So she dipped her head and hunched her shoulders. She rarely resorted to girly tricks but in the circumstances she judged it was worth a go.
Blinking several times to moisten her eyes she gazed up at him. ‘You have to understand, babes, I’ve had a really shitty time.’
‘Yeah, and who helped you?’ He included Darius with a glance. ‘Who rescued you? Is it wrong to expect a bit of gratitude?’
‘No.’ She fluttered her eyelids like a chastened fawn. ‘You don’t get it, do you?’
‘Get what?’
‘Seeing you again, happy, married. That was tough. I needed to be on my own for a bit. Take some time to adjust.’
He unfolded his arms, put his hands on his hips and sighed. She avoided his eye and stared demurely at the floor in the hope that if she looked weak and pathetic enough, he’d buy it.
‘Okay, I know it’s been tough, but you didn’t have to run off. I thought we had a deal.’ Now he sounded petulant.
Raising her eyes, Kaz gave him a simpering smile. ‘Yeah, we do. You were Joey’s partner. You’re entitled to fifty per cent, no question.’ Part of her didn’t really expect him to fall for such a blatant ploy. Then support came from an unexpected quarter.
Darius stepped forward. ‘Fits with what she’s been doing, Paul. Just wandering around on her own all day.’
Kaz shot him a look; so he hadn’t told Paul about the lawyer and the places they’d been. Or maybe he hadn’t had the chance? What the hell was his game? Playing her and Paul off against each other?
Paul scratched his chin; he looked unsure. ‘You think she’s telling the truth then?’
‘Yeah. I do.’ Darius shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and smiled.
Tears were welling up in Natalie’s eyes. ‘Give him the envelope, Kaz! Then we can all go home.’
Kaz sighed. ‘He can have the envelope, if that’s what he’s here for. It’s in my room. It’s got thirty grand in it, minus what I’ve spent.’
Paul’s gaze was flicking back and forth between the sisters. It was becoming increasingly apparent to Kaz that he hadn’t thought this through. He’d always been too impulsive and reactive in his thinking, rather than strategic. That’s why, although he was older, he’d ended up working for Joey and not the other way round.
The fact she’d legged it had hacked him off and so he’d gone after Natalie. Threatening her and Finlay must’ve seemed like a good idea. But now he wasn’t sure how to follow it through. Dealing with blokes was one thing – with them, violence was a straightforward transaction – but he lost the plot when it came to women. He always had. Kaz was tempted to feel sorry for him, but she didn’t.
Getting up slowly and tilting her head coyly, she made sure she was still smaller than him. ‘Can we have a word? In private.’
He gave her a curt nod, turned to Darius. ‘Get the little lad an ice cream.’
Paul strode out on to the terrace, Kaz following in his wake. He turned to face her. ‘You say you’re jealous about me and Rafa, but what about this girl you was in love with?’
Kaz didn’t miss a beat. ‘I was in the nick. I couldn’t have the man I wanted, the man I spent years inside dreaming about. I didn’t want any other bloke, so it seemed like a good alternative.’
His face softened. ‘Sorry, babes. I never realized.’ This was proving much simpler than Kaz had imagined.
‘Rafa’s lovely. And Lacey’s so sweet. But it was hard not to be jealous.’ Kaz’s eyes welled up and in a detached part of her brain she reflected that this must be what actors did: took a smidgen of an emotion that was genuine and inflated it.
‘Is that why you called yourself Mrs Ackroyd?’ A huskiness had crept into his voice and a hint of lust into his eye. Kaz watched the transformation with a certain fascination. He was such easy meat. Did he really think he was about to get his leg over, plus all Joey’s cash?
She raised her gaze to meet his. ‘Yeah, I suppose.’
He reached out and stroked her arm. She had the impression he was about to move in on her. He was on the hook. If she was going to reel him in, it was now or never.
She grabbed his hand. ‘Can I tell you a terrible secret?’
‘Course you can.’ He cradled her palm. He was staring at her lips and her breasts.
‘While I’ve been wandering around, I’ve been making a plan. I’ve decided to kill Sadik Kemal.’
This stopped Paul Ackroyd in his tracks. ‘Fuck me, you serious?’
‘I got no choice. Those bastards’ll never give up. I’m gonna take him out.’
He shook his head in disbelief. ‘Listen, you wanna go down that road, I got someone I can call. You don’t have to—’
She looked up at him with all the flirty fervour she could muster. ‘Thing is, babes, I want to do it myself. I have to. After what they done to me and my family.’ She swallowed hard and, like magic, the tears came. ‘After what they done to Mum. When I seen her in that hospital bed. Even with the drugs. Oh, Paul, the pain she’s in! I wanna make that bastard pay. It’s what Joey would’ve done.’
Letting go of her hand, he blinked at her several times, a mixture of incredulity and respect. ‘How? I mean a bloke like that? He’s a tough customer.’
She unzipped her shoulder bag and showed him the gun.
‘Yeah, but he ain’t bulletproof. I got it all worked out. But it’s our secret. Promise me, babe!’
58
Nicci met Eddie Lunt in a branch of Pizza Express on Baker Street. He was demolishing a Romana with spicy beef and extra pepperoni. She ordered a coffee and watched him eat.
In between large mouthfuls he brought her up to speed. ‘So Naylor says, “I want you to go round and see this bloke, pick up the gear.” Took me ages to find it. Warehouse out beyond Heathrow.’
Eddie lifted up the hessian shopping bag at his feet. Nicci took it and peered inside. ‘Listening devices? They’re not very big.’
‘GSM surveillance bugs. Plant them in the target area, voice-activated, they transmit back to a mobile phone. He told me to go and get them, then liaise with Bharat.’
Nicci shook her head wearily. ‘How many in here?’
‘Fifty. Second consignment to be picked up next week.’
‘I can’t believe Simon would ever agree to us carrying out blanket surveillance like this. It’s a total betrayal of client trust.’
Eddie shrugged and wiped his mouth with a napkin. ‘You tried calling him again?’
‘He’s not picking up.’
‘How about going round to his place?’
She sighed. ‘I’ve thought of that. But if he’s not there, I don’t want to upset Heather.’
Eddie took another bite of pizza, chewed it briefly and swallowed it down. ‘I’ve met some bent coppers in my time – no offence – but this Naylor, there’s something more than dodgy about him.’
‘I would agree with that.’
‘So what d’you want to do?’
‘Why are you asking me?’
‘’Cause as far as I’m concerned, you’re my boss until Blake tells me otherwise.’
Nicci gazed at him. She found him a difficult bloke to fathom. Pascale – clever, hard-working, serious-minded – her loyalty to the shared values of the firm Nicci would’ve expected. Yet she’d shown herself more than willing to follow Naylor’s instructions, slipping seamlessly over to the new regime. Whereas Eddie Lunt, a man whose moral compass Nicci would never have relied on, appeared to have the same instinctive response to the situation as her. It was unsettling.
Eddie prodded his side salad with a fork. ‘The other interesting thing is that this warehouse I went to, sort of electrical wholesalers, the bloke I was told to ask for was Russian.’
Nicci shot him a worried glance. ‘You sure?’
‘Dmitri.’ He shrugged. ‘Not saying we should read anything into that, but . . .’
‘Naylor says he’s got a client who wants to locate Karen Phelps. Told me to find her.’
�
��Fuck a duck! That has to be Pudovkin.’
She nodded. ‘Question is, who exactly is he as far as Naylor’s concerned? Client? Boss? Maybe even our new investor? Who the hell knows?’
‘You’ve got to find Blake.’
‘No, Eddie. I need you to find him. Discreetly.’ She got to her feet. ‘I’m due at the Qassims’. In fact, I’m late. Naylor is expecting us to spy on them. I want to know why. What are we being set up to do? Is it a random trawl or something specific?’
He reached into the bag and brought out several of the bugs. ‘You could take some of these.’
Nicci scowled at him. ‘Use them, you mean?’
‘I thought maybe I’d put one in Naylor’s office? Play him at his own game.’
She grinned and took the bugs. ‘Fuck it. Why not?’
59
Darius escorted Natalie and Finlay to Stratford station; he’d offered to take them all the way home, but she’d categorically refused. This followed a faintly farcical game of pass-the-parcel with ten thousand pounds.
They’d all accompanied Kaz to her room and she’d offered one of the unopened shrink-wrapped packets of cash to Paul Ackroyd. He’d told her to keep it. She’d insisted. She didn’t want any more misunderstandings. In the end he split the packet open, divided it into three wedges, gave one to Natalie, one to Kaz and shoved the third in his jacket pocket. They were partners, he told them. And Kaz was right: no more misunderstandings.
While Darius took her sister to the station, Kaz suggested she and Paul return to the bar for a drink. She bought him a large vodka and Red Bull and herself a black coffee. It was time for the second phase of her plan, but, in reality, there was no plan. It was more of an improvisation. She was thinking on her feet and had to remind herself to take care. Paul was easy to sucker in one way, but he wasn’t a complete fool. Maybe she needed to tone down the seduction a notch; she didn’t want to overplay her hand, nor did she want to have to sleep with him.
As they settled on their bar stools she asked him to show her a picture of Lacey. He pulled out his phone and found a video clip of his little girl playing in the garden.
As he watched it, he became misty-eyed. ‘Listen, babes, I wouldn’t want Rafa to find out—’
Kaz put her hand on his arm. ‘Paul, I totally get it. Your family means everything to you. And nothing’s happened. So there’s nothing to lie about.’
He looked faintly disappointed.
She gave him a wistful smile. ‘In another life, eh? Maybe I really would’ve been Mrs Ackroyd.’
‘Yeah.’ He downed his vodka and ordered another.
Kaz put on a serious face. ‘So let’s talk business, eh? Here’s what I know. You seen the envelope Joey left for Natalie – all it contained was cash.’
‘He probably thought she couldn’t cope with anything else. She’s a bit flaky.’
‘Yeah, well, she’s done a lot of drugs. But remember you said to me that what I had to do was think. That I knew more than I realized. Turns out you was right.’
‘You’ve remembered something about the offshore accounts?’
‘Not yet. But I’ve remembered about the skunk factories.’
A glower of annoyance spread across his features. ‘That crafty bastard! I knew he’d started growing skunk. That was my fucking idea, y’know! But I was stuck out in Ibiza.’
‘Joey set up five factories. He took me to visit one, up off Seven Sisters Road.’
‘Devious sod!’
Kaz grinned. ‘That was Joey.’
‘Five! How big?’
‘Not sure. The one I saw was in an old clothing factory. Hundreds of plants.’
Paul knocked back his second large vodka. ‘Now do you see why I’m so pissed off about all this? I was his partner and he shafted me.’ He patted her hand. ‘I know that’s not your fault, babes.’
Kaz smiled sweetly. ‘He was my brother. I feel responsible.’
‘You don’t have to.’
‘I do. And I think by rights you should have them. I mean, what are me and Nat gonna do with them?’
‘Who runs them now?’
‘Joey had this old Vietnamese geezer called Quan. Him and his family did the actual growing. But when Joey got nicked and went to prison, things got a bit lairy. The Kemals moved in on them.’
‘The Kemals? The lot that was after you?’
‘I think it’s all connected. North-east London is their turf, that’s probably how they saw it. But then Joey sent Yevgeny to sort them out.’
‘His Russian enforcer? Great big bastard, I remember him.’
‘It was just before Joey died. Yev got rid of the Kemals, got the factories back, ’cause he told me. Then at Joey’s funeral, he got whacked.’
‘By the Kemals?’
‘That’s what the old bill reckons.’
Paul signalled the barman and ordered another drink. ‘I don’t know that I want to mix it with the likes of them.’
‘I told you: you don’t have to. I’m gonna deal with them.’
He gave her an amused but indulgent smile. ‘Babes, be realistic. They whacked the Russian – what do you think they’re gonna do to you?’
‘They’re only thugs, they’re not invincible. They’ve had three goes at killing me and they haven’t succeeded.’
‘I admire your balls, but—’
‘I want you to get in touch with them and offer to set me up.’
‘What?’
‘You tell ’em . . . you’ll give them me in return for a large consignment of their best weed. And you want to see where it’s grown. Quality control. You want to meet them at the place off Seven Sisters Road. You’ll bring me along, do the swap there.’
Paul shook his head. ‘That is never gonna work. Not in a million years.’
‘It will, because they won’t be expecting it.’
‘You gonna turn up and shoot them?’
‘Why not? I get rid of them, you get the factories.’
She watched him thinking about it. He was right, it was a completely mad idea. But would his greed outweigh his fear?
Reaching over, she laid a hand on his. ‘Look, if you feel it’s too risky, say no. You got a nice life.’ She smiled sadly. ‘A lovely family. Why stick your neck out? But I got nothing to lose, no one to go home to. So I’m going after the Kemals one way or another.’
She let her gaze drift off and out of the window. Giving the impression she was a lonely lost soul wasn’t really that much of an act. He watched her for a moment.
Then he drained his glass and slapped it down on the bar. ‘Fuck it!’ He had three double vodkas inside him, fuelling his bravado. ‘Let’s do it! We’re partners, right?’
Her gaze returned to his face. ‘Yeah.’ She lifted his hand to her lips and kissed it. ‘Thanks, babe. I knew I could rely on you.’
60
Nicci was expecting to spend the remainder of her afternoon in the Qassims’ kitchen and, if she got lucky and he was out, she planned to have a good snoop around the rest of the house. She wasn’t lucky.
Within moments of her arrival, Turki bin Qassim appeared with a scowl on his face. ‘You’re late. I phoned your office and told them two o’clock.’
‘Sorry, I didn’t get the message.’
‘I don’t pay to be kept waiting. Nor does my wife.’ He beckoned for her to follow him. ‘Ayisha has been invited to a caviar tasting. My driver will take you. Make sure she’s all right.’
He walked briskly from the kitchen through the hall and into the drawing room. The furniture was reproduction Louis Quinze and, sitting in a satin-backed armchair, Nicci finally got her first glimpse of the woman she’d been hired to protect. She wore a cream silk hijab, sat with her hands demurely folded in her lap and glanced up as her husband entered the room. Nicci did a double take. Had she been hired as a bodyguard or a babysitter?
Ayisha was beautiful in the manner of a startled fawn, but she was hardly more than a child. Nicci’s best guess was sixteen. Would
n’t she have to be that for them to be legally married? Nicci wasn’t sure. However, one thing soon became clear: this was no love match.
Turki pursed his lips in annoyance. ‘This is Nicci, the bodyguard. She will take you.’
His wife gave him a surly look and replied in Arabic.
‘Speak English!’ His tone suggested a man already at the end of his tether.
Nicci realized she’d inadvertently stepped into the middle of a ferocious battle of wills. Though Ayisha gave the initial impression of being a meek child bride, that was just a front.
She tossed her head, every inch the sulky teen. ‘I don’t want to go.’
‘This is business. His wife has invited you. These are important people. You must go and be polite.’
‘Caviar tastes like shit.’
‘Don’t eat it.’
‘How will I be polite if I don’t eat it?’
Turki shovelled his hands through his thick dark hair and growled in frustration. ‘I’ll take your phone away.’
Ayisha pulled a large iPhone 6 in a diamond-encrusted case from her pocket and held it out. ‘Take it! I tell my father that you beat me.’
Turki spun on his heel and faced Nicci. ‘You were a fucking cop. You make her go!’
Nicci stared at him in disbelief. ‘Excuse me?’
Ignoring both women, he turned and stalked out of the room. Nicci looked at Ayisha, who gave her a guileless smile. ‘So what are you? One of his whores?’
Nicci fixed her with a chilly stare. ‘No. I’ve been employed to protect you.’
‘My father is the Emir’s third cousin, that’s why he married me.’
‘Not your stunning personality then.’
The girl sniggered. ‘That’s rude. I could have you sacked.’
‘You’d be doing us both a favour.’
Ayisha got up from the chair. Small and delicate, the hijab was her only concession to tradition. The skinny jeans were Roberto Cavalli, the lacy tunic top was Oscar de la Renta, her tiny wrists and fingers were weighed down with jewellery.
She giggled again, a hollow, slightly desperate laugh, Nicci thought. ‘Well, let’s go and eat shitty caviar, shall we?’
The Killer Page 26