Rhino looked down the hillside at the scene through a pair of binoculars whilst thumbing a number on his phone. “We’re on site, boss,” he said when his call was answered. “Not close, but we can see what’s going on. Not near enough to hear anything, though.”
He listened to Chris Dawson’s response, then replied, “Yeah, we’re starting to figure out the main players. None of them have left the scene so far. No one getting too excited, either. All pretty routine. Any word from your man?”
“As you suggest, Rhino,” Dawson said, “there’s not a lot happening just yet.”
Rhino wanted to press a little harder. Felt as if he needed to be aware if the boss’s bought-and-paid-for cop was somewhere down there at the foot of the hill. It seemed to him they were missing a trick if so. He could see no advantage in him and Haystacks being in exactly the same place as an informant who was balls-deep in their midst. On the other hand, he was a man who followed orders and got on with the job. The less he knew, the less he could tell if he was questioned.
“So what’s the play here?” he asked instead. “Your man gives us a heads-up when they get a line on this Mike Lynch guy, yeah?”
“That’s the plan, Rhino.”
“How much of a head start do we get?”
“As much as circumstances dictate. Could be five minutes, could be an hour. Bank on the former, Rhino. Or somewhere in between.”
“And the job no change there?” He and Chris had discussed privately the parameters and expectations of what was required.
“None. Don’t worry, Rhino. If I change my mind you’ll be the first to know. But don’t hold your breath.”
Rhino glanced at the time on his phone’s display. Something had to happen soon. It had been a few hours since Ray had been gunned down. “Anything else, boss?”
“They had a spot of excitement earlier, before you two arrived. This Lynch fuckwit booked a room using his bank card. Dumb bastard. He was gone by the time the filth arrived. The room was empty, and no sign of Ray’s Beemer, either. But if the bloke is that stupid, they’ll have him soon enough.”
Rhino let that sink in. “Which way is he headed?” he asked.
“Hard to tell, Rhino. East of you, but there’s no knowing which direction he took when he left the motel.”
“Any further thoughts on Melissa, boss?”
“Plenty. And none of them good.”
“If any of the lead players move out and we haven’t heard from you, you want us to go with them or wait here?”
“Use your initiative, Rhino. But make the right choice.”
“Prick,” Rhino said after the call ended.
11
The kid had settled down by the time I returned to the car. When Melissa then got out for a smoke leaving me and the kid alone, I feared the worst. Instead I was caught by surprise when Charlie sat forward, peered up at me from between the seats, and said, “Do you like cartoon films, Mike?”
Grinning and grateful for a reprieve from the bleating, I turned and replied, “Yes. Actually, I do. Which are your favourite ones?”
The kid wrestled with that for a while. “I like Toy Story. I like Ice Age. I like Moana. I like Frozen. Oh, and I like Shrek.” Her eyes flared at the thought of this film.
“Well, who doesn’t like Shrek?”
“Amanda Wilson. She thinks he’s silly.”
I chuckled. “Maybe it’s Amanda Wilson who’s the silly one. I like Up. Have you seen that one? You know, the old man, the boy, the house and the balloons.”
“And the dogs,” the kid said, giggling and nodding.
“Squirrels!” we both cried at the same time, which set Charlie laughing harder still. She made a sweet sound.
“You’re like the man in Up,” she said.
“I am? I don’t look much like him.”
“No, but he was very grumpy, too.”
I had to laugh at that. “He was, I suppose. But he did have rather a lot to be grumpy about.”
“Roger was never grumpy.”
“I’m sure he was from time to time, but he probably just hid it from you. Would you like me to do that, Charlie? Hide it from you when I’m feeling grumpy?”
She nodded. So serious was her look that I wanted to laugh again, but I sensed this issue was important to the kid. It made me wonder whether Ray Dawson had managed to keep his world from her as much as Melissa believed.
“Tell you what,” I said. “How about I try my best not to be grumpy? I can’t promise I won’t be, but I will try my hardest.”
“Okay. So, do you want to watch a cartoon now?”
“Now? We can’t at the moment, not while we’re in the car.”
At this, the kid nodded enthusiastically, rummaged around inside the pink backpack that had been sitting in the footwell, before emerging with an iPad. “I watch them on here. Do you want me to find Up for you?”
I was touched that she would allow me to choose rather than opt for one of her own favourites. I shook my head, but gave her a smile and a wink. “I’ll have to drive as soon as Melissa gets back in the car. But thank you, Charlie. You choose what you want for now, and maybe we’ll watch it together later, eh?”
That appeared to pacify her. Moments later the BMW rocked slightly as Melissa climbed back in. “What were you two talking about?” she asked. “I could hear you both jabbering away.”
“Cartoons,” I answered. “Cartoons and grumpiness.”
“No surprise on either one.”
“That hurts. Anyhow, Charlie and I have reached an agreement. I’m going to try and be a little less grumpy around her, and if I am my prize will be I get to choose a cartoon to watch.”
Melissa raised her eyebrows. “Impressive. Let’s see how long that lasts.”
I couldn’t fault her scepticism.
A few minutes later, I set off for the library. I followed signs once I reached the river. Traffic was dense, but flowing nicely enough. I noticed a couple of car parks, but then saw a different sign and something occurred to me. I checked to see that the kid was engrossed in her film, small headphones worn over her ears.
“How about I drop you two off first,” I said over my shoulder. “I could take the Beemer to the train station and leave it in the car park there? That way, if it’s found they might assume we caught a train out of here. Could be a useful bit of misdirection.”
Melissa nodded. “Even better, you could use a credit card to buy three tickets. If your card is being traced, that would work perfectly.”
“I’d thought of that. The problem is, they may well have already put a block on my cards. I do have a business one that I use for emergencies, and they may not have got round to tracing it yet. I’ll try it at the station, and if it works I’ll also get as much cash as it will allow me.”
“You know, it’s possible they will leave your cards unblocked. It’s a way of tracing you, so I think they’d be reluctant to cut it off. In fact, they’d probably love for you to use one.”
I jabbed a finger in her direction. “You could be right about that. I’ll try my usual card, and only use the other one if it fails. We may need something for emergencies.”
“Why drop us off first?” she asked me. It felt to me as if there was a small note of suspicion in her voice. “Why not just drive straight there now?”
It was easy to understand Melissa’s concerns. She and I had begun to relax a little around each other, found some common ground. Her trust was something I had yet to earn. “It will be a lot easier for me to get back to the library on my own. The sign back there said four miles to the station, and we’re almost at the library now. Once I’ve parked up the car I can hike it back in under an hour, but it would be a long walk for Charlie.”
“We could get a taxi.”
“No. The police are bound to check once they find the car.”
I saw the doubt in her face. I thought I knew why. “You’re wondering if I am going to come back, right? You think I’m going to say goodbye to you bo
th and then just keep on driving?”
“Something like that. Can you blame me?”
I let go a frustrated sigh. I dropped my voice lower. “To be honest, if I wasn’t in the frame for murder I wouldn’t be here now. That makes me sound like a complete bastard, I know, given how you and the kid are caught up in all this with me, but that’s me. My problem is, as we have already discussed, that you are my alibi. The way I see it, only you can get me out of trouble with both the police and your boss’s brother. I need you, Melissa. Far more than you need me, in fact. And until we’ve worked out exactly what we’re going to do next, that’s the way it will remain.”
Still she seemed uncertain. There was a sadness in her eyes I had not seen before.
Traffic was a little backed up so I had to concentrate harder for a few minutes. When it started easing I glanced behind me again. “Why would it be so bad for you if I did do a runner anyway?” I asked her. “I’m hardly any help.”
Melissa shrugged. Hugged herself. “I suppose part of it is the same as your reasoning: you are also my alibi, and the only one who saw what that NCA cop did. But I suppose I was also hoping you would somehow find a way out of this for us.”
“Why? Because I’m a man? Because I’m more mature?”
“Yes. Both of those.”
I gave a cough-cum-laugh. “Yes, well I think you’ve already got a pretty good idea of what kind of man I am. As for maturity, that just makes me more fearful and self-absorbed.”
Eventually she surrendered. “Just come back, Mike. Maybe then we’d have got some idea of how to handle this.”
“I promise you, Melissa, I will come straight back.”
“In that case, when you do, you can start calling me Mel. That’s what my friends call me.”
I nodded. Surprised and pleased. We seemed to have reached a level of understanding that we could both live with. Neither of us were enjoying our time together, but we were together, and destined to be for a while yet.
Three minutes later, I nosed the BMW off the main road and pulled up outside a smart, single-storey building that looked only a few years old. It was a quiet street, clean and easier on the eye than those around it. “I’ll find you in the kids’ section,” I told Melissa. I glanced around as the two climbed out, fearful of a beat cop or a patrol car drifting by. Melissa steered Charlie ahead of her, her arms burdened by the straps of one holdall and one pink backpack. Moments later, I drove off on my own in a gangster’s BMW.
It never once occurred to me to run. That was last night’s attitude, born of panic and fear and the loss of control that comes with those emotions. I still wanted to be far away, free of the shackles I felt had been imposed upon me by having to take care of Mel and the kid. Nothing had changed there. The difference was that, in the early hours of the morning my mind had been in such a state that I would have left the two of them to their own devices and not thought twice about it. Time has a way of restructuring priorities, of paving the way for our natural instincts to find a way through.
I found the station easy enough with the familiar logo guiding the way. I’d had to cross back over the river Avon, and as I hung a right at a small roundabout an Audi with police livery slipped in behind me. I felt my cheeks flush as I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. My focus switched back and forth between the road ahead and the road behind. At one point, I wondered what might happen if I just stopped, pulled up the handbrake, got out and turned myself in. It felt like anything had to be better than this torture.
One glance in the rear-view revealed the cop in the passenger seat speaking into the communication device pinned to the breast pocket of his bright yellow jacket. I wondered whether the BMW’s number plate had raised a red flag to those behind. If the cop might be calling it in right there and then, summoning backup; armed officers, not just prepared but eager to take down a suspected gunman. The longer it went on the more I became certain of it, and I started preparing my story.
I turned off towards the station car park, believing with utmost certainty that the Audi’s indicator was going to flash, that the police car would follow me up towards the station and into the car park. But even as a tremor started juddering its way along my extended arms, I saw the vehicle continue on its way along the main thoroughfare. I let go of about five minutes’ worth of breath. Sweat trickled down from my hairline. I could not recall having been as frightened as this in many years.
12
Melissa was proven right my credit card had not been frozen. From the ATM outside the station I withdrew the maximum amount of cash allowed, and then used the same card to purchase three one-way tickets to Paddington. I chatted briefly to the women behind the ticket counter, hoping she would remember me when questioned later. I made some lame joke about my daughter hoping to meet the famous bear who wore a hat and ate marmalade sandwiches. From the adjacent coffee bar I bought a coffee and deliberately screwed up my order on three occasions.
The pavements on the way back to the library were as busy as the roads, and though I kept my head down, shoulders hunched forward as I walked, my paranoia soon kicked in. It was not long before every man and woman who came towards me was a plain-clothes cop, every step behind me the last I would hear before having handcuffs snapped on. Every movement around me was aggressive, every building somehow hostile. When I rubbed my brow it came back soaked with sweat, and each step seemed to take me further away from my destination. It was like walking on a conveyor belt travelling in the wrong direction.
I had travelled barely a mile before I felt a familiar panic clamouring in my chest, closely followed by a yearning which never strayed too far away even at the best of times. I forced myself to focus on the paving slabs, taking no notice of the shops, I passed along the route. My head wasn’t right, and it would be hard to pass an off-licence or pub or bar. It might even prove impossible. Finding oblivion courtesy of alcohol was not the answer, but it was an answer. One that had done the trick for me on so many occasions. Yet with each step taken I silently managed to talk myself down off the ledge, began to turn my mind away from those unwelcome desires. It was with no small measure of relief, however, when I turned towards the side street that would take me back to the library.
Its interior was plain but pleasant, a vaulted ceiling lending the place an airy, open feel. There were posters and framed pictures on every wall, advertisements for events, some local photography. The librarian was busy with a customer when I entered, which saved me from smiling a greeting. I worked my way around the numerous sections until I located the area set aside for children’s books. When Melissa looked up at me with what I imagined was genuine relief, I was touched by this small show of faith.
The kid was sitting on a small plastic bench, a large colourful book splayed open in her lap. “Sometimes it’s the only way to shut her up,” Melissa confessed. “That or her iPad or Pod. She could be lost in either world for hours if I let her.”
“Well, let her. For now, anyway. We have things we need to sort out.”
She was seated close to the kid on her own at a small adult-sized table, a Private Eye magazine in front of her. “Did everything go smoothly?” she asked.
I nodded, taking a seat opposite. I explained what had happened, omitting my thirst for alcohol and hunger for release. “I got us out some cash, bought the tickets as well, so hopefully they will eventually look in one direction while we’re disappearing the opposite way. What we have won’t last long, but long enough. If we don’t put an end to this today, then it has to be tomorrow at the latest.”
“I feel as if I could sleep for a week,” she said. Her clothes were more crumpled, hair a little more unkempt, but the biggest change was her eyes. She appeared harrowed, cheeks pinched. “I can’t believe it’s been less than twelve hours since the lay-by.”
“I take it you didn’t get any kip last night.”
“Not a wink. You did, though. Snored all the time.”
“Sorry.” My wife had complained about
that. An operation on my septum had contained it for a while, but it was a hopeless case. For some reason I related this to Melissa.
“Is that why she left you?”
“What makes you think she left me?”
“I just assumed.”
“Because I’m such a prick?”
She shrugged. “You told me you were a drunk, that your marriage ended. Your ex-wife and daughter live on another continent. I threw the dice.”
“I could have left her.”
She shook her head this time, offering a strained smile. “I doubt it.”
“Well, it just so happens that she did leave me. A lot of shit rained down on me in a very short space of time. It was hard to take, and I didn’t handle it well. I lost a decent job, and for some reason that was the final straw. I drank. I changed. I would have left me, too.”
“What other shit? You lost your job, but what happened before that to make your life so miserable? Was it the death of your parents?” Melissa regarded me with what felt like genuine concern.
“That. And other things. It’s a long story. For another time, perhaps.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
I spread my hands. “How about you, Mel? What did you do before you started working for Dawson?”
“I got a job straight out of sixth form college. Worked as a PA for a businessman. Very successful business, too. It was a decent job.”
“Sounds like it. Why the switch?”
Mel turned her face away. “Let’s just say he wanted me to be more than a PA to him. It wasn’t an amiable end to that career. He couldn’t exactly fire me, because I knew too much about him and his business and he didn’t want a wrongful dismissal case on his hands. But he didn’t have to sack me, he just had to make things so uncomfortable that I would walk. Which is what I did.”
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