by Mark Timlin
We went back to the block of flats and used Georgie’s security key to get the lift to the penthouse. He carried the suitcases into the flat where Alexie, Mum and Judith were waiting. Jack showed the room the shotgun and I held up Georgie’s gun in my hand. ‘Weapons on the floor,’ I ordered, ‘and no messing about.’
‘You stupid boy,’ said Mum to Georgie. ‘How could you let this happen?’
He didn’t reply, but looked at the floor.
‘Weapons,’ I said again, tapping my foot impatiently.
Alexie pulled out another Glock and it hit the carpet, next to mum’s little pistol. ‘That’s good,’ I said, picking them up, Robber’s shotgun covering me, directed straight at them. ‘Now let’s all just relax, and we’ll be leaving.’
‘Is that Mr Robber?’ asked Judith, looking pleased. She’d always seen Jack as a grandfather figure.
‘In the flesh,’ he replied. ‘How are you love?’
‘All the better for seeing you,’ she said, before planting her fist square into Georgie’s face. ‘I’ve been wanting to do that for days,’ she said, sounding satisfied.
That’s when it all kicked off.
59
Something snapped in Georgie when Judith punched him, and he went right for her throat with both of his meaty hands. He smashed her against the wall, so I fired the Glock. The bullet slammed into the plaster next to them, but he didn’t let go. I couldn’t risk firing again for risk of hitting her so I ran across the floor and slugged him hard on the back of the neck with the pistol’s barrel. Only then did he release the pressure on Judith, but in all the commotion, Alexie pulled a small revolver from an ankle holster and levelled it at me. But before he’d had the chance to fire Jack pulled the trigger on the scatter gun, blowing most of Alexie’s head off his shoulders. That really got to Mum, who threw herself across the carpet screaming blue bloody murder, hell bent on reaching the gun that had fallen from his hand. It was my turn then, and I fired the Glock again. The first bullet hit her between the shoulder blades, the second knocked the wig from her head, exposing balding grey hair. She never even got to the gun. Just lay with her twitching outstretched fingers inches from the butt.
Georgie really lost it then and came at me hard. I hit the carpet and knew he had to die too or we’d never see the end of this, so I put one shot into his open mouth and the back of his skull. Most of his brain joined his brother’s across the balcony window. He fell beside me and I rolled over and on to my feet.
‘Now why the fuck did you hit him?’ I said to Judith through the haze of smoke, cordite stench and coppery smell of blood.
‘It seemed like a good idea at the time,’ she replied, although I could hardly hear for the ringing in my ears from the gunfire.
‘Well, whatever. But I think it’s time for us to go, don’t you?’ I looked at the three bodies on the thick carpet which was fast soaking up the spilt blood. They hadn’t even managed to get one shot off between them. The three of us were stinking of cordite, and there were gory splatters on our clothes.
We gathered all the weapons – both theirs and ours – and carried them out in a couple of black sacks I found in the kitchen, and Judith collected her coat from the room where they’d kept her prisoner. She pulled her coat over the blood on her dress, and Jack and I cleaned ourselves up as best we could in the bathroom. Before we left I gave her back her mobile.
She switched it on, and checked something. ‘Well, just fancy that,’ she said.
‘What?’ I asked.
‘Later. This place is giving me the creeps, let’s get out of here.’
The last thing I did before we left the room was put Mum’s wig straight. ‘Don’t want you having a bad hair day do we?’ I said, as we left the building, carrying the suitcases back to the motor.
60
The whole block was silent as we headed back to the car. It might just as well have been completely empty – perhaps it was. Same deal in the street. Just a couple of pedestrians and some passing cars, but no sign of any cops. Seemed like no one had noticed the commotion in the penthouse we’d just left – guess people round here tended to keep to themselves. Thank Christ for triple glazing, I thought. We stuffed the swag in the boot of the Jag, and drove back to Park Lane, Jack Robber proudly at the wheel. ‘So, what now?’ he asked.
‘Me, I’m off home,’ I said. ‘Back to the island. If I can get a flight tonight I can be in the States tomorrow, call up my pilot friend and be back in time for a late Christmas lunch.’
‘Can’t you stay another day?’ asked Judith.
‘No darling,’ I said. ‘I told you. I don’t belong here any more.’
‘You might get a pull at the airport,’ she warned. ‘Don’t forget what that spook said about facial recognition software.’
‘It’s the day before Christmas,’ I said. ‘The place will be heaving. And I’m going, not coming. Anyway, if I do get nicked, well that’s life. I’ll take my chances.’
‘And the money?’
‘I’m not humping that about. Hey Jack. Take one of the bags as a thank you. And Judith, you have the other. Merry Christmas.’
‘A quarter of a million,’ said Jack, his eyes wide. ‘Christ, Nick, are you sure?’
‘Like I said to that Russian, Jack, it’s only money. I’ve got plenty more.’
‘What can I say?’
‘Say nothing mate. I couldn’t have done it without you. Call it your payment. You’d better take the motor too. You can take it back to any Hertz office. Or keep the bloody thing. Have some fun. Enjoy yourself.’
‘I’ll do that all right. Might even get my leg over. It’s been a long time.’
‘Too much information, Jack,’ said Judith, laughing.
‘And get rid of those bloody guns will you?’ I said.
‘No problem.’
We went to the hotel, sliding through the back entrance so as not to attract any attention and Jack collected his things. Judith dived into a shower and got changed before we all had a last drink together.
As he was leaving he said, wistfully, ‘I doubt we’ll meet again.’
‘Probably not,’ I said. ‘But who knows? You might fancy a trip to the Caribbean. You’ve got the cash for a ticket now, anyway.’
‘No.’ he replied. ‘Better like this. Both of us still standing. Judith. You take care. Keep in touch love.’
‘I will,’ she said, and Jack shook my hand, gave Judith a hug and left, after one final Merry Christmas to us both.
‘So,’ I said to my daughter. ‘This is it.’
‘Looks like it Dad.’
‘I won’t say it’s been fun, but I’m glad I came.’
‘Me too, believe me.’
‘So it’s Christmas as usual?’
‘Yeah. I need to get some stuff. Presents. You know. Sorry I haven’t got anything for you.’
‘You’re all I need.’
‘Still the charmer, eh Dad?’
‘It’s the truth.’
‘I know.’
‘So tell me, who did kill that snout of yours? Are you any the wiser?’ I asked.
‘Those two bloody Russian idiots,’ she replied, shaking her head. ‘They didn’t realise what a pair of total arseholes they were. Went round to Tommy’s flat after he’d copied those photos and fucked their hard drive. He thought they didn’t know where he lived. Only sensible thing they did was keeping tabs on the poor sod, it seems. They were so wired on booze and coke that Alexie pulled the trigger before they had a chance to find out where he’d hidden the memory stick.’
‘So how did they find us?’
‘That Scottish spook bastard gave them a heads up.’
‘Charming. So what about you?’ I asked.
‘I’m golden. Got a text – I’ve been fully exonerated of all charges. Back on duty the day after Boxing Day. Bu
t it’s traffic. Uniform. Their way of telling me I’m not totally off the hook.’
‘You going to do it?’ I asked.
‘Dunno. Like I said, I was thinking about putting in my papers. And now with all that cash...’
‘Well remember what I told you. I mean it, you’re always welcome at mine. Who knows, you might even meet a nice bloke on the island.’
‘We’ll see Dad. Anyway, got to go. Get the car and head off to Kent.’
‘Merry Christmas then,’ I said. ‘I love you.’
‘Love you too. Always will,’ she said.
We hugged tightly and Judith left in her car with the case of money.
So that was that.
61
So all I had left to do was to pay my bill and find my way home. Home. Now there’s a word. For so long, London had always been the place I thought of as home. Even when I was on the island, baking myself in the sun and listening to Reggae, Ska, Bluebeat, jazz and old rock and roll records at Clive’s bar on that old jukebox. But after this trip, I knew it wasn’t – not any more. The island was my home, and I hoped it always would be. Maybe I’d even get a visitor after all this time. And maybe Judith would go back to being a copper, and just make the occasional phone call to me.
I called up Stew the cabbie. ‘You working?’ I asked.
‘Always. Gotta keep the wolf from the door.’
‘Fancy a run to the airport?’
‘Course. What time’s your flight?’
‘Small problem. Don’t have one yet. Just fancied going home for the holidays. See a few folks. Missing the place.’
‘Your job’s finished then I take it? You’ll be lucky getting a flight on Christmas Eve, mind you.’
‘Oh there’ll be something. Just need to get back. If necessary I’ll hire a private jet.’
‘Blimey. I’ll expect a decent tip then.’
‘You got it mate. Now listen, I’m going to have a good lunch and a bit of a drink. Got some things to celebrate. Then I’ll settle up here. Give us a shout about four, yeah?’
‘Consider it done,’ he said, as we both hung up.
So I did just that. Pierre got more cash, and seemed very happy with my residency. No blood on the walls anyway.
I left most of the clothes I’d bought in the wardrobe – I’m sure someone would have found a use for them – but kept the overcoat as it was freezing outside. I pulled on my old jeans and boots, threw a few bits into my bag and left.
Couldn’t wait to get away if truth be known.
At four I got a call that my cab was waiting outside.
62
Nick Sharman left the hotel with his one bag in his hand, into the light snow that was just beginning to fall. The streets were wet and slippery, but still crowded with shoppers heading home and punters looking for a few Christmas Eve drinks. The doorman pointed at Stew’s cab. ‘Your driver’s waiting. Going to the airport?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Bad night for travelling.’
Sharman pulled up his coat collar. ‘Could be better,’ he said. ‘But I’ll be in the sunshine soon enough.’
‘Lucky you. Christmas dinner on the beach?’
‘You got it.’
‘Did you enjoy your stay?’
‘It had its moments.’
‘Well have a good flight. And a Merry Christmas to you.’
‘Same to you.’ And Nick handed him a ten pound note.
‘Thank you sir. Now you be careful.’
‘Always am.’
But he was wrong. As he headed across the wide pavement towards the waiting taxi, a ragged-looking man approached him. ‘Got any spare change sir?’ he asked in a foreign accent.
‘As it happens, yes,’ said Sharman, reaching into the pocket of his coat for the few coins there. With one hand holding his bag, and the other trapped by material, the man spoke again, his voice harsher now. ‘You shot the wrong Russians,’ he growled, producing a silenced .22 calibre automatic from under his jacket and shooting Sharman twice in the chest. He opened his mouth to speak, but instead lost his balance and fell to the pavement. The ragged man put another bullet into his head, then, under the astonished looks from passing pedestrians, the doorman of the hotel, and Stew the cabbie, vanished into the crowds.
63
At around the same time on Christmas Eve, DI Judith Sharman was driving down the A2 on her way to Kent to see her friends for Christmas, hastily purchased and wrapped presents on the back seat of her car, when a Range Rover fitted with steel bumpers clipped the back of the vehicle. ‘Oh shit,’ she said, as she hit her emergency blinkers and pulled onto the hard shoulder followed by the truck.
She exited her car and walked back as the front passenger door of the Range Rover opened. A masked figure emerged, holding a suppressed automatic pistol. Judith turned to run back to her car but was swiftly cut down by two bullets in her back. The shooter walked over and put another bullet into the back of her head before returning to his vehicle which drove off and got lost in the traffic.
It was later discovered that her flat had been broken into that same afternoon.
* * *
The hired Jaguar was discovered burnt out in The Bluebell Woods near Guildford the day after Boxing Day. Jack Robber was identified by dental records as the deceased driver, who had been shot at point blank range twice in the head.
No money or weapons were ever recovered.
No one was ever arrested for any of the three killings.
END
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This ebook edition first published in 2016
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© Mark Timlin 2010
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