Two Faced

by A. R. Ashworth

  No way to know. No point dithering. Actions alone count. If her bad feeling was wrong, she’d never get another chance to salvage her career. If the feeling was right, she might be saving lives.

  Her mobile warbled, and she pressed the button on her hands-free. “I’m on my way, Liz. The other copper deserted Bull. He’s alone. Jenkins is armed and will be in the house in minutes.

  “Okay, guv. Still on the A40. Maybe fifteen minutes away. Should I call for backup?”

  “It’s done. I couldn’t get hold of Hughes, so Cranwell’s ordering it.”

  Ten minutes later, she switched off her blues and turned into a narrow close that contained the safe house. Cars parked on both sides left only a single lane open. She backed into a spot at the end. A siren wailed in the distance. Cranwell’s backup would likely come from the Ealing nick, two miles east on Uxbridge Road. She waited, listening, but the sound slowly receded to the west, away from her.

  Inside the house, she gathered Bull, Jenkins, and Fiona together. “We have two objectives,” Elaine said. “Protect Fiona, and arrest anyone who tries to harm her. Backup’s coming, but it’s best to get her away from the house. We have maybe four minutes.”

  Jenkins asked, “Hughes ordered backup?”

  “Couldn’t reach him. Cranwell.”

  Jenkins laughed. Before Elaine could ask him what was funny, Bull’s mobile chattered.

  “It’s Jones.” Bull held up a finger. “What? Are you coming back? When? Who?” He pocketed his phone. “He says he’s delayed. Two other officers are on their way. Be here in a few minutes.” He shook his head. “He’s not a copper. Should have asked to see his warrant card when we first got here.”

  Jenkins spoke. “Elaine, get Fiona to your car, and get away. We’ll be just behind the hedges on the side of the house. I’ll cover the front, Bull can take the back.”

  Elaine and Fiona ran to the BMW. When they got to the car, Elaine turned in time to see Bull and Jenkins slither through a gap in the hedge. The house was dark except for a light in an upstairs bedroom and one at the front door.

  Elaine had just sat behind the wheel when headlights appeared at the end of the street. “Damn. Get down.” Both women slid down. Elaine fished in her pocket for her asp, finally freeing it. The approaching headlights glared in the windscreen. The sound of an engine grew closer, until it was no more than a few feet away. Car doors shut, male voices murmured. The front garden gate squeaked.

  Elaine lifted her head just high enough to peer out. The Peugeot, its headlights now off, sat half on the pavement, driver’s door open, engine idling, blocking the narrow street. Two dark figures approached the house. One stood to the side of the front door, his hands down in the low ready position, holding a handgun. The other man slipped into the shadows, moving towards the back of the house. In a few seconds, the first figure tried the front door and slipped inside.

  “Psst. Boss.” A whisper, then Liz’s face at the car window. Elaine opened the window.

  Liz pointed at the Peugeot. “You’re blocked in, guv. What do you want me to do?”

  “You and Fiona hide in the cemetery and stay there. Backup’s on the way. I’ll deal with the car.”

  Elaine slipped out of the BMW, crept to the Peugeot, and switched it off. After pocketing the key, she flicked open her asp and moved into the shadow of the garden wall, crouching on the pavement next to the front gate. A glance over the wall revealed the intruders had turned on more lights. By now, they must know the house was empty.

  Elaine took a deep breath and focused on the weapon in her hand. Its black metal rods were telescoped out to the full two-foot length, ending in a steel button about the size of a pound coin. She wiped her palms on her jeans and tightened both hands on the knurled grip. The shaft weighed heavy, solid in her hands. Used to its limits, an asp could crack bone. Used without restraint, it could kill.

  The front door opened, and yellow light streamed through the slats in the gate, splaying bars of light and shadow over the pavement just in front of her. A male voice spoke, low, excited. Footsteps clicked on the garden walk, moving in her direction. Elaine took another breath and adjusted the position of her feet, twisting her body, extending her arms. She would have one chance with her asp, and then she had to hope that Jenkins and Bull were quick. She would not hold back.

  “Armed police!” Jenkins shouted. “Put down your weapons and lie on the ground! Now!”

  An exclamation, then three gunshots. Another yell. The gate flew open, dark trousers moved across Elaine’s vision. She swung the asp as hard as she could against the man’s kneecap, untwisting her body with the effort. A crunch as bone splintered, a scream as the man toppled, face down.

  Elaine leapt on his back, yelling at him to stay down. He still held the gun and twisted, raised his arm towards her. She swung again, and he grunted and went limp. The gun skittered into the shadow under the Peugeot. Sirens wailed in the distance.

  Grunts and yells behind her. Elaine turned to see Bull and a large man grappling by the door of the house. She ran towards them, asp high. Bull lost his footing and slipped to his knees. The man raised his pistol. Elaine swung with all her might, striking the man’s wrist, knocking the gun from his grip. She recovered and struck again, this time catching him in the face. Blood erupted from his mouth. He collapsed, moaning, as Bull scrambled to his feet. The sirens were closer now.

  “Thanks, guv.” Bull pulled out his handcuffs and snapped them around the second man’s wrists. “You’d best cuff the one over there. He might get up.” They walked to the garden gate and looked down. The man lay moaning, his leg twisted under him at an unnatural angle. Bull shook his head. “And then again, he might not. Give me your cuffs—I’ll do it.”

  Blue lights flashed in the street. Sirens stopped. Elaine looked around. “Where’s Jenkins? Jenkins!”

  FORTY-TWO

  Saturday night, Hanwell

  She ran to the hedge and slipped through the gap. Jenkins lay against the grassy bank, holding his thigh. “I think it clipped an artery.” His voice sounded soft, tired.

  Elaine shouted, “Code Zero! Officer down. Over here!” She laid her hands over his leg and pressed. Blood seeped between her fingers. “Hurry!” Rustling sounds in the hedge behind her. A calm voice at her side. Hands on hers.

  “We’ll take it now, ma’am. We’ve got him.”

  She rose slowly to her feet. Fiona. Liz. She turned back through the hedge, towards the blue lights. The two women stood near an ambulance with Bull.

  “Elaine, Are you all right?” Fiona looked horrified. “The blood…”

  Elaine nodded. “It looks like Jenkins took a bullet. Bleeding pretty bad. Medics are with him. Who’s in charge here?”

  A short, swarthy officer in uniform walked up to them. “Inspector Bell, Ealing tactical response. You must be DCI Hope. Are you hurt?”

  Someone handed Elaine a towel to wipe her hands. “I’m fine. Not my blood. There’s a gun by the door and another under the Peugeot. And one with the wounded officer behind the hedge. He’s not police. I think he’s MI5, or something like that. Please see to him. If you have any questions, DC Bull and DC Barker can fill you in.”

  Elaine took a deep breath and pointed to Fiona. “This woman is in witness protection, and I need to get her to safety. The two men in handcuffs came here to kill her. If a DI named Novak contacts you or shows up and tries to take over, don’t listen to him, don’t let him. It’s your crime scene, Bell. Tell him to ring DCS Cranwell. I’ll brief Cranwell on what’s happened. Got that?”

  “Yes, ma’am. DI Novak to ring DCS Cranwell.”

  She fished in her pocket for a business card and the Peugeot key. “My number’s on there. Can you please ask one of your officers to move that car out of the way? I need to get her out of sight.”

  Elaine kept her blues on until they were out of the neighbourhood. A half mile away she pulled into a dark parking lot next to a derelict store. “Are you okay?” she asked Fiona. />
  “Yeah.” Fiona took a deep breath and exhaled. “Do you think Jenkins will make it?”

  Elaine shook her head. “Dunno. The medics got there quickly. I think so.”

  “Good. I think so too. What do we do now? Are you going to call Jonny? I don’t trust him, Elaine.”

  “Alec Cranwell told me Jonny was just relieved of command. Cranwell’s in charge now. He told me not to call Jonny. And if he calls me, I don’t have to tell him everything. Or anything.”

  “Alec’s taken over from Jonny? Is it always this crazy? Who to trust?” Fiona stared out the windscreen.

  “Right.” Elaine faced Fiona. “Something’s bothering me, and I need an answer. You gave your testimony. I read it and thought ‘Flying colours. Well done, that woman.’ So that’s over, but why do they still fear you so much they would do this?”

  “I saw the killer’s face.”

  “I thought you said he had on a balaclava. You couldn’t recognize him.”

  “Not then, later. When they tried to kidnap me. His voice. The French accent. He’s the guy who jumped out of the van.”

  Of course. “You haven’t seen him since.”

  Fiona shook her head. “Those two men tonight are too big. Where are we going?”

  Elaine looked at her burner. “We’ll talk about that in a minute.” She pressed the number for Cranwell. “Sir, It’s Hope. The situation is under control at the safe house. Fiona’s safe, with me.”

  “I spoke with Inspector Bell. We need to talk, Elaine. I can’t arrest anyone yet. I need more rope to tie it together. So continue to protect Mrs. Hughes. Do you know where you’re taking her?”

  Careful, Lainie. “Not yet, sir. Have you heard how Jenkins is?”

  “He’s on the way to hospital. Lost a lot of blood. Haven’t heard beyond that. We’ve called his wife.”

  Called his wife. “Sir, you knew about Jenkins, what he was doing, didn’t you?”

  “I can’t comment, Elaine.”

  “Operation Spectra. It’s rogue, isn’t it?” she asked. Cranwell didn’t answer, so she continued. “I know about you and Commander Hughes, sir. Knowing that makes our conversation difficult. Do you understand?”

  “I do. Two things and I have to go. Call Hughes and tell him about his wife. Summarize the situation, answer his questions. Don’t mention me. As far as he knows, he’s still in charge. And find a place to hide from Novak. The two of you aren’t out of danger yet. I need some time. Don’t tell anyone where you’re going—just call me when you’re safe. Like I said, we need to talk.” The line went dead.

  “What? What’s wrong?” Fiona’s voice sounded anxious.

  “Nothing wrong, just odd. He wants me to ring Jonny to tell him you’re safe.”

  “Whatever. I don’t mind if Jonny knows I’m safe. But I won’t talk to him, and I don’t want him to know where I am.”

  Hughes picked up immediately. “I just heard. Is my wife all right? Can I speak with her?”

  Who told him? Damn. “She’s safe, not injured. She doesn’t want to talk to you right now, sir.”

  “Let me speak with her, Hope.”

  “Sir, I can’t force her to talk to you. She’s safe.”

  “For the last time, DCI Hope, I want to speak with my wife.”

  Fuck you, Jonny one-note. What about Novak? “And for the last time, sir, she said no and I can’t force her. Novak sent the hit men to the safe house. Barker followed them to Hanwell. You need to arrest him, sir.”

  “Don’t lecture me.” Hughes was silent for several seconds. “Keep this to yourself. We don’t need it bandied about until we have him in custody. Do you think that means Novak’s behind the Kensington murder?”

  “Dunno if he’s behind it, but he may be involved. I might suggest an all-ports, circulate his photo.”

  “For the last time, don’t tell me what to do, Hope. I know what I need to do. Right now, Novak’s on his way to Kensington nick. Where are you taking my wife?”

  Always “my wife,” never “Fiona.” “She and I are going to discuss it. Somewhere safe.”

  “Waleham House would be good.”

  “Might be too obvious. We’ll think of something. Good night, sir. We’ll call once we’re settled in.”

  She rang off, and snicked the car into gear. The car. “Christ! We need to ditch this car. He’ll run the number plate on ANPR.”

  “There’s my Range Rover, if it’s not clamped.”

  “Excellent. To the pub, then. Didn’t you leave it there?”

  FORTY-THREE

  Saturday night, Mortlake

  Elaine drove the big Rover in silence for fifteen minutes, twisting through Richmond, always trending south. Elaine’s personal mobile warbled. It was Peter. She asked Fiona to put it on the speaker.

  “Hi, Peter. I’m busy right now. Can we talk maybe tomorrow?”

  “Fuckwit called. He asked if I knew where you were. Anything you need help with?”

  “No! He called you?”

  “Yeah. Said you were in danger and he needed to warn you.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “What could I tell him? I said I had no clue. He didn’t believe me.”

  “If I’m in danger, it’s from him. Shit! I’ll text you from another phone. Hang up, now!” She ended the call.

  “What was that about?” Fiona asked. “So that was Peter. Who’s Fuckwit?”

  “Yep, Peter. Fuckwit’s Novak. Good story how he got the moniker. I need to text Peter from the burner. But first, take the battery out of my phone.” She handed the phones to Fiona. “Ready? I’ll dictate. Text, ‘He knew you would call me.’”

  Seconds later the burner pinged. It was Peter.

 

  Elaine chuckled. “Yep, the boy’s sharp. Send, ‘Yes, need place to hide.’”

  Ping.

 

  Elaine laughed. “Really sharp. Why didn’t I think of that? The place is a fucking fortress.” At Fiona’s puzzled look, she added, “His sister’s a diplomat. A spy. Really.”

  “Wow. And I thought being married to a cop was cool.” She paused. “David, I mean.”

  Elaine wondered how cool it could really be. “Text him, ‘Tell Fuckwit I won’t tell you where we’re going.’ Then text, ‘We’ll be at your place in an hour.’”

  Ping.

 

  Ping.

 

  “What did I tell you? That guy has your back,” Fiona said. “What makes the house a fortress?”

  “We had to search it last year during a case. That’s how we met. I don’t know all of it, but it’s got really heavy doors and multiple layers of security systems. If someone tries to breach the doors, a Special Air Service squad shows up. Or someone like that. It’s what he told me.”

  “No!” Fiona began giggling. “That would be a hell of a surprise!”

  “If Novak finds out we’re there, he’ll probably just station a car on the street. Even if he wants inside, Peter will make him get a warrant first. If his sister Kate’s involved, they’ll never get the warrant. But we’ve bought some time. I need to think.”

  Why had Novak chosen to brazen it out instead of running? He surely knew the assault at the safe house would point suspicion at him. But if he’d been careful with the planning, and the two thugs weren’t caught, nothing would be traceable back to him.

  Would anyone believe Liz’s story? Elaine couldn’t remember if Liz had taken pictures.

  Traffic had gotten thicker, so Elaine slowed. “Okay. Can you call the contact marked ‘RH’ on the burner phone? That’s Liz.”

  When Elaine asked after Jenkins, Liz sounded fraught. “He’s still in surgery. The doctor in A&E said the bullet ripped his femoral artery. The medics at the scene got it clamped, but another few minutes and he wouldn’t have made it. We sent a car for his wife. And, guv, two large, quiet men have settled in the waiting room. They’re wearing earpieces.”

  �
��Doesn’t surprise me. Just steer clear of them. If you see Jenkins, tell him we’re behind him. What else?”

  “Costello’s at the incident room, but Novak isn’t there.”

  “One more thing, did you get pictures of Novak and the two goons who attacked us?”

  “Several.”

  “Right. Send them to me first chance you get. Call me when you have news of Jenkins.”

  The burner pinged. It was Peter.

 

  It pinged again.

 

  Elaine thought for a moment, then said, “Text, ‘Tell him she needs medical attention.’”

  Ping.

 

  Elaine laughed and said to Fiona, “If Novak thinks you need a doctor, he might waste time looking for us in hospitals. Text him, ‘No, its a delaying tactic.’”

  Seconds later, the mobile pinged again.

 

  FORTY-FOUR

  Saturday night, Highgate

  “You’re safe here. Nobody’s getting in this house unless Corporal Redmond there lets them in.” Kate indicated the beefy, black-clad soldier standing against the wall in the sitting room. His sub-machine gun hung loosely from a shoulder strap. “I requested protection.”

  “I’ll make another round of the property, ma’am,” Redmond said to Kate, “before DCS Cranwell arrives.” He moved through the kitchen and disappeared down the steps to the basement.

  Fiona shivered. “It’s like a thriller movie.”

  “We only do it to impress,” Peter said. “Would you two like to clean up before Cranwell gets here?”

  Fiona nodded, but Elaine shook her head. “This is Jenkins’s blood. I won’t wash it off just yet.”

  After Kate showed Fiona to the lavatory, Peter asked, “Can we talk?”

  At her nod, he took her hand and led her up the stairs. Peter’s second-floor bedroom was as Elaine remembered it. They stood before the panoramic floor-to-ceiling window overlooking London. The distant lights of Canary Wharf twinkled through the clear night outside. His huge channel-back chair, the duvet folded over its arm, invited her to surrender to the passion she had felt growing in the last two days.