by Tom Bale
Robbie just nodded: not interested. There were handshakes all round, and Robbie even had the nerve to give Patricia a kiss on the cheek. His car was on the drive: a black BMW. Undoubtedly the one that Jerry had photographed.
‘Cheeky rascal,’ Gordon said. ‘Ten minutes alone with Stemper and he’d be begging us to take that paperwork off his hands.’
‘Is that a route you favour, then?’
‘I suppose not. It’s breathtaking arrogance on his part, but he’s got us over a barrel and we may as well be pragmatic.’ He sighed. ‘How do you think he’ll react to his sister’s disappearance?’
‘We must hope it won’t affect him unduly. I still see the advantage in keeping her as insurance.’ Patricia rubbed her hands together, a lustre in her eyes. ‘You know, I really do believe we’re going to come up trumps.’
‘I wonder how Stemper will feel about this.’
‘Frankly, I don’t much care either way. Stemper is hired help, nothing more.’
Gordon liked the sound of that. ‘So from here on in, we can go it alone. The two of us, plus your hot new beau.’
‘Oh, nonsense.’ She slapped him lightly. ‘I’m old enough to be his mother.’
‘Ah, but you’re not his mother. Believe me, he was interested.’
‘Interested in the money. That was avarice you saw, Gordon, not lust.’
He grinned. ‘What I saw was a bit of both.’
‘Hmm. At least he was refreshingly honest about his ambitions.’ It seemed to Gordon that she was blushing slightly. Then a harsh change of mood as she gestured at the ceiling. ‘Except that bitch nearly spoiled everything.’
Watching Patricia advance on the stairs, he felt moved to issue a warning. ‘Don’t hurt her. Not too badly, I mean.’
‘Will you call Stemper?’ she said. ‘Hired help he may be, but we should run this past him all the same.’
‘I agree. And we’ll still need him to deal with Caitlin.’
Patricia looked back at him, smiling fiercely. ‘Oh, I don’t know. Maybe we can do that ourselves.’
CHAPTER 94
Robbie stopped at the first pub that looked like it might serve decent food and ordered a steak and a pint to celebrate.
In his view, the meeting had been a stunning success. The only niggling worry was whether the Blakes had accepted his proposal a little too readily. On reflection, Robbie decided not. They were basically in the same boat as Templeton. If somebody had you outmanoeuvred, you had to bite the bullet and do the best deal available.
Still, he’d need to be careful with what he handed over and when. He’d certainly hold back the evidence he had on the Blakes until they’d paid him. And that point about cash being toxic ... maybe Robbie should ask for a mix. An offshore account sounded appealing, but who to approach for information? He wouldn’t want his mother’s accountant knowing about this.
He wondered what their opening bid would be. He was planning to push for ten, although he’d settle for five. Made him want to giggle hysterically just thinking about it. Five million pounds.
He took out his phone and found a ton of missed calls and texts, mostly from his mum and Dan. He wasn’t sure if he could be bothered with them.
A pity that Dan hadn’t played ball. His advice might have been useful, and in return Robbie would have bunged him a hundred grand to buy a cafe. In fact, perhaps he’d do it anyway, to prove to Dan how badly he had misjudged his oldest friend.
Same with his sister. He’d pay off her mortgage. And for his mother, a piece of jewellery – something really extravagant and tacky – he’d hand it over and then tell her where to stick her job ...
No, better still: bail out the business with a hefty injection of cash, in return for a full partnership.
And poor old Bree. If only she’d found him a woman like Patricia Blake. He wouldn’t have believed it possible that he could have such a strong reaction to someone of that age, but there was no denying the chemistry. Even the sad sack of a husband had picked up on it.
An unorthodox relationship there, Robbie guessed. In the past he’d had wealthy clients invite him to swingers’ parties, and he knew the type.
His phone buzzed again. Another text from Dan. In the absence of something better to do, he opened it up.
Where the hell are you? Yr sister is missing. This is SERIOUS!
Robbie had to read it three times, and even then it didn’t make a lot of sense.
Missing?
****
Hayley’s Vauxhall Corsa had a smaller engine than Dan’s Fiesta, but it was newer and felt considerably more powerful. In other circumstances Dan might have enjoyed pushing the small car to the limit, throwing it around corners and stamping on the brakes.
He went first to Robbie’s flat, but no one answered. Then he cruised up and down Woodland Drive, unsure of Bree’s exact address but looking out for Robbie’s BMW. Again he drew a blank.
He couldn’t return to work. He was too worried. He drove to Cate’s, checked with the neighbour to see if anyone had come or gone, and only then, feeling defeated, he went home. Thankfully Louis was at college, and Joan was out visiting a friend.
He made himself a cheese sandwich and slumped on the sofa. No TV: he needed a respite from bad news.
His phone rang. Hardly daring to believe it could be Cate, he snatched it up and read the display. Robbie.
Dan answered in a fury. ‘Pick up your messages, will you? Your sister’s life could be in danger—’
‘Hey, hey, calm it. What’s happened?’
‘She didn’t make it into work earlier. Have you heard from her?’
‘Not a thing. Is that why Mum’s trying to get hold of me?’
‘Of course it is. DS Thomsett was at Compton’s earlier. It sounds like they’re investigating Janine’s family, in case it’s some kind of reprisal. Because of Cate and Martin ...’
‘Jesus,’ Robbie said. ‘I suppose you never know how people will react.’
‘Can you think of anywhere to look?’
‘Nope. Maybe she’s just gone off for some peace and quiet?’ Robbie lowered his voice. ‘I can see why you want to help here, Dan, especially now you’re all loved up. But make sure your path doesn’t cross with DS Thomsett. The last thing we need is him seeing you and making a link to those e-fits.’
‘Right now finding Cate is all that matters. Where are you?’
‘Nowhere special. Why?’
‘Something else I want to talk about, but not on the phone. Can you meet me?’
‘Okay.’ A long-suffering sigh. ‘The Black Lion in Patcham? Say about four?’
‘That’s nearly an hour and a half.’
‘Yeah. I’m up in Surrey. Earliest I can do.’
He rang off before Dan could respond. Surrey. What was Robbie doing in Surrey?
The answer was obvious, he realised. Robbie was doing what Robbie always did.
Looking after number one.
****
Cate had failed. She knew that from the silence that followed her fall.
Then the bedroom door was flung open and somebody marched in. That heavy, aggressive stride: the woman again.
‘I ought to leave you like this.’ She grabbed Cate’s foot and pinched the damaged toe.
Cate screamed, choking on the gag, tears streaming from her eyes. The woman heaved her back on to the bed as though she were a lump of meat.
‘Pull a stunt like that again and you’ll really know what pain is.’
****
Gordon fidgeted. He felt irritated, unhappy, for reasons he couldn’t put into words. When Patricia returned he said curtly, ‘Stemper’s ten minutes away.’
She gave him a curious look. ‘Something wrong?’
He knew his protest would sound petulant, but he went ahead and said it anyway. ‘I thought we didn’t want her to know about you.’
‘Rather academic now, isn’t it?’
‘Are you serious?’
She nodded, as relaxed as i
f they were discussing how to dispose of an old fridge. ‘Don’t you find, after the first one, there are far fewer qualms the next time?’
He took a moment before he replied. He didn’t want to snap; nor did he wish to appear faint-hearted.
‘I’m not sure. In my view it’s important that we don’t get too blasé. This is the taking of another human life we’re talking about.’
‘For the greater good. That’s what we agreed.’
He nodded glumly. No sense arguing when she was feeling so unstoppable, buoyed by the knowledge that the scheme was saved, and her ego flattered by the attentions of a handsome young man.
She took herself off to freshen up. When the doorbell rang she called out that she would get it, and shortly afterwards Stemper swept into the kitchen with Patricia at his shoulder.
Gordon’s first impression was of a man just beginning to crack under the strain, while valiantly striving to ignore that fact. His suit was crumpled, the jacket lopsided, as though it didn’t fit him properly. Gordon wouldn’t have dreamt of going out in public looking this shabby.
He realised that he and Patricia hadn’t decided how to broach the issue of Caitlin’s ex-husband. It seemed a low priority for Patricia, who spent several minutes gushing about Robert Scott, and how perfect he would be in the role of frontman.
Stemper greeted the proposal with muted scepticism. ‘Does Scott have any idea that you’re holding his sister?’
Gordon shook his head. Patricia said, ‘None at all.’
Quite emphatic. And that was fine, Gordon thought. There was only the little commotion as Robbie was leaving, which they’d explained plausibly enough.
Patricia added, ‘Our other great advantage is that he knows nothing about you.’
‘So once he’s secured the payout, my job is to remove him from the scene?’
‘If you’d be so kind.’ Patricia had agreed with Gordon that this was the line to take, even though she currently favoured sparing Robbie and eliminating Stemper.
‘And the girl?’ Stemper asked.
‘The same fate, alas. Though we keep her alive for now.’
‘Do you mind if I check on her?’
‘Not at all,’ Patricia said, stepping forward. ‘I’ll accompany you.’
She exchanged the briefest of glances with Gordon, which he took to mean that she preferred to discuss the ‘Martin’ issue discreetly, just the two of them.
‘A coffee, in the meantime?’ she asked brightly.
‘Actually,’ Stemper said, ‘a pot of tea would be marvellously refreshing.’
Patricia looked to Gordon – the skivvy – who as usual felt he had little choice but to bury his resentment and grin like the imbecile he probably was.
‘Coming right up.’
CHAPTER 95
Stemper had anticipated that Cate would tell them about Martin, which no doubt explained the rather taut atmosphere as they climbed the stairs. But he was intrigued by Patricia’s fulsome admiration for Robert Scott.
‘This is a transformation,’ she said. ‘I’ve told Gordon we should swallow our pride and accept that it’s a godsend, of sorts.’
‘Indeed.’
‘He’s coming back in the morning. I wonder if that’s when we should make the first approach to Templeton. Have Robbie phone from here, so we can gauge how well he performs.’
‘But you’d prefer that I was absent?’
‘I think so.’ She chuckled. ‘Unless you’d care to hide in a cupboard?’
Stemper laughed politely. Patricia unlocked the bedroom door, then stood aside to let him take a look. The woman was now blindfolded with a scarf, and she had been crudely gagged. Stemper regarded her for a few seconds, her body frozen in terror.
He withdrew, and as Patricia locked up he said, ‘The gag is a good idea, but you have to be careful of the suffocation risk.’
His tone was deliberately stern. He saw her frown as she moved towards the stairs. Stemper cleared his throat to regain her attention. At the same time he took the gun from his jacket. It was a Glock 26, complete with noise suppressor. The magazine contained seventeen rounds of 9mm ammunition.
Patricia looked faintly aghast but perceived no danger to herself, judging by the way she said, ‘What’s that thing for?’
He raised the gun. ‘For killing you, I’m afraid.’
Patricia said, ‘No.’ Then, ‘Stemper, please—’
He fired once, hitting her in the chest. The noise was little more than a click, easily misinterpreted at close range. The sound of the spent shell hitting the wall was only slightly louder.
Stemper darted forward, reaching for Patricia’s arm while pressing the silencer into her belly and firing again. Her eyes, still open as she slumped against him, shone with desolation.
He lowered her to the floor to lessen the impact, and when she was down he fired once more, to the head. Messy, but it looked passionate. It looked like an act of rage and retribution, exactly as he wanted it.
****
Cate heard it all, a succession of strange noises that she struggled to place in context. She’d sensed two people approaching the door and had braced herself for pain. But after a brief look inside, the door closed and there was a murmur of voices. One of them was the woman from earlier, the vicious cow who’d hurt her.
Then a click, and a pinging noise, as if something metal had struck the wall. A groan, and the creak of a floorboard, then more clicks and pings, and after that a single set of footsteps that receded and left Cate with only silence and a sickening impression that a bad situation had just become very much worse.
****
Gordon was trying to remember if he’d seen Stemper drink tea before. Normally he had coffee, or water. Why tea all of a sudden? Then the man himself was back in the kitchen. Alone.
‘Where’s Patricia?’
‘With our prisoner,’ Stemper said. ‘I think she’s as keen on Caitlin as you are.’
Ignoring the impertinence, Gordon said, ‘Did she mention Cate’s ex-husband?’
‘Martin? No. She may have intended to, but she didn’t quite get the chance.’
A mystifying comment. Gordon expressed that mystification in a single word: ‘Didn’t ...?’
By then Stemper had brought out a gun and was pulling the trigger. Three times, in quick succession, and with each one he took a step closer. All three shots hit Gordon with a very distinct impact, but he was aware of no pain, so there was a millisecond when he was riddled with bullets but still alive, not hurting – a survivor, he thought, against impossible odds – and then he realised that his legs were giving way beneath him and understood that he was quite, quite dead.
****
Not dead enough for Stemper. He fired another three shots, including one to the face. He had never liked Gordon’s face. Too smooth and tanned and smug.
To a degree, Stemper enjoyed this hit more than most. Not that it was personal, really; just immensely satisfying, from a professional point of view. Like any good magician, Stemper loved to spring surprises.
There was plenty to do: clean up, remove evidence, plant other evidence, report back on the success of his mission. But first he pulled on latex gloves. Then he checked on the progress of his tea.
****
As much as Cate could track the passage of time, she thought it was around twenty minutes before the door opened again. The footsteps were firm, not heavy. No perfume in the air.
If it was the man who’d questioned her earlier, she knew what he would be after. She had steeled herself to encourage him, to exploit his lust in exchange for making her more comfortable – and perhaps giving her a chance to escape. Nothing robbed a man of his good sense more than a hard-on.
She tensed as he touched her leg, examining the injured toe. Her stomach cramped with horror; maybe it was his scent, or the rhythm of his breathing, but she realised it wasn’t the man from earlier. This was her abductor. The man who had tortured her.
A spasm of panic made he
r body jerk as if electrocuted. In response he gently squeezed her arm.
‘Settle down. I’m not going to hurt you.’ His bedside manner as dispassionate as ever, like an efficient but jaded GP.
Holding her still with one hand, he used his other to peel off the tape that covered her mouth. Cate coughed and spat, trying to eject the gag. His fingers were on her lips; she tasted latex, but the sinister implication of the gloves was lost in the wave of relief that the gag was out and she could breathe freely again. She could swallow. She could talk.
‘There’s something I want you to do for me,’ he told her. ‘If you cooperate, I’m prepared to make things easier for you. If you don’t, I’ll make you suffer.’
CHAPTER 96
Robbie didn’t dawdle over his meal, but he didn’t rush it, either. He felt sure that Cate was fine. She’d always been the moody sort, and was probably just trying to get her head straight after Martin’s death.
The drive back was hampered by school-run traffic, but it was still one of the most enjoyable journeys of his life. Figuring out how to blow a couple of million quid – even if only hypothetically at this point – made any tailback bearable.
He was in Brighton for ten to four. His phone rang as he was crossing the city boundary. He had it on hands-free, and leaned forward to read the display. It was the number the Blakes had given him, so he answered breezily, radiating confidence and good cheer.
‘Hello there!’
A drab male voice said, ‘Mr Scott, I’m acting on behalf of Gordon and Patricia for the next stage of the operation. From now on you’ll deal with me.’
‘Hold on.’ Distracted by the roundabout he was trying to negotiate, Robbie couldn’t adjust to what he was hearing. ‘When did that get decided?’
‘This afternoon, shortly after your meeting.’
‘So who are you?’