by Seb Kirby
OK, he was older than her, by a good twenty years, she guessed. And they’d only been on one date. But he had a kind face and a gentle, respectful way about him that she liked. And he had money.
She was tired of meeting men, little more than overgrown boys in fact, who told her what a hard time they were having and who couldn’t afford to treat her to the important things in life that she knew she deserved.
Time to step outside of that mean world. Aim for a life with more enjoyment, more thrills, more luxury. Foreign holidays, maybe, in warm, exotic places. An end to filing the nails of the unlovely in this benighted town.
It was a quiet morning. Another half hour before the next customer appointment.
She offered Julie one of the cups of coffee she’d just made and took the other herself. “Here you are. Strong and sweet, as you like it.”
Julie smiled back. “I’d go for strong and sweet in my men, too, if there were any men worth chasing in this town.”
Ashley laughed. “I don’t know, Julie, there might be more than you think.”
“So, how’s it going with this new man? Is he strong and sweet?”
“Sweet enough.”
“You didn’t?”
“First date.”
“Seeing him again?”
“Yeah, he has a certain way of putting himself about that I really like.”
“Tomorrow?”
“No, tonight. I have a date with him tonight.”
CHAPTER 80
They wouldn’t let me speak to Janet.
I feared for her safety. I tried to convince myself that Montague wouldn’t mistreat a woman like her but when it came to Quinn I couldn’t be sure. I knew I shouldn’t let myself be fooled by the fact that he detested sex crime and that it was certain that there wasn’t much he wouldn’t contemplate to get what he wanted.
I knew I had to quell the rising tide of anger that made me want to do what I could to challenge them right now. It was the only thing that would allow me to stop imagining the distress that Janet was no doubt being forced to endure. But I knew that this was no time for forlorn gestures. Quinn was armed. He had a dozen men all within close call. Any rebellion would turn to humiliation in a matter of seconds. They held Janet. They called all the shots. The best chance I had of rescuing her was to go through with what I’d agreed with Montague. Not that I trusted him. But a way out might emerge. I had to believe in myself.
Montague knew he wouldn’t have to keep me on a tight leash. He and Quinn had me just where they wanted me.
And now they’d teamed me up with John Delaney. When Quinn introduced him to me I assumed that Delaney was one of his men. “John, here, will take care of you while you look for the girl. He stays with you to make sure the diary is safely delivered into Ty’s hands, so don’t even think about anything clever. He’ll be on you like a ton of bricks.”
I couldn’t shake off the thought that I’d seen Delaney somewhere before. His was a face locked away in a corner of my memory that hadn’t yet made it back to waking consciousness. I was left with the question: what is he doing here? But I decided that I had to let this pass and agree to go with him when Quinn laid out the plan. “So what are you two waiting for? Go check out the girl.”
I was surprised that I would be alone with Delaney. “Just the two of us?”
Quinn gave an ironic smile. “What do you expect? Me and an army? This is your affair, Markland, you need to get it sorted. Delaney is your minder, understand? Meanwhile, me and my men have a business to run.”
I had no difficulty in recalling the name of the beauty clinic where the killer’s next victim worked. In the time I’d been trapped in the underground chamber at Hetherington Hospital, I’d seen more times than I could count Ashley’s innocent smile and heard her whispered voice as she’d told him she worked at Sorano Clinic. Delaney searched for this on his phone and found the address was near Brick Lane.
As we headed deeper into the East End with Delaney driving us in his battered Ford estate, I couldn’t stop thinking about Ashley and the danger she must be in. I could only hope I’d be in time to warn her. I tried to prepare myself for the tragedy that would unfold if we were too late.
When we stopped at traffic lights, a police car drew up in the next lane. I turned my head away and looked down. Delaney wasn’t slow in commenting. “Don’t act like a wanted man.”
I whispered back. “How else should I behave?”
He smiled. “Don’t worry. I know about DI Ives and his interest in you. You’ll be all right as long as you’re with me.” He reached in his trousers pocket, pulled out his wallet and flicked it open. It was a Met Police ID card in the name of John Delaney with a picture of the man alongside his name and rank.
“Do Montague and Quinn know you’re a copper?”
He nodded. “They do.”
“And you still work for them?”
“Let’s just say they and I have our reasons.” He paused as the lights changed and he put the Ford in gear to pull away. “Point is, I hear Ives has you in his sights for the Cathy Newsome murder. And I know where he’s looking for you and the last place he has in mind is that you might be with me. So, stay with me, stay out of sight and you’ll be OK.”
The police car in the outer lane pulled away at speed. The officers inside hadn’t seen me.
But something about Delaney’s appearance in the photograph on his Met Police ID had tripped a switch. I now knew how I’d known him before. I’d seen him, more than once, leaving Stella DaSilva’s apartment when I’d gone there to meet her. Only then his name wasn’t Delaney.
It wouldn’t wait. I confronted him with it straight away. “You’re Terry Morgan. I remember you. Dealing drugs in and around Canary Wharf.”
He smiled. “Sure. That’s me when I’m undercover. Go to the top of the class.”
“And you knew Stella DaSilva?”
“Correct again.”
“So you must know me from then.”
“Yes, I saw you around. Working for the paper. The Herald, isn’t it? So, where is this going?”
My mind was racing. Delaney as Terry Morgan knew Della as Stella DaSilva.
TM.
I felt a shiver run along my spine and my skin crawl as I realized that I might be sitting next to the man who’d killed those women and who planned to kill another.
I had the sudden fear that all along he was gaming me, pretending to search for the killer when all along he was getting a sick thrill from sitting here right beside me.
The sun was bright and shining through the windscreen, heating the inside of the car, raising the temperature. While still driving, Delaney began to roll back the sleeves of his shirt to cool down.
I tried not to stare as he pushed back the sleeve on his right arm. If he was the killer, the red rose tattoo would be there.
There was no tattoo.
There was a reddened patch of skin where a tattoo had once been.
He noticed I’d been looking. “Had it removed by laser. It breaks down the inks. They dissolve in your bloodstream and it fades away.”
I couldn’t speak. The red patch of skin was a shape that was about right for one that once carried the rose tattoo. But I couldn’t look any closer without letting him know what I was doing.
I tried to sound matter of fact but I must have sounded shaky. “So why did you have it removed.”
He had an answer that sounded too pat. “It was for an old girlfriend. Can’t expect the new one to appreciate that.”
I tried to smile and act like it was natural enough to change the subject. “Are we near the clinic?”
He glanced at the sat nav. “It’s in the next street. Brady Street.”
Another question came that I couldn’t escape. “You know where Janet is, don’t you?”
He nodded.
It was almost certain that Delaney was the best chance I had of rescuing Janet.
And the thought terrified me.
CHAPTER 81
I was alone. There was nothing to stop me running. I could try to find a way to discover where Montague and Quinn were holding Janet. But what was the point? When Delaney returned and found I had gone he would alert them long before I had any chance of discovering where she was. And then I wouldn’t be able to protect her. I could only wait and see this thing out.
When Delaney returned and climbed back into the driver’s seat he didn’t look hopeful. “There’s no one by the name of Ashley working there. Or so they say. They tried to give me some run-around about a girl by that name working there once who left a year ago but I took that to be a lie.”
I was puzzled. “What reason would they have to lie?”
He shook his head. “I would have thought you’d understand that, being the journalist that you are. People tell lies all the time.” He paused. “Think about it this way. How many nail bars, hairdressers, beauty salons and tattoo parlors have you seen springing up in the last few years? How many of them are legit?”
“Not as many as I might think?”
He smiled. “There’s so much hot money around. Drugs, prostitution, illegal gambling. I see it all. Doing what I do. Being undercover. And that money has to get back into the straight economy somehow, so it can appear in the bank accounts of the types who invest with the likes of Tyrone Montague.”
“Hence places like Sorano Clinic?”
“Sure. They pass the hot money through their accounts. No one is any the wiser. It comes out the other end as clean as can be.”
“So that’s why you think they lied?”
“Believe me, they’re lying. When he saw my ID, the manager looked like all his worst nightmares about being caught were about to come true. So, his answer to that was to lie about everything. No one by the name of Ashley working here. Oh, there was someone of that name but she left over a year ago. How could he think I’d be taken in by that?”
“So what do we do?”
“We wait.”
An hour later I saw Ashley hurry away from the clinic.
I prodded Delaney to get his attention. “That’s her.”
“You’re sure?”
I nodded. “Yes, there’s no mistake.”
We followed as she walked along Brady Street towards Bethnal Green station.
If she was about to take a train, we would have had to plan for that. But Ashley lived nearby. She paused at the doorway to an apartment block, entered her access code and went inside.
Delaney parked a little farther down on the other side of the street, in line of sight of the apartment entrance.
“What now?”
“Again, we wait.” Delaney paused. “Don’t look surprised. In my line of work it’s all about waiting.”
“We don’t go over there and tell her?”
“Tell her what? That you’re convinced she’s about to hook up with a serial killer. And when she looks straight back at you, thinking you’re a freak, and asks who you’re suggesting that might be, you’re going to say what?”
I still didn’t know if he was gaming me. And for all I thought I knew about the killer, I didn’t know his name or what he looked like. The only thing I could be certain of was that this woman, Ashley, was about to become his next victim. But I could give her no other reason to want to believe me.
“OK. We wait.”
We fell into silence.
I still couldn’t take my eyes off the patch of red skin on his forearm.
He noticed I was looking. “You’re interested in that?”
“No. Just looking. Nothing intended.”
“Come on. You haven’t stopped looking since you first saw it.”
“OK. Who was it for? The one you had removed.”
He looked long and hard at me. “You have a reason?”
“Just curious. Nothing more.”
He reached in his coat pocket. I thought he was reaching for a gun.
Instead he showed me a photograph. “It was for Stella. And this is her.”
We were looking at a photograph of Della Brogan, known to Delaney as Stella DaSilva.
He put the picture away. “You knew her, didn’t you?”
I could see no reason not to tell him the truth. “Turns out she was a good friend, though it’s taken me a while to realize it.” I paused. “You’re saying you loved her?”
He nodded. “Now that you know, you might as well hear it all. Someone killed Stella and the reason why I’m here doing any of this is to find enough evidence to make sure her killers go down for life.”
My mind was racing. Delaney had opened up to me.
But could I trust him?
“You said you know where they’re holding my wife.”
He smiled to let me know there was no reason why he should be telling me this. “Quinn has her back at the disused factory. Along with an Irishman by the name of Brogan.” He paused. “They’re safe for now. So long as you don’t step out of line.”
CHAPTER 82
It was dark and raining as Ashley stepped out onto the street and waited.
She was dressed for a night out, in high heels and a short sequin-covered dress that sparkled as it caught the light from the nearby streetlamp.
A BMW drew up. She smiled, walked round to open the front passenger door and climbed inside.
I strained to see the face of the driver but as I looked, the car drew away at speed.
Delaney put the old Ford into gear and we followed. “Is that him?”
I shouted back. “It must be.”
We thought we’d lost them approaching Soho when traffic lights turned against us after the BMW had sped through. When the lights turned to green, the BMW was nowhere in sight. We pressed on and caught up with them pulling into the car park on Poland Street. By the time we pulled in and found where the BMW was parked, they had moved on.
Delaney pulled out his phone, tapped in the registration number of the car and waited for a reply from the police computer. He cursed. “Down for maintenance.”
We ran towards the car park stairs and made it back onto the street in time to see Ashley, arm in arm with the killer, walking into Bollingers, a Soho basement club. Once again, I could only see the killer at distance and from behind.
The inside of the club was all movement, light, sound and sexual energy. Trance music swirled as pretty young things gyrated in simulated ecstasy. Neither Ashley nor the killer could be seen.
Delaney and I separated, searching the club.
I was in the bar area, checking out the drinkers when there was a commotion from the dance floor.
The dancers there had stopped and had drawn back to leave a large open space. At its center, surrounded by gaping revelers, many of them crying or screaming, lay someone.
I pushed my way through the crowd. Blood flowed from a long gash at Delaney’s throat. His body was starting to convulse. A young woman who said she was a nurse was trying to staunch the flow of blood but her expression told me she was losing the fight.
I bent close to Delaney to hear what were to be his last words. “Don’t lose him.”
His right hand opened to reveal the keys to the Ford.
It was an unspoken last wish. Take the Ford. Follow.
I was certain I had to stay but the nurse pushed Delaney’s eyelids closed and looked back at me, shaking her head. He had died.
My thoughts turned to Ashley once more.
If there was a chance I could save her, I had to leave.
By the time I’d run to the car park and hurried up the stairs, I was in time to see, on the far side of the level, the killer bundling Ashley into the BMW, then climbing in himself, starting up and speeding away. Once again, I was too distant to identify him.
I found my way to Delaney’s Ford and started it up. It was a manual and I had only driven automatics so there was a loud grinding of gears as I struggled with
the clutch control as I pulled away. I found the ticket that Delaney had bought when we entered the car park and used it at the exit barrier.
Back out on Poland Street, I caught sight of the BMW taking a right onto Oxford Street. I revved up the Ford and followed.
When the BMW made it onto the M25 motorway, I thought I would lose them, given the lack of power of my machine compared with his. But he settled for keeping to the speed limit. Perhaps he knew that above all he had to avoid being stopped by traffic police.
I followed as he took the exit to Amersham. The highway soon gave way to country roads. More than once I thought I’d lost him as he disappeared from sight around sharp bends but I kept the BMW in view until it pulled into the driveway of a large house.
I parked the Ford off the road and prepared to walk up the driveway. The automatic gates had closed after the BMW had passed through. I had to climb the wall nearby and hope that I wouldn’t encounter intruder alarms or dogs. As I landed on the other side of the wall there was nothing but silence.
The tree-lined driveway was in darkness and I was able to make my way along it unseen until I arrived at the house, a large residence in the Arts and Crafts style.
There was no sign of the BMW. The killer must have driven it straight into one of the three garages that adjoined the house. Chances were these had internal entryways into the house proper. He was inside with Ashley.
I was about to try to find a way into the house when the sound of a train passing nearby brought me to a halt. The value of the property must have been much reduced when the railway was built this close. But my thoughts were elsewhere. I was taken back to what I’d seen and heard when the killer had made me watch the videos of the missing girls. The sound of the train that had just passed, shaking the ground, was the same as then. This house was the place where those murders had taken place.
There was a sash window at the side of the house that had been left open just an inch. There was just enough room to fit the fingers of both hands into the space and I pulled with all my might to raise the window high enough so that I could climb in.