Fightback

by Steve Voake

  Holding the line in both hands, she turned and began abseiling down the wall. After a while Kier felt the weight on the line ease and he was able to stand up and peer over the balcony. Below he could see that Maggot was hanging over the railings like a bag of washing. He watched Saskia swing herself down on to the balcony and then, as she pulled Maggot in after her, the line went slack.

  ‘Throw the line down,’ she called.

  Kier let go of the line and watched it snake down towards her. She wound it around the rail a few times, tied it off and then sat Maggot with his back against the balcony doors. As she patted his cheek and told him to ‘stay there like a good boy’, Kier heard him swear and breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t killed anyone after all.

  And now there were two of them to go after the bad guys.

  Hearing a groan from the hotel room, he went back inside and saw that Ryan was starting to come round again. He moved quickly, binding his hands with the last of the washing line. Then he tore open the rest of the brown-paper package and shook its contents on to the bed. The top two bags contained a fine white powder, but the others contained a substance that was more granular and slightly creamy in colour. He leaned in for a closer look, then turned to Ryan with his eyebrows raised.

  ‘You wouldn’t be trying to rip me off now, would you, Ryan?’

  Ryan swore, leaned his head back against the bed and closed his eyes.

  ‘You two really should learn some nicer words,’ said Kier.

  He took a small foil envelope from his pocket, tore off the corner and removed one of the swabs that Frankie had shown him how to use back in Crete. He rubbed it across the white powder and watched it turn blue, indicating the presence of cocaine.

  He winked at Ryan.

  ‘So far so good.’

  He took another swab and tested the other powder, but this time, as he had suspected, the swab stayed white. He licked his finger, dipped it in the powder and tasted it with the tip of his tongue. Shaking his head, he tutted disapprovingly.

  ‘You know what I think, Ryan? I think you’ve been trying to sell me coffee creamer. Which, at thirty pounds a gram, probably makes it the most expensive coffee creamer in the whole world. Wouldn’t you agree?’

  Ryan shrugged. ‘I don’t know nothing about that.’

  ‘No, of course you don’t. You were just doing your job, weren’t you? Just doing an honest day’s work, eh, Ryan?’

  Kier kept hold of the cocaine and threw the bags of creamer on to the bed. Then he crouched next to Ryan and held up the cocaine.

  ‘You thought you’d sell me a little bit and pocket the thirty grand, didn’t ya, big fella? You thought that way your bosses wouldn’t know there was a big deal going down. They wouldn’t come around demanding their cut of the money. Is that right, Ryan? Is that what happened?’

  ‘Maybe. But now you’ve got it for free, haven’t you? So why don’t you just go have your little rich-kid party and get the hell out of my face?’

  Kier shook his head. ‘You just don’t get it, do you, Ryan? I’m not going to any party.’

  ‘But you said—’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry. There will be a party,’ said Kier. ‘I’m just not going to be able to make it, that’s all.’ He waved the packet of cocaine in front of Ryan’s face. ‘This is pretty good stuff, isn’t it? And I know how you love to share your stuff around. So I’ve decided the party’s going to be right here.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Starts in about ten minutes as a matter of fact. And you and Maggot are going to be the guests of honour.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ asked Ryan. ‘There ain’t gonna be no party.’

  Kier turned to watch Saskia climb over the balcony and untie the line from her belt.

  ‘Ryan doesn’t believe there’s going to be a party,’ he said.

  ‘That’s probably my fault,’ said Saskia, picking up the gun from the floor. ‘I forgot to invite anyone. What kind of hopeless party planner am I?’

  She picked up the phone and tapped in three numbers.

  ‘Police please. And hurry.’

  Kier smiled.

  ‘Yes, hello?’ Saskia’s voice suddenly became breathy and nervous. ‘I’m calling from the Hilton in Park Lane. I’m in room four three six and there are two men here with guns. And I think they’re going to, they’re going to—’

  She aimed the gun at the TV and fired three bullets into it, blowing the screen apart. Then she replaced the phone, winked at Ryan and threw the gun on the bed.

  ‘That ought to do it,’ she said.

  Kier leaned over and stuffed the cocaine into Ryan’s pocket.

  ‘Enjoy your party,’ he said.

  TWENTY-THREE

  McIntyre’s Motors (Cars are our passion) was a five-minute taxi ride from the station and occupied a large site east of Morden Park. The forecourt was lined with a selection of top-of-the-range cars – Porsches, Ferraris and BMWs – all of them waxed, polished and glinting in the afternoon sunshine.

  ‘Can you wait for us?’ asked Kier, handing the taxi driver a twenty-pound note through the hatch.

  The driver took the note, held it up to the light and nodded.

  ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘No problem.’

  ‘Ready?’ asked Saskia, slamming the door shut.

  ‘Yeah, let’s do it,’ said Kier. ‘Let’s buy a car.’

  The salesman was all smiles, smart suit and slicked-back hair.

  ‘Hello, sir, madam,’ he said. ‘Can I help at all?’

  ‘I think you probably can.’

  Kier had detected a slight touch those cars and you’re dead kind of tone in the salesman’s voice and decided to do something about it.

  ‘My girlfriend’s got a birthday coming up in a few weeks and I’m thinking of buying her something a bit special, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘I see, sir.’ The salesman looked at Saskia and raised an eyebrow. ‘Special birthday, is it?’

  Saskia giggled, as if she had temporarily misplaced her brain cells. ‘I’ll be seventeen!’ she said, clinging on to Kier’s arm and gazing up at him adoringly. ‘Isn’t that exciting? I’ll be old enough to drive!’

  ‘Yes, you will,’ said the salesman. ‘Yes, you will.’ He smiled thinly, trying to figure out the best way of framing his next question. ‘And, um, how exactly were you thinking of funding this purchase, sir?’

  Kier beckoned him over, indicating that he had an important secret which he needed to share.

  The man leaned in closer.

  ‘My numbers came up,’ Kier whispered, ‘on the lottery.’

  The salesman’s eyes widened.

  ‘But don’t you have to be eighteen to do the lottery?’

  Kier thought quickly. ‘Went halves with my brother,’ he said. ‘Two point five million each.’

  The salesman whistled.

  ‘Two point five million, eh? Quite a result.’

  ‘Yes indeedy.’ Kier winked at Saskia and flashed her a hundred-kilowatt smile. ‘So then, babes. Anything here that catches your eye?’

  ‘Ooh, I don’t know,’ said Saskia, running her fingers along the bonnet of a Porsche Boxster. ‘They’re all so shiny and pretty.’

  ‘Heh-heh,’ said the salesman, pulling out his handkerchief as the strain of smiling brought beads of sweat to his forehead. ‘Aren’t they though?’

  ‘What’s that one over there?’ asked Saskia. ‘The shiny blue one with the top down.’

  ‘Ah, yes, the BMW convertible,’ said the salesman with a knowing smile. ‘I see the lady has good taste. Please. Follow me.’

  Kier could see that Saskia was enjoying herself. But he could also see her checking out the showroom, looking to see who might be watching.

  ‘Well, here she is,’ said the salesman, pointing at the car. ‘Do you want to sit in her?’

  ‘Ooh, could I?’ squeaked Saskia, all wide-eyed excitement.

  ‘Sure thing, little lady. Just one moment and I’ll fetch the keys.’

  �
�I take it he’s not our man,’ whispered Saskia when the salesman had disappeared off into the showroom.

  Kier shook his head. ‘No, McIntyre’s got to be the owner. Probably inside counting his money. But don’t worry, we’ll smoke him out.’

  He looked up to see the salesman heading back in their direction.

  ‘Listen, when he gets back, just sit in the car and act dopey while I see what I can find out, OK?’

  ‘OK.’ Saskia prepared another simpering smile and aimed it at the salesman. ‘This is so exciting,’ she gasped as he approached. ‘I haven’t had this much fun in ages.’

  Kier smiled at the salesman.

  ‘She doesn’t get out much. Too busy counting your diamonds, aren’t you, babe?’

  ‘Oh, you,’ said Saskia. ‘He’s such a tease, isn’t he?’

  ‘Heh-heh,’ said the salesman. ‘Heh-heh-heh.’

  ‘Could I have a quiet word?’ asked Kier, putting his hand on the man’s elbow and steering him away from the car.

  ‘Of course,’ said the salesman, relieved at not having to laugh any more. ‘How can I help?’

  ‘You seem like a man of the world,’ said Kier, ‘and the thing is, I really want my girlfriend’s birthday to be a bit special.’

  The salesman nodded enthusiastically. ‘A special day for a special lady, eh?’

  ‘Quite,’ said Kier. ‘The thing is, I’m looking for something to make her party go with a bit of a swing.’

  ‘A swing?’ The salesman frowned. ‘I’m afraid I’m not quite with you, sir.’

  ‘I need some of the right stuff,’ said Kier, raising his eyebrows, ‘or perhaps I should say … the white stuff.’

  Instantly the salesman’s face changed. Kier could tell from the glint in his eye that he knew exactly what Kier was talking about. But he wanted to make sure.

  ‘The white stuff?’

  ‘Yeah. You know. Coke. Charlie. Any idea where I could get some?’

  The salesman nodded, suddenly serious.

  ‘I might. How much are you looking for?’

  Kier decided to go for it. ‘It’s a pretty big party. How about a kilo?’

  ‘A kilo? You’re joking, right?’

  Kier shook his head and patted his pockets. ‘Not with this kind of money. The way I look at it, we’re all going to crash and burn some day. Might as well live life in the fast lane while we can.’

  The salesman grinned. ‘I hear you,’ he said, and Kier could practically see the pound signs lighting up in his eyes. ‘Just give me a minute, will you? I need to go and have a word with somebody.’

  ‘No problem,’ said Kier.

  A wave of nausea swept over him as he suddenly realised how close he was to seeing the man who had killed his father. But he reminded himself to stay calm. McIntyre was almost certainly sitting on a big pile of the stuff and finding it would be the perfect way to get back at him. All they had to do was locate the stash, then they could put him away for a very long time.

  He walked back to where Saskia was sitting in the BMW, making Brrm-brrm noises.

  ‘It’s all right,’ he said, ‘you can knock it off now. He’s gone inside to have a word.’

  Saskia raised an eyebrow.

  ‘About getting the stuff?’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘Look. Over there. Do you think that’s him?’

  Kier turned to see a gold Bentley Continental driving slowly across the car park, its six-litre engine purring like a blender full of cream.

  ‘Damn, it’s got to be,’ said Kier, angry to have missed it. ‘Only the boss would drive a car like that.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m on to it,’ said Saskia jumping out of the car. ‘You stay and talk party planning so they don’t get suspicious. Soon as I find out where he lives, I’ll call you.’

  By the time the salesman came scuttling out of the showroom, Saskia was already climbing into the waiting taxi.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ he asked, watching the taxi drive away.

  ‘Everything’s fine,’ said Kier. ‘She just remembered a hair appointment, that’s all. Maybe I should buy her a diary too.’

  ‘Is she still interested in the car?’ asked the salesman, trying not to sound too desperate.

  ‘Oh yeah, she’s made her mind up about that,’ said Kier. ‘Says it goes with her eyes. Can you believe it?’

  The salesman looked relieved. ‘So, erm, do you want to put down a deposit?’

  ‘Sure, I’d like to. But to be honest, I didn’t think she’d make her mind up that quickly. So I’m going to need to take a trip to the bank. What kind of deposit are you looking for?’

  ‘Say ten per cent?’

  ‘Four grand. OK, that’s no problem. And what about, you know … our other conversation?’

  The salesman glanced around as if he was worried someone might be listening.

  ‘I think we can do you a deal there. Is it still a kilo you’re after?’

  ‘Yeah, if the price is right.’

  ‘Tell you what. How about we put the car and candy together in one package and call it seventy-five?’

  ‘I was thinking more like sixty-five.’

  The salesman sucked air through his teeth and shook his head. ‘Can’t be done, I’m afraid. But maybe we could meet somewhere in the middle.’

  ‘Seventy?’

  ‘Seventy would do it.’

  Kier nodded and stuck out his hand.

  ‘You’ve got yourself a deal.’

  As the salesman shook his hand, Kier saw the look in his eyes and realised money was a kind of drug too, pulling you in if you let it.

  ‘I can have it here by tonight,’ said the salesman. ‘Do you think you’ll be in a position to proceed by then?’

  Kier nodded. ‘You can count on it,’ he said.

  *

  As Kier walked across the forecourt, the phone buzzed in his pocket. When he took it out he saw that it was Saskia’s number and that there was a message.

  The message said: Help.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Kier immediately hit speed-dial but there was no answer. After the third attempt he gave up and called directory enquiries.

  ‘I need the address of M-Taxis,’ he told the operator. ‘Somewhere in south London, I guess. But can you hurry?’

  The cab company turned out to be in a side street close to the station. It was a distance of two miles and Kier ran it in under fifteen minutes.

  ‘Hi,’ he said, still out of breath as he entered the office. ‘I’m looking for a girl.’

  ‘Aren’t we all?’ said the stubble-faced man behind the counter.

  He looked at his bald, bullet-headed friend and they both laughed unpleasantly.

  ‘You don’t understand,’ said Kier, leaning on the counter. ‘She caught one of your cabs about twenty minutes ago. I need to find out where she was dropped.’

  ‘Maybe you should try saying please,’ said Bullet.

  Kier wanted to try throwing him through the window, but he held up his hand and said, ‘OK, please. It’s really important.’

  ‘What time did you say she caught the cab?’

  ‘About half an hour ago. It was the same one we caught from the station.’

  Stubble Face nodded.

  ‘All right, wait a minute.’

  He tapped the computer keyboard and then put his radio headset back on.

  ‘Hi, Andy,’ he said. ‘Where are you now?’

  Kier couldn’t hear the response, but something about the way Stubble Face looked at him told him it wasn’t the reply he had been expecting.

  ‘OK. And the boy was in the car when you picked them up?’

  Kier saw him studying his clothes and his face. He wished he could hear what the other guy was saying.

  ‘Yeah, that’s the one. OK, no problem. Leave it to me.’

  Stubble Face took off his headset and smiled.

  ‘He says he dropped her off in Richmond. Said she didn’t seem to know where she was going.’r />
  Kier began to wonder if perhaps the Help message had been a jokey thing – her way of telling him she’d got herself lost.

  ‘If you come round here I can show you where he dropped her.’

  Kier opened the hatch and stood next to Stubble Face, peering over his shoulder at the map.

  ‘See?’ said Stubble Face, stabbing an oily finger into the Richmond area. ‘Just there.’

  But as Kier leaned forward for a better look there was a sudden, vicious pain in the back of his head and then the world went black.

  *

  ‘I think he’s coming round,’ said a voice. ‘Throw some water on him or something.’

  Kier saw bright, painful lights and felt as though he was falling. Then someone threw cold water in his face and he opened his eyes to see the blurred features of Stubble Face and Bullet swim into view. He was in some kind of storeroom. Paint was flaking off the walls and a single electric bulb burned above his head.

  Kier squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again. He was sitting on a hard wooden chair with his hands tied behind his back.

  ‘Where’s Saskia?’ he asked.

  ‘Never mind about her,’ said Stubble Face. ‘It’s you we want to hear about.’

  ‘Is this how you treat all your customers?’ said Kier, still trying to focus. ‘If so, I can’t see many of them coming back.’

  ‘That’s funny,’ said Stubble Face. He looked at Bullet. ‘The kid’s a comedian.’

  ‘Oh yeah.’ Bullet nodded but didn’t smile. ‘He’s a laugh a minute.’

  Kier saw he was holding a Micro-Uzi machine pistol, a gun capable of delivering twenty rounds in under a second. Which was definitely not good news.

  ‘What do you want to know about me for? I just came looking for my friend.’

  Stubble Face stepped closer.

  ‘Oh, we know what you were looking for. But the question is, who sent you?’

  Kier did his best to ignore the pain jumping around in the back of his skull, but it wasn’t easy.

  ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

  ‘No? Well, maybe I can jog your memory. You see, your little girlfriend made the mistake of asking the driver to follow the car in front.’

  ‘So?’