policeman like you. You’ve met her, of course, when she was pretending to be Jack’s lover.’
Tom could see Emma over Guy’s shoulder, but he could do nothing to pass any signal to her, and hoped that she had the sense to keep out of sight.
Guy indicated the way into the house with his left hand, his right still in his pocket. They made it as far as the porch.
‘Stop there, Tom,’ Guy’s voice had hardened from the previous friendly tones. ‘Turn round.’
Tom turned slowly.
Guy was smiling at him, but his eyes were hard. ‘Radio, please, and mobile phones. I’d be surprised if you only had one, so unless you produce them both, I’m going to have to search you. I’d rather not, if it’s all the same.’
Tom took his time. Any delay right now would be good.
‘Now, Jack’s little brother. What am I going to do with you?’ Guy said, his tone conversational as he pulled a gun from his pocket and pointed it at Tom.
66
Guy indicated with the gun that Tom should lead the way. There was a door to the left off the hall, with light seeping out from its edges, and Tom pushed it open.
Seated in a comfortable armchair facing a roaring fire was a young woman holding a sleeping baby boy. Ollie.
The woman turned her head slightly, showing Tom her profile. She gasped as Guy entered the room, his gun pointed at Tom’s head.
‘Guy,’ she said, visibly swallowing her fear. ‘I wasn’t expecting you.’
‘Clearly,’ he replied. ‘What the fuck are you doing with the baby, Mel?’
Tom could hear the surprise and anger in Guy’s voice, and Mel turned back to the fire so Guy couldn’t see the panic that Tom had glimpsed in her eyes.
She spoke without looking at Guy, her tone of defiance made less convincing by her shaking voice.
‘Julie told me you weren’t going to give the baby back. She was pissed, so I took him. I wasn’t leaving him to Finn. He’s an evil bastard.’
‘You left the house?’
Tom could hear the incredulity in Guy’s voice.
‘It was dark. Nobody saw me. Only Julie, and she’s seen her husband’s handiwork before.’
Tom had no idea what any of this was about, but he kept quiet.
‘You’re a stupid bitch, Mel.’ Guy’s casual tone was somehow more threatening than if he had shouted. ‘I thought you might have learned your lesson six years ago. This is Tom – Jack’s brother – and he’s filth. But I guess you knew all that, didn’t you? How far behind are the cavalry, Tom?’
Tom shrugged. He wasn’t giving anything away, but this still had the potential to go horribly wrong.
‘Never mind, my men will tell me when they’re close. Why did you contact Tom, Mel?’
Guy was now pointing the gun at Mel, who was still holding Ollie close to her chest, but Mel was looking past Guy, at the door. Tom followed her gaze, and closed his eyes briefly in horror.
‘Leave her alone, Guy. I told Tom where to find her.’
Guy swung round at the sound of the voice, pointing his gun at the man in the doorway.
‘Hello, little brother,’ Jack said, looking at Tom with a sad smile.
‘Jack Douglas,’ Guy whispered, his eyes narrowing to slits. He waved his gun to indicate that Jack should move next to Tom, but Jack stood his ground. ‘Who’d have thought it. Come back to see Mel, have you? I guess you owe her one.’
Guy sneered at his mistress.
‘None of it was Mel’s fault,’ Jack said. ‘I tricked her too.’
‘That’s crap, Jack. After screwing up that job for us you’d never have got away without Mel’s help. But she suffered for it, didn’t you, darling?’
Tom looked at Mel, who was still staring at the fire. Much as he wanted to grab Ollie from her and run for the door, he knew it wouldn’t work. Not with Guy waving that gun around.
‘She never leaves the house now, did you know that Jack?’ Guy said. ‘Not since the day she helped you run away. Show Jack what he did to you.’ Guy was maintaining his pleasant tone. Mel didn’t turn her head.
‘I don’t want to have to make you, Mel. Show Jack.’
Slowly Mel turned her head so that the left side of her face was visible. From just below her left eye down to her chin was a jagged scar, brownish pink in colour, pulling her eye down and exposing her inner eyelid, wet and pink.
‘You bastard,’ Jack said.
‘It was only a punch or two. Finn stitched it for her.’
Tom kn
ew without asking that any stitching would have been without the benefit of anaesthetic and for a moment he felt Mel’s pain as the needle pierced her flesh. She hadn’t been blameless, but this was sheer savagery.
‘I’ll deal with Mel later. For now, it’s just you two.’ Guy’s tone had changed. ‘On your knees, both of you.’
‘Why not get out while you can, Guy?’ Jack asked, not moving from the spot.
Guy ignored him, lifted his gun and pointed it at Tom.
To Tom’s dismay, Jack stepped in front of him and started to move towards Guy, stopping only when they were face to face.
Guy smiled and pushed the barrel of the gun against Jack’s head.
‘You forget, I’m already dead,’ Jack said, his eyes locked onto Guy’s. ‘You can’t kill a dead man.’
*
The sound of the gunshot cutting through the silent early-morning air sent the first birds of the day, waiting to sing out their tuneful dawn chorus, fluttering into the bare trees. And Emma felt as if a pointed blade had pierced her heart.
She pushed herself out from behind the bushes where she had been hiding since Tom had gone into the house, and sprinted up the drive. Her mind was focused on one thing – Ollie.
Her legs pounded, strange pains running through them as the tension in her limbs fought and lost the battle to cramp up. Head down, she cried out in agony, but kept running, limping, dragging one leg with its rock-solid knotted calf muscle to the black front door of the secluded barn. She pushed the door open and forced herself onwards, towards the silent room on her left – the only room showing light.
One hand pressing against a stitch in her left side, she flung herself over the threshold.
To Emma, it was as if the whole room had faded to darkness, the only bright light glowing from Ollie who had started to cry, no doubt woken by the gunshot. She barely noticed two men lying on the floor in a pool of blood. She had eyes only for her baby, and for the woman holding Ollie tightly in one arm, and brandishing a gun in the other, its barrel waving around the room in the woman’s shaking hand.
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