Rivlin had to rein in his emotions. That was Nicci’s fault too. She’d suckered him. He wondered if Stoneham had got wind of his involvement in that. He could always argue it was simply a coincidence that Steve O’Connor was his uncle.
‘What do you want me to do now?’ He sounded pathetic even to himself.
‘Get in touch with Nicci and work with her.’
‘I don’t think she likes me, boss.’
‘Use your charm.’ Stoneham’s voice was weary. ‘If we’re going to put a proper protection team around Phelps it’ll be expensive so I’ll have to get it signed off.’ There was a pause and a sigh. ‘It’s four thirty now. I don’t know how long it’s going to take me to organize it.’
‘I’ll go back to the hospital myself if you like and cover.’
‘That’s not exactly a good use of your time.’
‘Getting Phelps to talk is the breakthrough we need. Gives me another chance to try and get her onside.’
‘Yeah, you’re right. Good idea.’
The feeling that he’d managed to redeem himself a notch fuelled his confidence.
‘If our theory is correct, boss, and this is the Kemals, then two failed attempts in as many days is going to give them pause for thought. It’s very unlikely they’ll try anything else immediately. As long as we get something in place in the next couple of days I think we’ll be covered.’
Stoneham considered this for a moment. ‘If the hospital discharge her we’ll need a safe house. I need to run this by the Assistant Chief; I’d rather not do it on the phone and he’s at an ACPO seminar in Manchester.’
‘Look, I’ll talk to hospital security and make sure they keep an eye on Phelps tonight.’
‘It would certainly make things easier if I could tackle him face-to-face tomorrow, because he’s not going to like the cost.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll see to it something’s sorted out for tonight.’
‘Okay, well, I’ll leave it with you.’ She sounded relieved. Rivlin appreciated the burden she carried but he also knew that taking some of it upon himself would earn him brownie points.
‘And you’ll get in touch with Nicci?’
‘I will, boss.’
‘For what it’s worth, I get the impression that she does like you. Keep me updated.’
‘Of course.’
Rivlin put the phone down and headed for the coffee machine. The whole discussion had gone much better than he’d expected. He felt he was back in the driving seat. As to the innuendo about Nicci – Stoneham’s tone implied it – she was definitely not his type. No way. Nor was he about to rely on some flaky ex-cop, discharged on medical grounds, to do his job for him. He’d phone her and he’d be polite, but there was no way she was going to call the shots.
27
Sadik Kemal arrived at Basildon Hospital shortly after seven p.m. He brought a driver and Riza, a young man he was training up from a street gang in Wood Green. A similar age to Tevfik, Riza had all the qualities his nephew lacked. He was quiet and focused; he obeyed orders without demur.
They stopped at Thurrock services for a burger. A heavy downpour had slowed traffic to a crawl and they waited for it to pass over and the congestion to ease before continuing on the A13 to Basildon. Ignoring the signs directing them to the multistorey car park, the white transit van peeled off to the left and followed the service road that looped around the jumble of old and new buildings at the back of the hospital. They pulled up at a side door where their contact was waiting.
The security guard was Somali and he looked extremely anxious.
Sadik got out of the van. ‘You Jaafi?’
The guard nodded. He owed the Kemals six thousand dollars, which was the only reason he was standing there. They’d trafficked him into the country four years ago and after months in detention he’d finally been granted asylum, but the debt remained.
Taking his arm, Sadik smiled. ‘Don’t look so worried, my friend. You do this small service for us tonight and we wipe the slate clean. You should be happy.’
‘The police have been here.’ Jaafi blurted it out, his apprehension overcoming his fear of the gangster.
‘What d’you mean?’
‘They come to the office. A detective inspector. And he give us special instructions to watch this woman. My boss is not happy. He don’t have enough men. On the night shift only three guards for the whole hospital.’
Riza got out of the van and came to stand behind Sadik. He folded his arms and gave the Somali a menacing stare.
The Turk rubbed his chin then a smile spread across his features. ‘Well, this is all to the good. I think we help your boss out.’
‘I don’t understand.’ Jaafi frowned. ‘You want to talk to her, why you don’t make a visit in the day?’
‘Have you got the uniforms?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then you don’t need to worry about nothing else.’ Sadik started to propel the Somali towards the door. ‘What time’s the night shift start?’
‘Eight o’clock.’
Sadik tapped the radio clipped to the guard’s belt. ‘You call your boss. You say you got it covered. You’ll keep an eye on her.’
‘But what if—’
‘Six thousand dollars, my friend. That’s a lot of money. You still got family back home?’
Jaafi nodded. His shoulders were hunched and the blue uniform shirt was baggy on his spare lanky frame.
‘Then think of them. Think what the extra money you send home can do for them. Forget about this woman, she ain’t nothing to you.’
28
In spite of her protestations that it wasn’t necessary, Eddie Lunt drove Nicci home. After they’d left Basildon Hospital they went to Chelmsford. She’d judged it was best to tackle Cheryl Stoneham in person. Leaving Eddie in a coffee shop near the market, she’d had to wait nearly three-quarters of an hour to get an audience with the DCI.
Behind the jokey, jolly facade, Stoneham looked harassed. ‘Sorry for keeping you waiting, Nic. Liaison meeting with your old lot to agree a joint strategy.’
‘Are they being difficult?’
‘Not particularly. Nowadays it’s all about budgets. Who’s paying for what. That’s what I spend most of my time on, not chasing villains.’
Nicci had duly commiserated and they’d shared a bit of banter about the up-themselves attitudes of the Met, but Nicci knew Stoneham wouldn’t be fooled. What she was asking the DCI to do would involve spending even more of the police’s over-stretched budget. Although Stoneham didn’t share Nicci’s view of Karen Phelps as a victim, she had to concede that, if her life was in danger, she was entitled to police protection. Also, facing a press conference with another dead body to explain was not a prospect Stoneham relished. They both knew this was the bottom line, but Nicci had been too polite to mention it.
It was early evening by the time she and Eddie had headed back to London, but at least Nicci was reassured that Kaz Phelps was in no immediate danger.
Traffic had been sluggish and Nicci had dozed until a sharp thundery shower had hit them on the A12 around Gidea Park. Slouched in the passenger seat she’d reflected that this was probably the most amount of time she’d spent on her own with Eddie. He hadn’t interrogated her about the meeting with Stoneham, which was a relief. He’d simply asked if she minded a bit of Classic FM. They’d travelled without conversation to the soft strains of Brahms and then Liszt. Nicci had been expecting some cringeworthy joke involving cockney rhyming slang but Eddie kept his thoughts to himself as the music washed over them.
He dropped her right outside the door and she was putting the kettle on and considering what to microwave when her phone rang. She saw from the screen that it was Tom Rivlin. Stoneham had obviously been on his case, which amused her. She let the phone ring a couple of times before answering.
‘Hi, Tom.’ The tone was as disinterested as she could manage, though there was a tension in her lower belly. They hadn’t spoken since she’d given him a
piece of her mind.
‘Yeah, er, hi. Sorry to bother you.’ He sounded apprehensive, which pleased her. ‘I’ve just had a call from the sister in charge of Karen Phelps’s ward. They’re a bit worried. She seems to have disappeared. I was wondering if you had any idea of her whereabouts?’
29
The loose gravel on the path was sharp and lacerated her bare feet as she ran but she made it round the corner of what looked like the hospital’s boiler house. In a welcome patch of inky darkness, away from the orange glow of the sodium lamps, Kaz Phelps squatted, back against the wall, and got her breath. She didn’t dare look. The young one was fast and he was after her.
She’d been in the bathroom, cleaning her teeth, when the two security guards, pushing an A&E trolley, had wandered into her bay. The slimy cop, Rivlin, had been round earlier. Kaz had clocked him talking to one of the nurses, who’d relayed the message that extra security had been arranged. At least Nicci had kept her word.
Presuming the guards were there to protect her, Kaz had emerged from the bathroom and was wandering back to her bed when a shiver ran down her spine. Her subconscious knew before she did: something wasn’t right. He was standing with his back towards her, solid muscle, grey hair slicked back, chatting to the healthcare assistant who was dispensing evening drinks. He’d turned his head slightly and that’s when Kaz had glimpsed his profile. It’d hit her like a punch in the gut. Although he was wearing the hospital’s security uniform it was definitely Sadik Kemal.
Backing away, Kaz had slipped through the swing doors into the corridor. Then she ran. Visiting hours were over and there were few people or staff about. The hospital was hunkering down for the night. Next to naked, with the flimsy gown gaping at the back and flapping round her knees, she’d hurtled down the corridor. Her thoughts were in a spin. The fucking Kemals! Dressed up as security. Who was going to help her? And who could she even trust?
Spotting a sign for the fire exit, she’d glanced over her shoulder – and that’s when she’d seen him coming. The other, younger guard who’d been with Kemal was sprinting down the corridor after her.
Her lungs had begun to smart with every breath but she’d slammed into the fire exit door, kicking it open. It led out into the darkness and a metal staircase. Two floors below a gravel path snaked away to a concrete service road. It had seemed like her only escape route.
Holed up in the shadow of the boiler house Kaz started to realize that leaving the building was probably a mistake. She pulled a piece of grit from the sole of her bleeding foot as she struggled to calm her ragged breathing. Her lungs were still sore from smoke inhalation and she glanced around, trying to get her bearings. She seemed to have come out at the back of the hospital, an area of loading bays, ramps and scrubby grass bathed in pools of light from a row of street lamps that followed the loop of the service road. It was eerie and deserted, no one to call upon for help and no witnesses. She needed to get round to the front of the building, to the A&E department where there were bound to be people about.
The fire door slammed, followed by the clatter of boots on the staircase. Her pulse raced; she should’ve kept running. Now, as soon as she broke cover, he’d see her. But staying put wasn’t an option either.
He appeared on the gravel path. She cowered into her dark bolthole and he ran past her down to the concrete road. He was young and fit; the chase had hardly winded him. The fire door banged again and Sadik Kemal trotted down the staircase, talking into his phone.
As he passed her hiding place Kaz caught a snippet of his conversation: ‘. . . and keep your fucking eyes open! Bitch can’t have got far.’
A white transit van cruised into view on the service road. It stopped beside the young guard, who was standing, hands on hips, scanning the back of the hospital. Getting out of the van, the driver handed him a torch. As its piercing beam arced across brickwork illuminating the unlit flank of the building, Sadik joined them, issuing instructions that Kaz couldn’t hear. If she was going to make a break for it, she needed to do it now. Once they started to search the nooks and crannies with the torch she’d be exposed and trapped.
They were possibly a hundred metres away from her. As they moved forward to begin a systematic search she leapt up and propelled herself in a diagonal line towards the road. Clocking her immediately, Sadik shouted at the driver, who jumped into the van and started it up.
Kaz didn’t look back. She ran. Fear and pure adrenaline drove her screaming body on. She hit the concrete roadway and pounded along it, reasoning it would lead her out of the nether regions of the site to the main entrance. She could hear the van behind her; she heard it brake to pick up her pursuers.
Every muscle and sinew straining, she knew she was running for her life. The roar of the engine told her that the vehicle was closing fast, but up ahead she saw the red-and-white traffic barrier. Could she make it that far? Every breath was agonizing. The rough concrete was tearing her feet but terror helped her drive on through the pain. Scooting round the barrier, her heart soared. The van was forced to stop; the young guard sprang from the vehicle to raise the traffic arm. But she was now precious seconds ahead.
As she rounded a corner, the front of the building came into view. She could make out the lights of A&E. She made a beeline for it, darting between cars parked on the taxi rank.
Suddenly a figure stepped out from behind one of the cabs and grabbed her. She struggled to free herself but the chase had drained her of the last ounce of strength. Dizzy and gasping for air she heard a soothing voice in her ear. ‘Kaz, it’s okay! It’s me.’
She was lifted bodily and deposited in the back of a minicab. He jumped in beside her and pulled the sliding door shut. Out of the tinted side window she caught a glimpse of the white transit van driving past. Sadik Kemal was staring straight ahead. They hadn’t seen her. She turned to look at her rescuer for the first time and realized it was the taxi driver who’d brought her mother home from the hospital.
He was keeping a wary eye on the retreating transit through the front window. Turning back, he gave her a grin. ‘Bastards, eh? Don’t worry, you’re safe now.’
She hardly knew him but relief flooded through her. Cowering in the back of his taxi, heart thumping, it took several minutes for her body to catch up with the fact she’d escaped. With lungs still screaming, her mouth gaped wide as she gasped for air.
He took her hand and his touch was gentle. ‘Just breathe. Nice and slow. You’re going to be okay. They’ve gone.’
Kaz did as she was told and gradually each rasping inhalation became marginally less painful.
Unscrewing the top he handed her a plastic bottle of water. ‘Here you go. Drink it slowly.’
She couldn’t help spluttering as she gulped down the cool soothing liquid.
‘Slowly, mate!’
Finally she managed to focus on his face and the name came to her: Darius Johnson. The schoolmate she couldn’t remember had saved her from Sadik Kemal. He was a boy she’d grown up with, he’d known Joey, and in spite of her inbuilt wariness Kaz knew instinctively she could trust him.
30
Staring at the bubbling hot lasagne she’d just microwaved, Nicci decided she’d lost her appetite. She dumped the carton of food in the sink, where it hissed and sizzled, and poured herself a glass of wine.
Karen Phelps had disappeared. If she had a mobile phone it’d almost certainly have been destroyed in the fire, along with everything else. This left Nicci with no means of trying to contact her, nor could the police track her location. Rivlin had dispatched officers to the hospital to search for Phelps, but he seemed to be taking the view that in order to avoid further questioning she could simply have decided to discharge herself. In Nicci’s opinion, that was very unlikely. His offhand attitude during their phone conversation had irritated her too. It sounded as though, having failed to get any proper security in place, he was looking for a way to cover his arse.
Nicci was annoyed with him but she was more annoye
d with herself. If Karen had been left unprotected it was because the police hadn’t regarded it as an urgent priority. And that was her fault. She’d been evasive and withheld information. Another piss-poor judgement call on her part! Taking a slug of wine, she steeled herself. She had to call him back and come clean. Clicking on his number, she wondered if he’d even pick up. She was considering what to do if he didn’t – there was really only one other option: call Stoneham – when he came on the line. ‘Nicci, hi.’ The tone was terse and from the background noise, he was driving.
‘Look, I should’ve told you this before: Karen had a run-in with the Kemals not long before her brother was killed.’
‘A run-in? What sort of run-in?’ He sounded distant. The hands-free mic crackled.
‘I never really got the whole story. But the Kemals got hold of a friend of hers, beat her up pretty badly. Karen got mad and went to rescue her. And she did it by threatening the Kemals with a gun.’ There was silence on the other end of the line, just the soft road hum and the click-clack of an indicator.
‘You’re right. You really should’ve told us that.’ His voice was remote, his reaction impossible to read.
‘I’m sorry. It was complicated. I knew Stoneham wanted to revoke her licence and well—’
‘What the fuck were you thinking, Nicci?’ His anger seemed to erupt from nowhere. ‘I don’t know what your agenda is here—’
‘I don’t have an agenda.’
More silence on the line and the quiet thrum of the engine. Then finally, ‘I’m arriving at the hospital now.’
‘Do you want me to come down?’
‘Why on earth would I want that?’ He was back to cold and disinterested.
‘I thought maybe—’
‘My officers will find her. We don’t need outside help.’
Nicci could feel tears prickling her eyelids. ‘I’m sorry, Tom. I should’ve thought this through.’
‘Are you and Phelps involved in some kind of affair? Is that what this is about? You’re trying to protect your lover?’ He spat the last word. Lover. It sounded sordid. Nicci felt as though she’d been sucker-punched.
The Killer Page 13