After Joey was gunned down, she had wondered at the ease with which Yevgeny Koshkin had negotiated a truce with her brother’s target. How had he done it? A serious attempt had been made on Pudovkin’s life and Tolya Koshkin had been part of it. So what could Yev have possibly said to square things with the billionaire spook? Whatever his ploy, Irina was convinced it had succeeded.
Now she’d come up with some kind of plan that she was either unable or unwilling to explain. She claimed to know Pudovkin’s wife – how?
Pudovkin was a nexus for the various Russian factions in London. They all knew him or knew of him and whatever their loyalties no one dared ignore him. So perhaps it wasn’t so surprising.
Whatever the plan was, it relied on this friend, Alexei. But who the hell was he – and was he more than a friend?
Kaz churned these questions over in her mind as darkness fell. She tried to phone Irina only once. The call went immediately to voicemail. Kaz didn’t leave a message. She had no idea what to say.
To pass the time, she rang her sister. Natalie was still guarded, but it allowed Kaz the illusion that there was at least one person out there who actually cared about her. They chatted about Finlay. Kaz learnt that he was big for his age; the midwife who’d delivered him had commented on the size of his hands. He’d probably grow to be over six foot, Natalie had been told. Neither of them compared him to Joey, although that thought must’ve been in both their minds.
Kaz ended the call thinking that perhaps she’d be better off in her villa by the sea with her little nephew and Natalie, if her sister could be persuaded to join her. And if Irina didn’t sell her down the river to Viktor Pudovkin in the meantime.
For several hours Kaz stared at the television screen, waiting and hoping that Irina would come home. But it wasn’t home, it was simply a way station for both of them and as luxurious and impersonal as any five-star hotel. She’d come back eventually for her precious clothes, that was the only thing Kaz could be sure of.
Whether from exhaustion or the disappointments of the day, she finally fell asleep on the sofa. She was woken by a harsh electronic buzz. It took her several seconds to realize it was the doorbell. She jumped up. Irina had come back.
Running to the door, her stockinged feet skated on the polished wooden floor. She didn’t bother with the spy hole but opened the door with a relieved smile.
But the smile faded when she found herself facing DI Tom Rivlin. He greeted her with a pugnacious look. Lurking behind him with a foolish grin was Eddie Lunt.
73
‘Do you know what the fucking time is?’ Kaz didn’t exactly invite them in but allowed Rivlin and his unlikely sidekick to follow her into the apartment.
‘It’s a bit of an emergency, Karen.’ Rivlin’s eyes were everywhere. ‘You’ve fallen on your feet then.’
‘It belongs to a friend. She’s Russian. How d’you find me, anyway?’
‘We were very grateful for your assistance with the Kemals and the Met have been keeping a protective eye on you.’ In fact, he’d got the address from Raheem. Rivlin’s phone call had woken her up, which she wasn’t too happy about.
‘Well, what d’you want?’
‘We’re looking for Nicci. We thought you might’ve seen her.’
‘Not since Sunday. With you, in that coffee shop.’
Eddie stepped forward. ‘Thing is, Kaz, she’s gone off the grid and we’re really worried. We thought she might’ve had a meet with you but didn’t want anyone else to know.’
‘I ain’t lying, Eddie. I haven’t seen her.’
‘Text? Phone call? Has she tried to contact you?’ Rivlin’s face was pale and drawn. Kaz remembered the intimacy between him and Nicci. His anxiety was obvious. This was personal, he wasn’t just being a cop.
‘No, I’m sorry. Have you checked her flat? Y’know, she sometimes gets a bit upset with stuff. Has too much to drink and crashes out.’
‘I’ve been to the flat, but not inside.’
‘She could be in there, sleeping it off.’
‘I don’t know anyone who’s got a key.’ The cop turned hopefully to Eddie. ‘Would anyone at your place?’
Eddie was shifting from foot to foot and he folded his arms over his ample paunch. ‘Thing is . . .’ He sighed and shot a look at Rivlin. ‘She’s gonna kill me for telling you this . . .’
‘Then you should definitely tell me.’
‘It’s a bit complicated.’
Kaz and Rivlin were both staring at him. He took a breath. ‘She planted some bugs in Pudovkin’s house. She went there on a bodyguarding job. The opportunity presented itself.’
‘Why would she target him?’ The cop glared at Kaz. ‘You know anything about this? Is it because of your friend who was murdered? The MP? What was her name?’
‘Helen Warner.’ Kaz met his eye. She had a sinking feeling. Here he was again, the fucking billionaire spook. ‘Okay, look, on Sunday, while you was getting the coffees, she told me about the bugs. She said she was going to get the evidence to take Pudovkin down.’
Rivlin shook his head in disbelief. ‘What? Did neither of you tell her how mad this is, not to mention illegal?’
Kaz didn’t reply. Of course she knew how mad it was. She’d simply hoped that Nicci would come to her senses and realize it too.
Eddie gave a wry grin. ‘She’s not an easy woman to argue with, mate. What complicates the issue is that we suspect SBA has been taken over by a bloke who works for Pudovkin.’
‘Why?’
‘That’s what Nicci wanted to know.’
Rivlin pulled out a chair from the dining table and slumped down on it. ‘I don’t believe what I’m hearing here.’ He shot an irate glance at Eddie. ‘Are you telling me the whole story? ’Cause if you’re not, you’d better do it right now.’
Eddie pulled out a chair and sat down beside him. ‘Well, I was tracking her phone. A precaution. In case she needed backup.’
‘And what kind of fucking backup were you going to provide?’ Rivlin was struggling to keep his temper.
‘She said she was meeting this cleaning contractor.’ He glanced up at Kaz. ‘I thought that was a cover and she was probably meeting you. She was on Chelsea Harbour Pier when the signal disappeared.’
Kaz shrugged. She appeared calm but her brain had started to seethe with thoughts of Pudovkin. ‘She dumped it. She wanted to be sure no one could follow her.’
Rivlin was chewing his thumbnail. ‘What time?’
‘About ten o’clock this morning.’
The cop checked his watch. ‘You mean yesterday morning. So we’re talking nearly sixteen hours ago.’
‘Where did she go then? To Pudovkin’s?’ A battle was going on in Kaz’s mind. This wasn’t her concern, she wasn’t responsible for Nicci. If she’d been crazy enough to go after Pudovkin on her own – but at the same time just the thought of that bastard enraged Kaz. He’d had Helen killed to protect Robert Hollister and he’d had Joey shot in the street; the rich murdering scumbag thought he was untouchable. Only Nicci had the balls to consider challenging that assumption.
Eddie shook his head wearily. ‘She didn’t go to the cleaning contractor, ’cause I talked to him.’
‘What if he was lying?’ Rivlin rapped the table with his finger.
‘That don’t make sense. She tells the office that’s where she’s going, then she dumps the phone ’cause she don’t want to be followed.’
Kaz joined the two men at the table. ‘It makes sense, Eddie. If she was off to meet this bloke but then she realizes she’s being followed. And chucking a phone – she wouldn’t do that unless she was really worried.’
Rivlin leant forward. ‘What did she want with the cleaning contractor? Information?’
‘Access? Cleaners go everywhere. No one takes any notice of them.’
Eddie frowned. ‘Well, she was worried that the bug we’d planted wouldn’t get us that far. We needed more.’ A sorrowful look came into his eye. ‘I did check about
midday, and the one she put in Pudovkin’s library had gone dead.’
‘You think it’s been discovered?’
Eddie couldn’t meet Kaz’s eye. ‘Probably. To tell the truth, that’s when I started to get really worried.’
Kaz took a deep breath. The connection between her and Nicci Armstrong was something she couldn’t explain, either to these two, or to herself. But if Pudovkin had got hold of Nicci, that really was the last straw. She felt a cold rage seeping into her veins.
But her voice was deceptively calm. ‘We need to find her.’
74
The small industrial unit – offices, storage and garaging for a fleet of vans – from which Samir Naseer ran his cleaning firm, was on a trading estate in Acton. They started early, well before dawn, and Naseer used that quiet time to catch up on his accounts. It was a competitive business so to keep costs down he ran most of the back office functions himself. It meant working ridiculous hours, but it was worth it. The company specialized in the high-end luxury residential sector and made a healthy profit.
Naseer was alone in the office and didn’t expect any callers at five a.m. so the hammering on the door surprised him. When he saw Eddie Lunt, the suspicious bod who’d been snooping round earlier, he felt a mixture of anxiety and irritation.
He got up slowly from his desk and took his time opening the door. But there were two other people with Lunt, a tall bloke and a woman.
The bloke came through the door first and he shoved a warrant card in Samir’s face. ‘I’m DI Rivlin, Mr Naseer. And I’ve got a few questions for you and not much time. So, you need to tell me the truth. Got that?’
Naseer held out his palms in a placatory gesture. ‘I am always happy to help the police, Inspector.’
‘Glad to hear it. Nicci Armstrong? Did she come to see you yesterday?’
Naseer shot a glance in Eddie Lunt’s direction. But Rivlin stepped forward. ‘Don’t look at him. I’m not interested in anything you might have said earlier. Just tell the truth to me now.’
‘I promised her my discretion.’ Naseer’s brow furrowed. ‘She’s a lovely lady. I don’t want to let her down or get her in trouble.’
‘I assure you that you’re not. So she came to see you? When?’
The little cleaning contractor sighed and shrugged. ‘Yesterday morning. Eleven o’clock, I think. But she didn’t come here. I met her at Chelsea Wharf, where we service some apartments. She helped me before. She understands the difficulties of this business. So obviously I was anxious to cooperate.’
‘Cooperate with what?’ Rivlin had his arms folded and was flanked by Eddie and Kaz. There was a tension rippling through all three; they knew what they were about to hear was unlikely to be good news.
Naseer blinked behind his rimless glasses; to him they seemed intimidating and the last thing he wanted was trouble with the police.
Adjusting the glasses, he took a breath. ‘We share a client in Holland Park. Well, not a regular client. We specialize in removing stains from Persian rugs. He called us in for that. Ms Armstrong – well, her firm, SBA – has been hired to review his security. It turns out there were some issues around entry codes and I had to admit that I did still have an entry code on file for those particular premises. You have to understand, Inspector, I didn’t realize I’d done anything wrong. Most of my clients aren’t quite so fastidious. They don’t want to have to bother letting cleaners in and out, and they trust us.’
‘Let me understand you correctly, Mr Naseer. You had these entry codes and you gave them to Nicci?’
‘I was anxious not to lose any future business and Ms Armstrong said that if I no longer had the codes then the client need never know. I gave her the codes then erased them from my database. I was grateful.’
‘And who owns these premises?’ Rivlin asked the question although they all felt the answer screaming them in the face.
‘A Russian gentleman: Mr Pudovkin.’
Kaz had to smile to herself. The skill with which Nicci had blagged the security codes to Pudovkin’s house out of the unsuspecting cleaning contractor put her in the same league as a top-flight fraudster. But cops often made the best villains.
Rivlin’s tight, angry face obviously frightened Naseer.
‘Will I need to come to the police station and make a statement?’
‘Not at present, Mr Naseer. We’ll be in touch if we need anything further from you.’ Rivlin turned on his heel, conscious only of the need to get out of there. Then he recollected himself and paused: ‘Oh, and thank you for your help.’
Rivlin, Kaz and Eddie reconvened on the pavement outside. It was still dark. Naseer’s cleaners were loading supplies into their vans.
Rivlin stared at his watch; he was holding it together – just. ‘If she got an entry code at eleven . . . maybe she went in some time in the afternoon. That’s, I dunno—’ He rubbed his face, willing himself to focus.
Kaz did the maths for him. ‘Over twelve hours ago. Which means, yeah, they’ve probably got her.’
75
She was about the last person Simon Blake would’ve expected to find on his doorstep at seven o’clock in the morning. But when he opened the door he found Kaz Phelps glaring at him.
There was no preamble. ‘We need you to help us find Nicci.’
Eddie Lunt was hovering behind her; he’d driven them down from London. Blake had little option but to invite them in. His wife was getting the boys up and the dog was still dozing in her basket.
He led them into the kitchen, but only so Heather and his sons wouldn’t hear their conversation. ‘Right, now one of you two jokers can tell me what’s going on.’
Eddie could see he wasn’t best pleased. ‘I’m sorry, boss, but—’
Kaz didn’t let him finish. ‘Whatever you’re playing at with Pudovkin and your fucking firm, you need to sort this out.’
‘Really?’ Blake gave her a disdainful look. ‘And what concern is this of yours?’
‘Nicci decided to target Pudovkin, put him under surveillance. ’Cause none of the rest of you useless cops and ex-cops have got the balls. We think she went into his place in Holland Park, probably sometime yesterday afternoon. No one’s seen her since.’
Blake huffed, shot a glance at Eddie. ‘Are you sure of your facts here?’
Eddie nodded. ‘Yeah. Once we realized the firm had been taken over and that you was stepping back—’
‘Who told you it had been taken over?’ The anger in Blake’s voice was palpable.
‘You said go with the flow.’
‘Did you and Nicci really think I would sell the company to a man like Pudovkin?’
‘Naylor’s Pudovkin’s man, we knew that.’
Blake shook his head. ‘How could Nicci be so stupid?’
Eddie gave him a surly look. ‘With all due respect, maybe you should’ve trusted us a bit more.’
‘That wasn’t possible.’ Standing in his pyjamas and bathrobe, Blake was looking shell-shocked.
Kaz stepped forward. ‘We haven’t got time for this. If that bastard’s had Nicci murdered, it’s on your head, Blake.’
Heather walked into the room in time to hear this. She stared at her husband. ‘What’s going on, Simon?’
He heaved another heavy sigh. He’d known for some time that he was playing a dangerous game, but what he hadn’t factored in was Nicci. ‘Okay, let’s not jump to conclusions. All we know is that she’s disappeared, right?’
‘Getting on for maybe fourteen hours ago.’ Kaz was in his face, she wasn’t letting him off the hook. ‘So what you gonna do?’
The rage pulsing off Kaz forced him to take a step back. ‘I can see you’re upset, Karen. But this isn’t helpful.’
‘You don’t even know how to sort this out, do you?’ She made no attempt to hide her scorn.
He glanced at his wife. She gave him a distraught look. ‘Simon?’
But Blake turned to face Kaz, his voice cracking. ‘You’re not the only one here who ca
res about Nicci Armstrong.’
76
He knew he should speak to someone in the Met and wondered about asking Raheem to help him. But going through the correct procedures would simply take too long. Even if he only managed to fire a warning shot across their bows, it might be enough. So, standing on the porticoed doorstep of the Holland Park mansion, Tom Rivlin took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.
He had his warrant card ready and showed it to the maid who answered the door. She invited him in and asked him to wait in the hall. The palatial surroundings exuded power and privilege; the idea was to awe the visitor into submission. But Rivlin was too keyed up. He scanned the place with a dispassionate eye, focusing on the cameras and noting that, if Nicci had been here, there would be evidence.
After several minutes a large black guy with an easy smile appeared. The suit accentuated his physique and the perfect shine on the shoes suggested he was ex-military.
He grinned and held out his hand to shake. ‘Jerome Todd. I’m head of security. Can I help you?’
Rivlin ignored the proffered hand and held up his warrant card. ‘DI Rivlin. I’m here to see Mr Pudovkin.’
‘It’s a bit early, Inspector. Do you have an appointment?’
‘I don’t need an appointment. Could you tell Mr Pudovkin I’m here.’
‘I can give you the contact details for Mr Pudovkin’s lawyers and you can make an appointment.’
Rivlin eyeballed the security guard. They were a similar height, but Jerome was around twenty kilograms heavier and it was all muscle.
The cop smiled. ‘Here’s the thing, Mr Todd. You can fob me off now and I will come back with a warrant to search these premises and a vanload of armed officers from SCO19. I don’t think your boss will appreciate that when the matter could be resolved now with a simple conversation.’
‘You’ll have to have that conversation with me, Inspector. Mr Pudovkin left very early for a business lunch in Dubai.’
The Killer Page 32