Dead Men ss-5

by Stephen Leather

  She stopped coughing and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘You mean the Heimlich manoeuvre. That’s for choking.’

  ‘No, it’s the Hindenburg,’ said Shepherd. ‘I fill you full of hydrogen and set fire to you. Guaranteed to stop coughing fits.’

  She started to laugh again. Shepherd put an arm round her and kissed her cheek. He couldn’t believe she was a serial killer. The Elaine Carter he knew simply wasn’t capable of murder.

  As they drove off the M1 and into central London, Shepherd asked Elaine if she wanted him to drop her at her sister’s. ‘What hotel are you staying at?’ she asked.

  ‘The Ibis in Earls Court. Opposite the exhibition centre.’

  Elaine’s surprise was written on her face. ‘Why did you book in there?’

  ‘Thought it would be easy for you, and they’ve got car parking.’

  ‘You didn’t have an ulterior motive, did you?’

  Shepherd chuckled. ‘Such as?’

  ‘Such as hoping to persuade me to stay over. I did say I was going to stay with my sister.’

  ‘Elaine, you have so little faith in me.’

  ‘Double bed?’

  ‘King size,’ said Shepherd. ‘I move around a lot when I sleep.’

  She slid her hand along his thigh. ‘I know,’ she said, and grinned. ‘Okay, let’s go to the hotel first.’

  It had started to rain by the time they reached Earls Court. They parked the Audi and checked in, then went up to the room. She kissed him as soon as he’d closed the door, a long, slow kiss as she pressed herself against him. Eventually she broke away. ‘I need a shower,’ she said. ‘Don’t start without me.’

  Her bag was by the door and her briefcase was on the bed but she’d left the bathroom door open and the walls were mirrored so he couldn’t risk going through her things. ‘Hey, I’m out of cigarettes,’ he called. ‘I’ll just pop down and get some.’

  ‘Don’t be long,’ she said. ‘I’m hungry.’

  As soon as he got down to Reception, Shepherd called Button on his mobile. ‘I’ve checked in,’ he said. ‘We’ll have dinner together and she’s going to the conference tomorrow. I’ll probably go with her.’

  ‘My spies tell me you’re sharing a room,’ said Button.

  ‘Are you checking up on me, Charlie?’ said Shepherd, coldly.

  ‘The surveillance team outside her sister’s house said she hasn’t been there, that’s all,’ said Button. ‘Is there anything you need to tell me?’

  ‘She’s left some of her things in my room. We’re at the Ibis, right opposite the exhibition centre. I thought it was the best way to keep an eye on her.’

  ‘Well, I look forward to seeing your expense claim,’ said Button.

  ‘What about Kinsella? How long will he be in London?’

  ‘Two more nights, then he’s off to the States. Once he’s left the UK, he’s no longer our responsibility.’

  ‘What do I do then?’ asked Shepherd. ‘Does the investigation continue?’

  ‘We’re tasked with identifying the killer,’ said Button. ‘We stay on the job until that’s resolved.’

  Maplethorpe took the lift to the fifteenth floor. Kinsella’s suite was to the left, half-way down the corridor. The man in the door was in his early forties, stocky in a blue pinstripe suit that was too baggy in the trousers. He was Russ Williamson, a detective sergeant in the PSNI. Maplethorpe had known him for eighteen years, and for more than half that time they’d served in the RUC’s Special Branch.

  ‘Looks like you’re putting on weight, Russ,’ said Maplethorpe, as he strode down the corridor. ‘Too much hotel food, I suppose.’

  ‘John, what the hell are you doing in London?’

  ‘Just checking everything’s okay,’ he said. ‘The top brass are scared shitless that something might happen to Kinsella. He’s heading back to the States, I gather.’

  ‘I’ll be glad when he’s gone,’ said Williamson. ‘He’s a right pain in the arse.’

  ‘Who are you with?’ asked Maplethorpe.

  ‘Owen Crompton. He’s one of the new intake, a Catholic, but he’s a solid guy.’ He indicated the room next door. ‘He’s in there.’

  ‘How’s he feel about Kinsella?’

  ‘No love lost there,’ said Williamson. ‘Reckons Kinsella’s just a scrote who got lucky.’

  Maplethorpe grinned. ‘His head’s obviously screwed on right. Is the wife with him?’

  ‘They’re in for the afternoon,’ said Williamson. ‘Out this evening for dinner and a show with friends.’

  ‘You both go out with them?’ asked Maplethorpe.

  ‘The two of us and a driver, Paul Cadman.’

  Maplethorpe knew Cadman. He was a detective sergeant, a twenty-five-year veteran. ‘You must be pulling in some overtime,’ he said.

  ‘Paying for my place in Bulgaria,’ said Williamson. ‘Three bedrooms, pool, it’s going to be my retirement place. What about you? I heard you were quitting.’

  ‘I’ll never leave Belfast,’ said Maplethorpe. ‘What time are you off? I’ll take you for a drink.’

  ‘I’m on the clock until midnight,’ said Williamson. ‘We can hit the hotel bar.’

  Maplethorpe grinned. ‘It’s a date,’ he said.

  Shepherd and Elaine had breakfast in the hotel restaurant, then walked over to the exhibition centre. ‘Are you sure you want to come in?’ she asked.

  ‘My first meeting isn’t until this afternoon,’ he said, ‘and I might find something interesting to do with my money.’

  ‘Well, no impulse buying,’ she said. ‘Run anything past me first. There’ll be a lot of sharks about.’

  The giant hall was filled with booths offering the wares of banks, building societies, insurance companies and investment firms. They were staffed by earnest young men and women in suits, half of whom seemed to have Bluetooth headsets glued to their ears. Shepherd walked with Elaine from booth to booth. Hundreds of visitors were milling around, inspecting the displays and collecting glossy brochures.

  At eleven they had coffee, then watched a presentation by two blonde girls with pneumatic breasts promoting a property fund that was investing in shopping malls in the former Communist bloc, and another by two slick men in black Armani suits with Russian accents who were pitching shares in an oil-exploration company.

  Afterwards they went out for a cigarette, then wandered round the booths again. Elaine said she needed to wash her hands and redo her makeup. Shepherd went off for another coffee, then sat and read the Daily Mail. By the time he’d finished his coffee she hadn’t returned. He realised it had been almost thirty minutes since he’d seen her. He went down to the cloakroom area but she wasn’t there, then walked the length of the exhibition hall. There was no sign of her. He called her but her mobile went straight to answering-machine. He put his phone back into his pocket, went up to the mezzanine floor and scanned the exhibition below.

  He left the hall and went to the hotel on the off-chance that Elaine had gone back to the room. She hadn’t. He phoned Button. ‘I’ve lost her,’ he said.

  ‘How long?’

  ‘I last saw her an hour ago. I spent half an hour looking for her in the exhibition centre, and she’s not in the hotel room. Her mobile phone’s off.’

  ‘You checked for a weapon, right?’

  ‘As best I could.’

  Button clicked her tongue. ‘What do you think, Spider?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Maybe she met a client and went off for a meeting.’

  ‘Without telling you?’

  ‘We’re not joined at the hip.’

  ‘Is it possible she’s going after Kinsella?’

  ‘Charlie, I don’t know. My gut feeling is that it’s not her.’

  ‘I’m not sure we can risk everything on a gut feeling,’ she said. ‘Okay, meet me at Kinsella’s hotel. In Reception. Soon as you can.’

  Shepherd ended the call and hurried to the car park for his Audi.

  The lift door open
ed and Russ Williamson moved his hand closer to the gun in a nylon holster under his left armpit. He relaxed when he saw John Maplethorpe. ‘You can’t stay away, can you?’ he said.

  ‘How’s your head?’ asked Maplethorpe. The two men had spent three hours drinking the previous night, ending up in an after-hours club in Soho.

  ‘Throbbing,’ said Williamson. ‘I could do with a hair of the dog but the wife has a thing about alcohol.’

  ‘Thought I’d see if you wanted a cigarette break,’ said Maplethorpe. ‘I’m supposed to have a chat with Kinsella before he departs these shores so we can kill two birds with one stone.’

  ‘You sure? I could do with a coffee as well.’

  ‘Take half an hour. I’ll have my debrief and wait until you get back. You said the wife was going out shopping, right?’

  ‘Yeah, she’s at Harrods with Paul.’ He pointed to the door down the corridor. ‘Owen’s in there. I’ll let him know I’m taking a break.’

  Maplethorpe patted his shoulder. ‘I’ll tell him,’ he said.

  ‘You’re a star, John, thanks.’

  ‘You’d do the same for me,’ said Maplethorpe.

  Williamson went to the lift. When it arrived he waved at Maplethorpe, who waved back as the doors closed. Then Maplethorpe undid his jacket. A Smith amp; Wesson .357 Magnum stuck out of his belt.

  Shepherd parked his Audi at a meter down the road from the hotel and phoned Button as he hurried along the pavement. ‘On my way,’ he said.

  ‘I’m here already,’ she said. A uniformed doorman saluted Shepherd as he went in. Button was in the lobby. ‘They’re on the fifteenth floor,’ she said. They got into the lift and she pressed the button.

  ‘We might be worrying about nothing,’ said Shepherd.

  ‘I agree,’ said Button, ‘but I’ll feel happier if we check for ourselves.’ She jabbed at the button to close the doors. ‘Come on, come on,’ she muttered.

  Maplethorpe knocked at the door to Kinsella’s suite. After a few seconds it opened on the safety chain. Maplethorpe flashed his PSNI identification. ‘John Maplethorpe, Intelligence Branch.’

  Kinsella squinted at the ID card. ‘Where’s Russ?’

  ‘Family problems in Belfast. His wife.’

  ‘How long will he be gone?’

  ‘I’m to fill in until you leave for the States,’ said Maplethorpe. ‘Can I come in and do a visual check, please?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s procedure when there’s a personnel change,’ said Maplethorpe, putting away his ID.

  ‘Now?’

  ‘It’s supposed to be done as soon as I come on duty,’ said Maplethorpe.

  Kinsella grunted, took off the chain and opened the door. He was wearing a dark blue denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and faded blue jeans. He hadn’t shaved and his hair was tousled as if he’d only just got out of bed.

  Maplethorpe walked into the suite. ‘Nice room,’ he said. There were two beige sofas, a desk and a large plasma television on one wall. A half-eaten plate of sandwiches and a pot of tea stood on a coffee-table in front of the television.

  ‘You should try living here,’ said Kinsella.

  Maplethorpe pointed at the door that led to the room on the left. ‘Is that where Owen is?’

  ‘Yeah. I think he listens in when I’m having sex with my wife,’ said Kinsella.

  ‘I’ll have a word with him about that,’ said Maplethorpe.

  ‘Don’t bother, it’s quite a turn-on knowing that I’m having sex and he isn’t,’ said Kinsella. He sat on the sofa and put his feet on the coffee-table. ‘Do you want tea? I’ll get them to send up an extra cup.’

  ‘I’m fine, thanks,’ said Maplethorpe. He went to the connecting door and opened it. A man in a grey suit was sitting on the bed, pointing a remote control at the television. He stood up awkwardly and reached for the gun in his underarm holster.

  ‘Whoa, lad, I’m on the job,’ said Maplethorpe, holding up a hand. ‘Detective Superintendent Maplethorpe. John to my friends. Didn’t Russ mention I’d be dropping by?’

  ‘No, he didn’t,’ said Owen Crompton, visibly relaxing. ‘He was out on the town with you last night, wasn’t he?’

  ‘Just a few drinks,’ said Maplethorpe. ‘I said I’d swing by and review the security arrangements.’ He closed the door behind him.

  ‘It’s a babysitting job,’ said Crompton. ‘He’s off soon, anyway.’

  ‘Got to be done right, though, Owen,’ said Maplethorpe. He nodded at the window. ‘I saw a car down there this morning. Didn’t look right.’

  Crompton went to look outside. ‘Is it still there?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Maplethorpe, as he took his gun from his belt and held it by the barrel. ‘Grey Toyota.’ Crompton craned his neck to look down at the road below. Maplethorpe slammed the butt of the revolver against Crompton’s temple, then caught him under the arms as he slumped to the ground. ‘Sorry, lad,’ he whispered.

  He lowered Crompton to the carpeted floor, then laid down his gun, took a roll of insulation tape from his jacket pocket and used it to bind the man’s hands and feet. He picked up his weapon then strode across the room to the adjoining door. He pulled it open and stepped into Kinsella’s suite.

  The doors to the lift rattled open and a robotic female voice informed Shepherd and Button that they had arrived at the fifteenth floor. Button looked at the signs indicating where the rooms were and pointed left. ‘This way.’ She rushed down the corridor and Shepherd hurried after her. His phone rang and he pulled it from his pocket. It was Elaine Carter. He rejected the call and put the phone away.

  There was a chambermaid’s trolley at the far end of the corridor but other than that it was deserted. ‘There should be a man on guard here,’ said Button. ‘Something’s wrong.’

  ‘Turn around,’ said Maplethorpe, pointing his gun at Kinsella’s face. ‘Turn around or I’ll shoot you in the face.’

  Kinsella was trembling and breathing heavily. ‘You’re a cop- what are you doing?’ he said.

  ‘I’m a cop and you killed a cop,’ said Maplethorpe. ‘Now turn around.’

  ‘You can’t do this,’ said Kinsella.

  Maplethorpe stepped forward and whipped the barrel across Kinsella’s face. He yelped and blood spurted from his nose. ‘Turn around,’ said Maplethorpe.

  At a knock on the door both men jumped.

  Maplethorpe raised the gun. ‘Turn around or I’ll shoot you in the face,’ he said.

  Button knocked on the door again. ‘Could they have gone out?’ asked Shepherd. The chambermaid came out of a room down the corridor, loaded with dirty towels.

  Button shook her head. ‘I checked with Reception. The wife went out but Kinsella ordered room service half an hour ago.’

  Shepherd banged on the door.

  The chambermaid was West Indian with a gold tooth that glinted as she spoke. She waddled over to them. ‘He’s in there,’ she said. ‘Maybe he’s in the shower.’

  Button showed the woman her SOCA identification. ‘Can you open the door for us?’ she said.

  The chambermaid had a master keycard on a chain attached to her belt. ‘Sure I can,’ she said.

  ‘Charlie, maybe we should wait for back-up,’ said Shepherd.

  ‘We don’t have time,’ said Button.

  ‘If someone’s in there with a gun, we’re going to be in a lot of trouble,’ said Shepherd.

  ‘A gun?’ said the chambermaid, covering her mouth with a ring-covered hand.

  ‘It’s okay,’ said Shepherd. He held out his hand. ‘Give me the keycard, please.’

  She landed it over. ‘Now,please leave the floor,’said Button. The chambermaid didn’t need to be asked twice. She set off as fast as she could to the lift.

  ‘There should be security in the next room,’ said Button.

  Shepherd went to the door of the adjoining room, knocked, then slid the keycard into the slot on the door. The green light winked on. He twist
ed the handle and stepped inside. A man in a grey suit was lying on the floor, his hands and feet bound with blue tape. ‘Charlie, come on,’ he said.

  ‘Please don’t shoot me,’ cried Kinsella. ‘I’ve got a wife. She’s pregnant. I’m going to be a father.’ Tears were running down his cheeks.

  ‘You killed Robbie Carter and he was a father,’ said Maplethorpe. ‘You shot him in the legs and you shot him in the head. Now it’s your turn.’

  ‘You can’t do this,’ said Kinsella.

  ‘Turn around, Noel. Be a man.’

  ‘You killed Gerry Lynn?’

  ‘And McFee, and Dunne, and McEvoy.’

  The door to the adjoining room crashed open.

  Shepherd aimed Crompton’s gun at Maplethorpe. It was a Glock so there was no safety to worry about. ‘Drop the gun, John,’ he said.

  Maplethorpe sneered at Shepherd, and kept his revolver aimed at Kinsella’s face. ‘I knew something wasn’t right about you, Jamie,’ he said. ‘What are you? Special Branch? MI5?’

  ‘I’m the guy who’s pointing a gun at you, John. That’s the only thing you should be worried about.’

  ‘Do I look worried?’said Maplethorpe. ‘Who’s the woman?’

  ‘Armed police are on their way,’ said Button.

  ‘So?’ said Maplethorpe. He took aim at Kinsella’s left leg. ‘You can watch as I take care of this little scrote.’

  ‘Shoot him!’ shouted Kinsella. ‘He’s crazy – shoot him, for God’s sake!’

  ‘John, put down the gun.’

  ‘Don’t talk to him, just shoot him!’ shouted Kinsella.

  ‘Maybe he wants you dead as much as I do,’ said Maplethorpe. ‘He’s a good friend of Robbie Carter’s widow. Maybe he wants me to kill you.’

  ‘John, enough,’ said Shepherd.

  ‘Am I right, Jamie? Don’t you think that this little scrote deserves to die?’

  Shepherd said nothing.

  ‘You’re a detective superintendent with almost thirty years’ service. You know that what you’re doing is wrong,’ said Button.

  ‘Legally, but not morally,’ said Maplethorpe. ‘He killed Robbie Carter and didn’t serve a day for it. How can that be right? He murdered a good man but the Government pats him on the head and lets him go. Now he’s going to get what’s coming to him, what he gave to Robbie.’