by W. Soliman
“Yes, I expect you’re right.”
“I am.” I paced in front of him, my mind alive with possibilities. “Tell me something, Jarvis. Why are you laying this on me now?” I was unable to keep the anger out of my voice. I didn’t have much of a relationship with my father, but did Jarvis really imagine I’d achieve closure for my mother’s killing by turning suspicion upon Dad? “It’s a little late for conscience-cleansing.”
“It isn’t that, Charlie. If I thought your father was behind it, I’d either have told you when you joined the police or taken my suspicions to the grave.”
“So what do you—”
“You know what they say about a woman scorned.”
I stared at him, dumbstruck. “You surely don’t suspect Marianne acted alone. She was a cripple, for God’s sake.”
“A cripple with access to a phone and a family full of righteous indignation about what I planned to do. If she shared her ideas with them, they would have encouraged her to go for it, saving them the trouble of caring for her. And, bear in mind that they didn’t have to, not once your mother died because I toed the line and stayed.” He lifted his eyes to my face. “If I couldn’t be with Julia I was dead inside anyway so it didn’t really matter where I lived, or who with.” He nodded at a thick file of papers on the table. “Those are Marianne’s bank statements for the time period in question.”
I followed the direction of his eyes and lifted a sceptical brow. “And you’ve only just found them, I suppose.”
“I’ve been clearing out, tidying up my papers for, you know…Anyway, I haven’t looked at them and don’t have a use for them anymore. Perhaps you’ll drop them in a skip for me when you leave.” He smiled and in the depths of his faded eyes I caught a brief glimpse of the vibrant man he’d once been. “You look so much like her that for a long time afterwards I couldn’t bear to be with you for too long. I couldn’t stand the pain or the constant reminders of what I’d almost had, or the guilt for perhaps having deprived you of your mother. That’s why I didn’t try as hard as I should have done to look out for you. I regret that now, and I dare say Julia will have a word or two to say to me on the subject when I see her again.” His eyes drifted towards the fireplace and started to close. “You’d better go now, Charlie,” he said, waving weakly in dismissal. “I doubt we’ll see one another again.”
He appeared to have fallen asleep. Too stunned to say anything, I did as he suggested and left the bungalow, closing the front door quietly behind me so as not to wake him.
I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the sweet fresh air they craved after the stuffiness of the sickroom, as I thought about everything Jarvis had just told me. Then I abruptly switched my mind away from the subject and checked my phone instead. I knew if it had rung whilst I’d been with Jarvis I’d have heard it but right now any old displacement activity would do. Kara hadn’t rung, of course, and so I called her for what felt like the fiftieth time that morning. Her phone was still switched off.
I stashed the papers Jarvis had given me in my top box, got on the bike and rode back to the marina, my head spinning with the implications of his revelations. The husband is always the first suspect in any investigation of this type but my father, his alibi having been checked, had been cleared. Everyone was fixated on the Iranian angle and believed my mother had died through mistaken identity. In retrospect I couldn’t quite believe that this other possibility hadn’t once occurred to me. I’d spent more hours than was healthy considering every angle of the situation that had changed the course of my life but had failed to pick up on the obvious. To say I felt dense would be an understatement.
Back on the boat I threw Jarvis’s papers into a drawer, where they’d just have to languish until I decided whether or not I actually wanted to know. Which in itself was ridiculous. I’d spent more than twenty years trying to get at the truth, and now that it was possibly within reach I was hesitating.
It was lunchtime but I had no appetite. I was becoming increasingly concerned by Kara’s silence. The time for procrastination had passed. I had to do something. A plan of sorts had filtered into my brain. I needed to be in London, and to carry it through I needed Gil with me. Now would have been a good time to own a car. Travelling by train with a dog was a real pain. My eyes fell upon an unfamiliar set of keys sitting in the bowl on the galley surface. Kara’s VW. Of course! Monk had dropped her at her flat and her car was still in the marina multistorey. I hastily pulled together a few items that might come in handy if I went through with my death-wish plan, whistled to Gil and left the boat with him bounding along at my heels.
Driving to London was the easy part. Finding a parking space within reach of the Cathcart Road house was more challenging but I eventually got lucky. It was now early evening and the first thing that struck me was the noise. Even in July, with half the city on holiday, my ears were assaulted by a cacophony of car horns, music from open windows, the sound of dozens of voices communicating in a variety of languages and the incessant rumble of traffic on the nearby Fulham Road. I walked past the house in question, staring up at the myriad windows. The idea that had seemed feasible whilst on the boat now appeared nothing short of ridiculous. But hey, I was here, no other solutions presented themselves and so what did I have to lose by trying?
I extracted Gil’s Frisbee from my back pocket and held it aloft. Seeing it, Gil abandoned his close inspection of a lamppost and sat at my feet, eyes glued to the blue plastic in my hand as he threw back his head and did the excited, high-pitched howl he was famous for. Whenever he tried that one on the boat it seemed to reverberate around half the marina. Tessa and Mike, a whole pontoon away, reckoned they always knew when Gil was in a playful mood. But here, amid the noise and hurly-burly of the city, his doggy excitement was barely audible.
Stupid idea, Hunter.
Undaunted, I tried it again. A couple walking past stopped and laughed at Gil but an old woman tutted, muttered something about dogs being a menace, and gave us a wide berth. No one else appeared to spare us a second glance. The anonymity of life in a big city had its advantages. My eyes were glued to the front of the house opposite but no wan face appeared at the windows, alerted by the noise, to give me a clue as to Kara’s location. I gave up, not daring to hang around in case someone was watching me from inside.
We spent some time wandering around Brompton Cemetery, doing what we each do best. In other words, Gil sniffed and I thought.
I dwelt upon Monk, who had so cavalierly set us up. Thinking of the danger Kara now faced, thanks to him, I was hard-pressed to control my temper. Was he amusing himself now by watching me chasing my tail or should I call on him for help? He got us into this and had a damned sight more clout than I did. It was a hard one but I weighed up the pros and cons and in the end decided against speaking to him. Somehow, and I suspected it would have to be the hard way, I had to get inside that house and look for Kara. If Monk knew, he’d only throw obstacles in my path. He didn’t care about anything except knowing where the hub of Kalashov’s cybercrime operation was. He wouldn’t do anything in his official capacity that might cause them to shut up shop and disappear off his radar.
I found a takeaway place in the Fulham Road and shared a kebab with Gil. Now that it was almost dark, we returned to Cathcart Road and tried the Frisbee thing again, more in hope than expectation. To my astonishment, during the second attempt, a curtain twitched on the top floor right. Kara’s face peered down at me. She raised her hand and waved like crazy. And so did the figure that appeared beside her.
It was Jasmine.
Nadia woke from a disturbed sleep and for a moment couldn’t remember where she was. Something wasn’t right, though, that much she could recall. She thought she was in Cathcart Road but this wasn’t the room she usually shared with Igor. She could tell from the height of the sun through a gap in the curtains that it was morning. Realisation was slow in coming. Igor had hit her, knocked her from her feet, and she’d told him she was pregnant to
stop him from hurting her or the baby. And now she was sleeping in this dingy room on the top floor with two single beds.
She sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Someone else was in the room, asleep in the other bed. Red hair fanned across the pillow, the only visible sign that she was sharing the room with her sister.
“Kara, is that you?”
“Jasmine!” Kara knelt and hugged her. “What are you doing in here?”
“It’s a long story. What about you?”
“I got a job here. I saw your husband take you away from Weymouth. He didn’t look pleased, and I thought I might be able to help you.”
Nadia dropped her head into her hands. “You shouldn’t have done that. There’s nothing you can do for me. You should think about yourself.”
Kara pulled a face. “Too late for that. Your stepdaughter knows who I am. God knows how she found out, but something must have made her suspicious whilst I was out with a client last night.” A brief, nervous giggle escaped. “It was Charlie, but I don’t think they realized that. Anyway, horrible Monika hauled me out of bed last night, confiscated my handbag and locked me in here.”
Nadia pulled a face. “Monika seems to know everything that goes on in this place.”
“Why aren’t you with Igor, Jas? What…what happened to your face?” Kara looked appalled. “He hit you, didn’t he?” Nadia said nothing and turned away. “The bastard!”
“It probably seems that way but it’s more complicated than that. He’s a passionate man, easily roused to jealousy.” Tears flowed down Nadia’s face. “I couldn’t risk telling him I was in that hotel meeting you, so he thinks I was there with Anton.”
Kara gasped. “What have I done? Charlie told me I’d only make matters worse and he was right.”
Nadia cuddled her sister. “Igor will come ’round. Now you’re here there’s nothing to stop me from telling him the truth, and he’ll have to believe me.”
“What will happen to me, Jas? To us both?”
There was a tremble in Kara’s voice that pulled at Nadia’s heartstrings. “He won’t harm you,” she said with fierce determination. “I won’t permit it.”
“But look what happened to Brett.”
“That wasn’t Igor’s doing. It was his men overstepping the mark, and Igor knows how devastated I was about it. As long as I can convince him that I’ve not been unfaithful, he’ll eventually do what I ask of him.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I’m sure.” Nadia stood and leaned against the windowsill. “His business in London will soon be completed and then we can go to Spain. He’ll have nothing to fear from anyone after that and no reason to harm you. Anyway, there’s nothing you can tell the authorities that will hurt him, is there?”
“No, we know nothing except what you told us.”
Nadia felt relief flood through her. “Well, there you are then.”
“How can you live such a life, Jas?”
Nadia’s couldn’t meet her sister’s eye. “It’s not always like this.”
“No, but—”
“It’s better not to think too deeply about these things. My only concern is for my children. For me they must always come first.”
“Of course. But, Jas, it’s not as hopeless as you think. Charlie knows I’m here.” Kara’s voice took on a fresh vibrancy. “He’ll find a way to rescue us both, and your children. You needn’t rely on the mercurial moods of a man who hits you.”
“I wish it were that simple.” She shook her head. “What a mess I’ve made of everything.” She flashed a smile designed to reassure but it had little discernible effect upon her distraught sister. “But never mind that. Tell me what your Charlie’s found out, sweetheart. There must be more.”
“Well, a few things, I suppose.”
Kara spoke for some time. There was nothing else for them to do. They spent the day in the stuffy room, sharing the same bed, talking until their jaws ached. Food was delivered but they barely touched it. Kara constantly wandered to the window, convinced Charlie Hunter would come looking for her because she hadn’t been able to phone him.
Nadia didn’t have the heart to disillusion her. Even if by some miracle he could work out where in the house they were being held, the place was a veritable minefield of alarms. He wouldn’t reach the first floor before being discovered.
Kara’s cry jolted Nadia out of her reverie. She climbed out of bed and joined Kara at the window, which was locked shut.
“Look!” Kara was waving like mad at a man with a large dog on the opposite side of the road. “It’s Charlie and Gil.” She turned a shining face towards Nadia. “I told you they’d come.”
Chapter Eighteen
Gil chased after the Frisbee I threw down the street and I walked rapidly away from the house, feeling conspicuous. It came as no surprise that Kara had been rumbled but I was taken aback to discover the two girls had been put in the same room. Why would they do that? Because it was easier to keep an eye on them if they were locked up together, or were more sinister forces at play? It didn’t make sense and I couldn’t rid myself of the feeling that I was missing something obvious.
I whistled to Gil, waited for a green light and crossed the street, deep in thought. If Kalashov had forgiven his wife, he’d never allow her to consort with her sister, just in case she let something vital slip about his activities. Which meant she was either there acting as his spy, or he intended to finish them both off and didn’t care if they exchanged information.
Such unwelcome thoughts helped me to focus, and I turned my mind to the thorny question of rescuing the girls. Any fanciful ideas I’d entertained of their being constrained somewhere other than on the top floor had now been kicked into touch, so I needed to rethink my plans. Getting to them from the inside was obviously a nonstarter, which left me with just one alternative. Even allowing for the apathy and self-absorption of the average Londoner, I was well aware from my days on the force that there were always one or two vigilante-types with nothing better to do than watch the street and report every little anomaly they observed. But there was nothing I could do about that. My main worry now was whether a man in his early forties could realistically be expected to climb up four stories on the outside of a London house without attracting the attention of those within the house. And, more importantly from my perspective, without breaking his bloody neck.
I was too deep in thought to realize at first that Gil and I had wandered in an aimless circle and were now back where we started from, opposite the house. The front door opened at that moment and I ducked out of view behind a hedge, ordering Gil to lie down beside me. When I deemed it safe I poked my head up and observed Viktor and Nikolay getting into a car that had just pulled up. I was grateful that I hadn’t started upon my rescue mission yet. They wouldn’t have been able to avoid falling over me if I had. I watched the car drive away, wondering where they were off to. Probably out for the night. Or perhaps they didn’t sleep at the house. One could but hope. Anyway, Jasmine would probably know. If I ever got to talk to her again, that was.
The coast was now as clear as it was ever going to be, and so I went back to Kara’s car and loaded Gil into the backseat. He’d had an active day and, not being too fussy about his sleeping arrangements, turned in a couple of tight circles, got comfortable and promptly dozed off. I unloaded the things I’d brought with me from the boot, cranked a window open to give the snoring Gil some air, locked the car and returned the way I’d just come.
I’d studied the façade of the building thoroughly earlier in the day and committed its main features to memory. I stared up at it again now, hoping I might have missed something obvious that would make my life easier.
I hadn’t.
There was a conservatory jutting out from the ground floor, and it appeared to have a solid roof. I made a note of the likely locations for movement detectors and automatic lights in the front garden. As long as there weren’t any other surprises lying in wait, and no cam
eras except the one I’d noticed the previous evening, I’d probably make it at least that high. But after that there was the more daunting prospect of shinning three floors up a drainpipe. I preferred not to think about the consequences if the pipe couldn’t take my weight. My only consolation was that there were solid window ledges at each level where I’d be able to catch my breath.
Provided, of course, that none of the rooms behind those ledges were occupied.
I knew that as plans went, this one was full of pitfalls. The possibilities for failure were spectacular but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t at least give it a try. I donned the webbing harness I’d brought with me from the boat. Yachtsmen use harnesses like this one to clip themselves onto the decks in big seas to prevent being swept overboard, or when they have to climb the masts and do running repairs. I found mine useful when up on the roof of the No Comment checking the aerials and such. I flung the binoculars I’d also brought along ’round my neck, coiled two lengths of webbing line over them and stuffed a torch into my pocket. Then I crept into the garden, crouched double, feeling like an inept cat-burglar and wondering why they always made this sort of thing look so easy in films.
I stealthily slid ’round the side of the conservatory and used the binoculars to take a close-up look at the task ahead of me. Jasmine being with Kara had its advantages. She would know where the internal alarms were so that, if I did manage to get to the girls, we’d have an outside chance of slipping out of the house unobserved. It was the thought of alarms that had dissuaded me from trying to gain access to the house from a window lower down but was an option I might need to reexamine if the climb became too perilous.
I hauled myself onto the roof of the conservatory, rather inelegantly but without too much trouble. My every move sounded unnaturally loud to my ears, even though traffic noise drowned out just about everything. Already out of breath when the hard bit hadn’t even started, I decided I was definitely too old for this. I blended into the wall as best I could whilst I caught my breath, pleased I’d had the foresight to wear black clothing.