by Elena Forbes
He was staring at her, unblinking, waiting for her response.
‘Neither of them killed her,’ she said, meeting his gaze. ‘Your man shot the wrong people.’
His face hardened. ‘That can’t be. Now I know you’re lying.’
‘I tell you, he got it wrong.’
‘That’s not what I—’
‘Two more innocent people have died because of you. I hope you rot in hell.’ She got up again and turned to the guard behind her. ‘I’m done here. I’d like to go now.’
‘But I’m not finished,’ Duran shouted. ‘You can’t go. I must know.’
With her back to him, she waited for the door to be opened, then left the room. Not knowing who had killed his daughter or why would be his punishment for everything he had done. He would go to his grave without that certainty and the thought gave her some small but meaningful satisfaction.
‘Tell me. That’s all I ask.’ His voice boomed after her. ‘I’ll find out who you really are.’
Out in the corridor, she heard more bellowing, the words full of rage and more or less unintelligible. It sounded as though he had gone berserk. There was a crash. He must have thrown something hard and heavy, like a chair or the fire extinguisher hanging on the wall behind him, at the plate glass partition. The miracle was how he had the strength to do it. A siren cut through the air and the guard who had been accompanying her, turned and rushed back towards the room.
FORTY-SEVEN
Just after five thirty in the afternoon, Eve finally emerged through the huge revolving glass doors of the Met Police building in central London, her male barrister following closely behind her. Dan watched as they walked down the steps together and stopped on the busy, windy pavement outside. She was smartly dressed, in a dark, fitted coat and trousers and was carrying a small, black briefcase. It was impossible to tell from her expression, or her body language, how the hearing had gone.
She had been there since first thing that morning and had texted Dan at lunchtime saying that they would be finished by the end of the day. He had been waiting for her for the past hour in the little café opposite, on tenterhooks, wondering if it was a good thing, or a bad thing, for the hearing to be taking so long. Watching her, as she stood talking to the barrister, the wind whipping her hair in her face, he felt increasingly apprehensive. He was also very worried about her. A dark cloud seemed to have enveloped her after what had happened in the woods ten days before. It had brought out a whole range of other emotions that she struggled to keep at bay. She wouldn’t tell him much beyond the barest of facts about what had happened to her at Westerby, and at the marina, but from the little he gleaned it all sounded horrific. How she was feeling about Gavin Challis’s death, he couldn’t begin to imagine. But he let her be. It was clear she didn’t want to talk about it, or about anything much that had happened in the past few weeks. Not for the first time, he sensed her fragility. She was barely holding herself together for the hearing and he felt that if he just scratched beneath the surface, she might fall apart.
He quickly left a handful of change on the table to cover his several coffees and, once the lawyer took his leave, went outside to join her. Eve was scanning the pavement, looking for him, and he called out and waved as he sprinted across the street.
‘How did it go?’ he asked, as he joined her.
‘Better than I expected.’ Her expression still gave nothing away. ‘At the last minute, somebody came forward saying they had overheard me trying to get clearance to speak to Liam Betts and that, just as I clearly remember, Superintendent Johnson had given his approval, even though he’s still denying it.’
‘Why didn’t they come forward before?’
She shrugged. ‘Nobody likes to be a whistle-blower, particularly when it’s going against the word of somebody much more senior and it’s all so politically sensitive. What happened caused Jason’s death, as well as wrecking a top-level surveillance operation. Heads will roll. The recording of Paul Dent in the pub, showing that I had been set up, was also very helpful. Of course, they were very curious to know where it had come from. Luckily, I’m sure they won’t be able to trace it.’
Dan knew what had really happened. Not for the first time, he was amazed how she could be so economical with the truth when it suited, yet so black and white at other times. Maybe, after everything she had been through, she was becoming a little more pragmatic.
‘So what happens now?’ he asked nervously.
‘There’s an investigation going on into the information leak, in particular how Duran’s man, Dmytro, knew about the surveillance operation on the house in Park Grove and also his links to Paul Dent. Dmytro’s not on the registered list of informants, so Paul should not have been talking to him either officially, or unofficially. But Dmytro is no doubt long gone by now, so I’m not sure how far they’ll get. As for that shit, Paul Dent, he’s for the high-jump and he deserves everything that’s coming. It’s clear from the recording that he knew that the operation was top secret and that he didn’t care about jeopardizing it to get at me.’
She was ignoring the main question, the one that really mattered to him. ‘What about you?’ he asked.
‘Oh, they’ve offered to reinstate me …’
His heart missed a beat, but he forced a smile, trying to look as though he was pleased for her. ‘That’s wonderful. You must be so relieved.’ The words sounded hollow.
She was studying him and he caught a mischievous glint in her eyes. Was he so totally transparent? Had she guessed how much he wanted her not to return, that behind it all, he hoped she would come and work with him? Perhaps there were other things too she had guessed. The thought made the colour rise to his cheeks, but there was nothing he could do about it. There were worse things in life than a woman knowing he fancied her, he decided.
‘You accepted?’
She hesitated, still holding his gaze, then shook her head. ‘Don’t worry. I told them where to stick it.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Yes.’ She shivered and pulled on a pair of leather gloves. ‘Come on. Let’s go. It’s too cold to stand around out here.’
They started to walk together, following the crowd of people making their way towards the Tube. The silence felt like a chasm between them.
They stopped at a crossing and, while they waited for the lights to change, he turned to her. ‘What will you do now?’ It was the million-dollar question and he dreaded her response.
‘I don’t know. I haven’t decided.’ She looked up at him. ‘More to the point, what are you going to do? Will you take Duran’s money and start over again?’
He sighed. What could he say? Duran’s solicitor, Alan Peters, had offered him a sizeable donation to keep the charity afloat. ‘Mr Duran takes a great personal interest in your charity’, Peters had said. ‘He wants to make sure that it will keep going long after he’s dead.’ Blood money, was what Eve had called it. He didn’t blame her, after everything Duran had put her through. She was also surprised that even after she had left Bellevue prison without telling Duran who had killed his daughter, he was still prepared to offer Dan the money. Maybe Duran hoped she would relent in the end. If so, he was wrong. But however terrible he was as a man, however dreadful the things he had done, the money was clean, as far as Dan could tell, or at least no dirtier than a lot of money from far more so-called legitimate sources. Was it right to be so principled and refuse the money, when it might make the vital difference between surviving or going under? What charity in its right mind could afford to be so scrupulous? Perhaps the money could also be cleansed through the good work it would do. He had tried that argument with Eve over and over again, but she refused to accept it.
She was looking at him, her eyes dark and stern. ‘You are going to take it, aren’t you?’
He sensed her disappointment. ‘Maybe. Are you angry?’
‘No. Not angry. You must do what you feel is right. On balance, you probably should take it. Forgive the pun, but i
t would be a crime for 4Justice to disappear. The justice system needs you.’
‘You said Duran’s very ill, that he’s dying?’
She nodded. ‘It’s about the only thing he’s said that I actually believe. I guess if you don’t take it, maybe he’ll leave it to a cats’ home or something. They probably won’t care at all where the money came from.’
Were it not for her expression, he would have laughed. The idea of a man like Duran leaving a legacy to a load of homeless moggies was wonderfully ludicrous. He decided to take the plunge.
‘If we do carry on, maybe … Perhaps … If you’ve got nothing else planned … you’d come and work with me for a while. Until you find something else, that is.’
‘You are funny,’ she said, suddenly laughing as she reached out and touched his sleeve.
He had never seen her laugh before and he felt sudden relief. It was as though the dark clouds above them had parted and the sun had come out.
‘I knew that’s what you wanted to ask me the other night,’ she added teasingly. ‘Why didn’t you?’
‘I thought you wanted to go back to the police.’ It was a lie. He hadn’t dared ask, that was the truth. He hadn’t wanted to be shot down in flames.
‘Well, I’m done with that life. I want to move on and I’m looking for a challenge.’
‘Working with me would be a challenge?’
‘No. That part would be easy.’
‘It’s just an idea. Temporarily, if you like.’
‘That sounds good, at least for now. But I’ve got some savings tucked away for a rainy day. We can use that for the moment.’
He shook his head. ‘I’d rather take Duran’s money than yours. Anyway, we may not need it. All the publicity and stuff in the press has sent the phones ringing. Channel 4 want to commission a documentary about what we did for Sean and, apart from a whole new wave of people trying to get us to take on their cases, I’ve had several pledges of financial support. We’ve also been offered the use of an office free of charge for the time being, while the owner applies for planning.’
‘OK. Let’s start with that and see how we get along. But first I need a holiday. I haven’t had one for God knows how long. I fancy somewhere really hot and far away. I want to pack a small bag, go to the airport and just pick a destination from the departures board. But I promise I won’t be gone long, maybe just a few weeks, or a month at most, that’s all. I get easily bored with nothing to do. Then I’ll come and join you, if that’s what you really want.’
He could hardly believe what he was hearing and was speechless for a moment, emotion and excitement welling inside. He took a deep breath, trying not to let it show. ‘Yes. You sure that’s what you want to do?’
She nodded. ‘It is. Let’s shake on it, then.’ She held out her small hand and, as he took it, she looked deep into his eyes and smiled. ‘Here’s to a new beginning. And to 4Justice. Long may it continue and thrive.’