The security guard’s cold eyes bored into him and Rivlin got the distinct impression he was enjoying the game.
The cop shrugged. ‘I have no way of knowing whether you’re telling the truth.’
Jerome grinned. ‘No. You don’t. So why don’t you say your piece, mate, and we’ll take it from there.’
‘Do you know Nicci Armstrong? She’s a private investigator working for Simon Blake Associates.’
‘Yeah, Nicci. Cute. I thought she was a bodyguard. Least, that’s what she said she was doing when she came here.’
The sarcasm in his tone annoyed Rivlin, as did the blatant implication that Nicci had lied to conceal an ulterior motive.
‘I understand her job includes both security and investigations.’
Jerome chuckled. ‘Well, it’s a tough business. Full of ex-cops trying to make themselves a rep, maybe cutting a few corners to get ahead. She a special friend of yours?’
The security guard’s attempts to needle him had the effect of crystallizing Rivlin’s anger. He was used to dealing with sleazebags like this and the training kicked in.
‘When did you last see her?’
‘Only met her the once. And you know what I thought? I wouldn’t mind giving her one myself.’
‘She’s missing. You know anything about that?’
‘Why would I?’ Amusement danced in his eyes.
Rivlin leant forward. ‘You kill many ragheads, Jerome? When you were out there in Helmand or whatever hell-hole they sent you to. ’Cause here’s the thing you need to understand: you’re not in bandit country any more. You harm one hair on her head and we will come for you.’
The security guard chuckled again. ‘Yeah, right. Look around you, copper. This ain’t your manor. You got no jurisdiction here.’
‘Your boss is not above the law. And think about this: when pressure gets put on him, you think he’ll have any loyalty to you? I’m not naive, I know how money works and the influence it buys. But if he wants to stay in London and needs to placate the authorities, he’ll need a fall guy. Wonder who that’ll be?’
Jerome dismissed this with a snicker and a shake of the head. ‘You don’t know shit ’bout how this world works, mate.’
‘Don’t I? ’Cause I’m one of the little guys, one of the plebs? But so are you, mate. So are you. Don’t be a sucker. Think about what I’ve said.’
Producing a business card from his pocket, Rivlin tucked it under the lapel of Jerome’s slick suit. ‘My number.’ And turning on his heel, he headed for the door.
77
Kaz and Eddie drove back to London largely in silence. They had the frustration of rush-hour traffic to contend with and by the time they arrived at SBA’s offices, Blake was already there. He’d taken the train.
Feeling frazzled from lack of sleep, Kaz was in no mood to be patient. Blake had assured them, before they left Reigate, that he’d make some calls. She saw him through the glass wall of the conference room and, ignoring the receptionist’s protestations, she barged straight in.
Blake had removed his jacket and was standing, hands on hips, addressing a thin, balding man with vulpine features.
Kaz glared at them both. ‘Who’s he?’
Blake sighed. ‘Colin, meet Karen Phelps. Here in her capacity as . . . what? Nicci’s friend?’
McCain gave her a disdainful look. ‘The gangster’s sister? Jesus wept!’
‘And who the fuck are you, Colin?’ Kaz folded her arms and stood her ground. Encouraged by her brazen contempt, Eddie sidled into the room in her wake.
‘This is Eddie Lunt – he works for me.’
Colin McCain nodded and raised his eyebrows. ‘Well, your friend has certainly created an awkward situation for us.’
His calm, slightly bored tone infuriated Kaz. ‘Really? And who the fuck is us?’
Blake and McCain exchanged looks, but it was Eddie who answered. ‘MI5, right?’
Blake sighed, slipping his hands into his trouser pockets. ‘Listen, you two, locating Nicci is our absolute priority. And that’s what we’re trying to do.’
‘Our absolute priority? You part of the spook brigade too?’
Blake met her eye. ‘No.’
‘How about this for an idea then?’ There was no mistaking the vitriol in Kaz’s voice. ‘Go round to Pudovkin’s house and kick the fucking door down.’
McCain opened his palms. ‘If I thought that would achieve the objective—’
He didn’t have a chance to finish. There was a small commotion in the reception area, with Alicia trying desperately to assert her authority, then Tom Rivlin swung open the plate-glass door. He, too, had a look of cold fury on his face. Kaz had never thought she’d be glad to see a cop, but she was.
Rivlin scanned the room. ‘Who’s McCain?’
‘That would be me.’ The MI5 officer puffed out his cheeks. This was a grade-A balls-up and he blamed Blake for not keeping his people under proper control.
The cop pulled out his warrant card. ‘I’m DI Rivlin, Essex Police. I’ve just been to see the Commander of SCD7. She assures me you’re going to sort this out. I assured her that if you don’t, and if any harm comes to Nicci, I’m going to the press.’
McCain didn’t look like he was about to placate the officer, so Blake stepped forward and offered his hand to Rivlin. ‘I’m Simon Blake. You need to understand, Nicci’s safety matters to me, to us, more than anything. We’ve already got the matter in hand.’
‘In hand? How? There’s good evidence to suggest that Nicci’s been kidnapped—’
McCain held up his palm. ‘Look, Rivlin, don’t come in here and try to play the righteous policeman. She’s a private citizen who’s gone blundering into an ongoing security operation and, in doing so, has probably broken the law. This isn’t our fault.’
Rivlin turned on Blake. ‘And whose fault is it then? How was she to know?’
‘Me.’ Blake looked him in the eye. ‘I take full responsibility. Okay?’
McCain’s phone buzzed. Giving them all a sour look, he answered it. ‘Yes. Right-oh.’ He strode out of the room to continue the conversation.
Blake ran his fingers over his close-cropped scalp. He was sweating. Rivlin and Phelps were both glaring at him. Eddie Lunt was perched on the end of the conference table, watching everyone with tense concern.
Blake took a breath and scanned all three. ‘Look, I admit I should’ve taken Nicci into my confidence. You too, Eddie. Then this would never have happened. But Thames House were insistent. And I suppose I underestimated her.’
‘Is she gonna be all right?’ Kaz fixed him with a steely look. ‘’Cause you know full well it was Pudovkin who had Helen Warner murdered.’
‘Yes. I know that. In fact, it’s part of the reason I agreed to this in the first place.’
‘Agreed to what exactly?’ Rivlin moved in on him, staring him down.
Blake shook his head wearily as he sank into a chair; everything seemed to be spiralling out of his control and the possibility he could’ve caused Nicci Armstrong’s death was ripping him apart.
He focused on Kaz. ‘You know that Nicci and I did our level best to connect Robert Hollister and Viktor Pudovkin with Helen Warner’s murder. I practically bankrupted this firm in the process.’
‘Yeah, and what Nicci told me was that you was warned off!’
‘The Met didn’t have the evidence to make a criminal case. But no one gave up. You think that the notion that a foreign national probably had a British Member of Parliament murdered here in London doesn’t concern the powers that be? And that’s before we even get on to the reasons why he did it.’
Rivlin pitched in. ‘What are you saying? There’s an ongoing security operation targeting Viktor Pudovkin?’
‘Yes.’
‘How did you get involved with it?’
Blake shrugged. ‘Colin McCain asked me to help. He and I go way back.’
Rivlin gave a bitter shake of the head. ‘Why the hell didn’t you trust
Nicci with this? Don’t you and she go way back too?’
‘I wanted to. Thames House thought it was too risky.’ He glanced at Kaz. ‘It was when your brother tried to shoot Pudovkin that the whole thing kicked up a gear.’
‘Whatever the fuck you lot think, I didn’t ask him to do that.’
Blake sighed. ‘The point is, Pudovkin somehow got it into his head that it was a professional hit commissioned by Moscow.’
Kaz chuckled. ‘My brother was a lot of things, but I don’t see him working for Putin.’
‘Might not have been true, but Pudovkin believed it and he was desperate.’
Kaz walked over to the window; she needed time to process this. It was all starting to make sense. Could this be the story Yevgeny had sold Pudovkin? To stop him coming after them and to protect her?
Eddie Lunt folded his arms. ‘Well, I listened to the surveillance material between Pudovkin and Naylor. Sounds like SBA is being turned into a front to gather intel.’
Blake nodded. ‘That’s about the size of it. Pudovkin was on the lookout for a company he could buy out and use. He got nudged in our direction.’
Rivlin was still looming over him. ‘What sort of intel?’
‘London has more Russian agents today than during the Cold War. But what they’re mainly interested in is what their own citizens are up to – all these Russians who are living the high life over here. So Pudovkin came up with the idea of going into competition with his old comrades in the FSB and gathering better information than them on corrupt Russian officials and businessmen and their money-laundering scams. Then he could send it all back home as a gift for Putin.’
Eddie grinned. ‘He thought the Kremlin had tried to top him and this is his way of getting them back onside.’
‘The operation was to run initially for up to a year.’
‘And what do you get out of it? A golden handshake from the government?’ Rivlin eyeballed Blake.
‘There’s obviously a compensation package.’
Rivlin jerked a thumb in Eddie’s direction. ‘Were any of your employees going to get a share of that?’
Kaz moved back across the room to face the ex-cop. ‘Why the hell didn’t you tell Nicci?’
‘Yeah, I should have. But it was early days. We were only just starting to—’
Eddie was gazing through the glass wall into the reception area, so he saw Naylor first. He spun round to Blake. ‘Shit, boss, it’s Naylor! I’d forgotten about him.’
But before Blake could respond, Naylor was opening the door. ‘Morning, one and all.’ The beard bounced, revealing his piratical sneer.
Blake inhaled. ‘What did he say?’
‘He’s being very cagey. Could be they’ve got her. Could be she’s already dead. I didn’t want to spook him.’
Rivlin glared at the new arrival. ‘Who you talking about?’
‘Jerome. He’s Pudovkin’s gorilla.’
Eddie was watching them with a puzzled frown.
Naylor jabbed a finger at him. ‘Yeah, Eddie. Thanks to you and your fucking inquisitive mate, my cover is probably blown. Nearly two years I’ve been working on Pudovkin, gaining his confidence. I’d only just dangled the bait under his nose.’
‘You mean the security job? That Qatari bloke? Turki what’s-his-face?’
‘Turki bin Qassim. His old man’s one of the biggest money-launderers in the Middle East. Handles more looted Russian cash than anyone else. Putin’s being such a lairy bastard lately, it was our chance to get the drop on Moscow. But that’s all down the fucking toilet now!’
‘Sorry.’
‘Why couldn’t you bloody well do what you were told?’ He caught Kaz’s eye. ‘I’m guessing you’re Karen Phelps.’
She nodded.
Naylor gave a wry smile. ‘I asked Nic about you. She denied all knowledge, trying to protect you. So I guess she qualifies as a good mate.’
‘Yeah. She does.’
He plonked down in a chair and folded his arms. ‘Got more balls than anyone I’ve ever worked with. Hope you lot fucking deserve her.’
78
When Colin McCain finally returned to the conference room it was close to eleven o’clock. Blake had ordered in coffees and pastries, which hadn’t been touched, although Eddie had eyed them briefly.
McCain positioned himself at the head of the table and addressed no one in particular. ‘Well, here’s the situation: Pudovkin won’t take any of our calls.’
Rivlin was fidgeting; he could hardly contain his anxiety. ‘Is he even at home?’
‘Oh yes. Apparently it’s his wife’s birthday. I persuaded the director to try, which is the equivalent of us begging. That’s why it’s taken so long. But he’s old school KGB, a real canny bastard. He knows when he’s got the power. Maybe he had the whole thing sussed all along. So, Craig, we’re pulling you out. As of now you’re on leave. Shave off the beard, hop on a plane somewhere.’
Kaz put her hands on her hips. ‘What about Nicci?’
‘We’re still talking to the FSB, trying some back channels. But I don’t think they’ve got any pull with Pudovkin.’ He sighed. ‘And she may already be dead.’
Rivlin seemed about to explode. ‘I should’ve never listened to you. This is a waste of time.’
McCain shrugged. ‘If you go back to your colleagues in the Met, you may persuade them to go storming into Pudovkin’s mansion. But my guess is they’ll refer it up to the Commissioner first. And where’s the evidence she’s even there? There is none. The Commissioner won’t want to deal with the fallout.’
The cop slammed the table with his fist. ‘Are we so fucking scared of a Russian billionaire?’
‘She’s dead, Rivlin.’
‘You gutless bunch of—’
‘Hang on, mate.’ Naylor was lounging at the table. He picked up his vibrating phone and tapped the screen. ‘Bingo! A text from Jerome. I thought I’d managed to rattle his cage.’
Blake was standing behind him. ‘Read it out!’
‘Package delivered. Basement garage.’
Rivlin beat everyone else to the door, but Kaz was only a step behind him. They ran across the reception area to the lifts. He slapped the call button with his palm. In the moments it took the lift to arrive, Blake and Eddie caught up with them.
They all piled into the lift. The descent to the basement took less than a minute and a half. No one spoke but Kaz was convinced she could hear her own heart thumping.
The lift doors opened onto a low-ceilinged parking garage, raw concrete walls and a taint of exhaust fumes. Most of the bays were full. Around thirty vehicles were positioned in neat double rows, nose to nose or nose to boot, with an access way looping around them.
Blake took charge. ‘Spread out and look!’
Kaz turned to her left and ran along the row of cars, looking in between, under, behind. Reaching the end of the row, she spun round. Then she saw it. Dumped in a corner, a long plastic bundle, the size and shape of a body.
She heard herself scream. ‘Over here!’
As she approached, she could see that the bundle was made up of tightly wound, heavy-duty packing tape. It formed a transparent plastic sarcophagus moulded to follow the contours of a human cadaver. She lurched against the wall for support; it was Nicci’s mummified corpse.
Feeling the bile rise in her gullet, Kaz had to swallow hard to stop herself puking. Then she heard a sound. A low moan. And it was coming from the bundle.
Stumbling forward, she fell to her knees. Two short drinking straws protruded from the tightly wrapped head.
Rivlin came up behind her. She could hear him panting.
Clawing at the tape, Kaz half turned. ‘She’s alive! She’s alive! We need something to cut!’
He seemed frozen, but only for a second. He shouted to Blake and Eddie. ‘A knife – get a fucking knife!’
Eddie Lunt produced a Swiss army knife from his pocket and tossed it to Rivlin, who pulled open the penknife blade. Kneeling beside Kaz, he b
egan to saw away at the thick plastic packing tape that encased the head. As each strand was released she pulled it back to unwind it. They worked quickly and efficiently together.
Nicci was groaning. The plastic was stripped away from her face to reveal a piece of duct tape stuck over each eye. Released from the binding, her parched, cracked lips opened and she gasped for breath.
Kneeling behind her and supporting her, Rivlin eased her into a sitting position as she gulped for air. ‘Slowly, Nic. Deep breaths.’
Kaz carefully peeled back the duct tape over each eye. ‘It’s okay, babes. You’re gonna be okay.’
Nicci gave an involuntary shudder as her eyes flew open. She blinked several times, then stared up blindly in wild, black terror.
Rivlin cradled her. ‘It’s okay, Nic. You’re safe now. You’re safe.’
With a steady hand, Kaz drew the straws from each blood-caked nostril. Nicci yowled in pain, a feral wail that was barely human. Rivlin gently rocked her. ‘It’s okay, it’s okay.’ Tears were streaming down his face.
Blake had his phone in his hand and a look of total shock on his face as he called an ambulance.
Eddie patted his arm. ‘I’m gonna get some water. I’ll be back.’
With Rivlin behind Nicci, holding her in his arms and stroking her hair, Kaz began to cut and hack her way through the plastic coils still imprisoning her torso and legs. Blake crouched beside her, ripping off each strand as Kaz cut through it.
Nicci was only wearing a bra and pants and the bindings had left deep welts in her flesh. Rivlin slipped off his jacket and wrapped it around her.
Returning with a bottle of water, Eddie handed it to Rivlin. Naylor and McCain were right behind him. They stared in disbelief.
Naylor punched his palm with his own fist. ‘That fucking bastard’s laughing at us.’
As Rivlin fed her the water, Nicci spluttered and choked in her desperation to guzzle it down. He stroked her face. ‘Easy. Not too much at once.’
Finally Kaz hacked through the last piece of tape round her feet and Nicci was released from her plastic shroud. Kaz rocked back on her heels; freeing her friend had taken the best part of ten minutes.
With a keening sob, Nicci rolled over onto her side and drew her knees up to her chest in a foetal hug. Then she urinated, warm piss puddling out around her on the rough concrete.
The Killer Page 33