“You’re lying,” Khan said.
“You know I’m not,” replied Jake. “Do you really think I would be this calm if this was the first I’d heard of it? Eckhart made a mistake, that’s all. He’s now put it right. Now drop the gun like he said. It’s over.”
After a moment of contemplation, Khan suddenly roared with anger and spun round violently, his shiny chrome Desert Eagle aimed straight at Eckhart as he fired. At the very same moment, Dave fired too and Jake reached out, grabbed Lizzie’s hand and pulled her free of Khan, pushing her to safety behind him.
Eckhart jerked sharply as the bullet smashed into him at such close range then, almost instantly, dropped like a stone, his legs buckling underneath him, no longer able to support the weight.
Khan was hit too and he staggered backwards, his heels right on the lip of the building, his arms windmilling as he tried desperately to maintain his balance and stop himself from falling. The Magnum flying from his grip and out into the night. But momentum was working against him as he began to topple over. Somehow, though he managed to snatch Jake’s hand, who, taken by surprise, suddenly had to use all the strength in his legs and arms to prevent himself from being dragged over the edge by Khan.
Jake skidded on the dusty cement floor, stopping mere inches from the edge as Lizzie grabbed his free hand and pulled back with all her might, her body near horizontal as she fought to stop him going over.
“Jake!” She screamed.
Khan still had hold of Jake’s other hand as he was suspended over the drop, sixty-five floors above the ground, nothing between him and the cold mud below except fresh air. The blood from the bullet wound in his side dripping down into the darkness.
“Help me!” Khan cried. “Help me, Sawyer please! Don’t let me die, not like this. I’ll go to prison, do whatever you want - confess to whatever you want, but please don’t let me fall.”
Jake could feel Arthur’s grip slipping and there was nothing he could do. Nothing he wanted to do.
“Help me!” Khan shouted again, as his grip slipped to just Jake’s fingertips.
Jake looked into Khan’s terrified face and spoke coldly. “You said you remembered the look in my boy’s eyes when you killed him. Well now I’m going to remember the look in yours.” Jake then jerked his hand away sharply so Khan could no longer hold on and the man who murdered Jake’s family fell back into the vacuum of night, his blood curdling scream heard all the way down to the ground.
Chapter 49
Back on the ground floor, paramedics were wheeling a stretcher across the uneven terrain towards their ambulance. On the stretcher Detective Sergeant Dave Eckhart had a blanket over him and was being provided with air from a plastic mask covering his nose and mouth.
He had lost a lot of blood from the gunshot wound in his shoulder. The .357 cartridge, shot at such close range, penetrating the kevlar vest and travelling straight through his shoulder and out the other side. Should proof have ever been needed against Arthur Khan, it was the same calibre of bullet, shot from the very same gun that had killed the Sawyer family and Richard Maddox. But Khan was now dead.
Dave had told Coyle everything after Jake called Scotland Yard earlier. He had admitted keeping the initial five hundred pounds given to him by Król and admitted phoning Peter Bearing about the evidence at Sumpter’s house. He knew that he had been a terrible fool and was truly sorry. Dave offered his resignation and said he would accept any punishment that was handed out as a result of his actions.
However, Coyle was a pragmatist. He had also been young once, with a young wife and understood the stress that came with juggling married life with police work. He also had a soft spot for Eckhart and knew, even though he had made a serious error and had shown extremely poor judgement in this matter, that he was actually a very good and bright detective. So he had decided to give him a second chance, particularly as the evidence that had been destroyed was backed-up elsewhere. Furthermore, the gift of the five hundred pounds could not be proved and Coyle could see no reason to take the matter further. Eckhart had learnt his lesson, he felt sure of it.
When Roper met up with Jake at The Dorchester he told him what had happened and gave Jake his word that the same thing would not happen again. Jake had shaken his hand, instinctively trusting Coyle and deferring to his judgement.
Now, several hours later, Roper saw his sergeant on the gurney and walked briskly over.
“You did good up there, Dave,” he said.
Eckhart looked up at him, clearly in a lot of pain, unable to speak because of the mask over his mouth. Tears welling in his eyes.
“Get well soon, detective.” Coyle added, patting Dave’s arm as he was loaded into the ambulance. Then, speaking to the paramedics, he said, “Take good care of him, lads. He’s one of the good guys.”
* * *
Jake and Lizzie were sitting on the back of another ambulance. Lizzie had a blanket over her shoulders and looked a little worse for wear but otherwise she was okay. Jake had his newly bandaged arm protectively around her as Coyle wandered over to them. “Want to have some fun?” He asked.
“Sure,” Lizzie said, “I haven’t had enough of that tonight yet.”
Roper smiled at her sarcasm. “Follow me then.” He replied.
The three of them walked over to the squad car in which Peter Bearing was still sitting, handcuffed in the back seat.
Coyle opened the door. “Tell them what you told me,” he said to Bearing.
“What?” Bearing said with disgust. “I have not said anything and nor will I until I speak with my solicitor. You have nothing on me Inspector. Not a thing. Just a suitcase that I know nothing about. I had no knowledge of what was happening here tonight and you have no proof to the contrary. As for the dead girl, well that cannot be pinned on me either as I suspect young Miss Barnes here will be able to verify. So whilst you may be enjoying your moment in the sun now, I can assure you by tomorrow morning you will be singing an entirely different song. I will be free and you will be looking for a job in a security firm. I have influential friends, Inspector, and I fully intend to make use of them to ensure that you never work for the police again.”
Coyle was smiling broadly as he said to Lizzie and Jake, “See, I told you it was going to be fun.”
They were now grinning too as Bearing spoke again. “I don’t know what you are all finding so funny, but I can assure you, you will not be so cheerful tomorrow.”
“Tell him,” Coyle said to Jake. “Let Mister Bearing in on the joke.”
Jake cleared his throat for dramatic effect, “Tell him about the evidence, you mean?”
“What evidence?” Bearing asked pompously, “You have no evidence.”
“Oh, but we do.” Jake said. “Lot’s of it. Tons. Enough to put you away for years.”
“What? Rubbish!” Bearing said, now looking slightly concerned.
“No. All true.” Jake said. “All that evidence that you thought Khan and Król destroyed well, guess what? There was another copy.”
“I don’t believe it. You’re lying.” Bearing spat.
“You think?” Jake said, reaching into the pocket of his jeans and pulling out the data stick. “It’s all on here. Everything. Every fact, every detail. Proof of corruption, of funding illegal wars, of trading and smuggling black-market diamonds and of fraud.”
Bearing was visibly shocked.
“Show him what else,” smiled Coyle.
“What else?” Said Bearing, still trying to comprehend the enormity of what he was hearing.
“You mean this?” Jake said, pulling up his jumper to reveal a small black recorder taped to his chest. “Every self incriminating word you and Bearing have said tonight, all recorded on tape for posterity. Proof of murder and blackmail, by your own boastful confession.”
Peter Bearing glared at him murderously.
“I think Aaron would be proud, don’t you, Lizzie?” Jake said.
Lizzie beamed. “I think he would be very proud indeed,” she said and kissed him on the cheek.
“I demand to speak to my solicitor,” Bearing squawked, “I will not say another word until I have spoken with him.”
“Speak no more,” Coyle said. “We don’t care. We’ve got everything we need right here. You’re going away for a very, very long time Peter and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”
Bearing gritted his teeth but said nothing. He knew Coyle was right.
Roper shut the car door and tapped the roof. “Okay,” he said to the officer behind the wheel, “Take him away, we’ve done with him now.”
* * *
As Jake, Lizzie and Coyle wandered back to the ambulance, Jake said, “What about me, Inspector - will I be prosecuted now? Will I have to go to prison?”
“I’m fairly sure you won’t, Jake.” Replied Coyle. “You’ve done well here - brought down a really bad guy and helped bring in an enormous consignment of illegal diamonds - admittedly a bit belatedly. You’ve also secured me the biggest coup of my career. So I think we can sort it so you get off with just a rap on the knuckles. You and Miss Barnes here have suffered enough.”
“Thank you Inspector,” said Jake.
“Yes, thank you,” Lizzie echoed. “But I do still have one question.”
“You do?” Said Coyle.
“Yes. It’s about Aaron. About how we left him in The Bahamas - how we’re probably now wanted for his murder and how–” suddenly Lizzie choked with emotion. “How we had to leave him there, with no funeral and no kind words spoken about him. He saved us, Inspector. He’s the reason why Peter Bearing is going to prison. The reason for the biggest coup of your career. It’s all thanks to Aaron.”
Jake put his arm round her as she broke down in tears, the grief of Aaron’s loss hitting her in a fresh wave now everything was over.
“Don’t worry,” Coyle said. “I will speak with the Bahamian authorities and explain everything. I’m sure it will be fine. And as for a funeral - well what’s to stop you having one now?”
Lizzie smiled, then leaned over and kissed Roper on the cheek. “Thank you, Inspector. For everything.”
Epilogue
Three years later. New Providence, The Bahamas.
Lizzie bent down and placed the flowers on the grave of the man who had saved her. Her brother, in everything other than birth.
It was another beautiful day. The sky a cloudless glorious blue as the sun beat down upon the aquamarine ocean below. The cemetary sat on a cliff overlooking the sea and offered a spectacular view of the Caribbean. The grave faced the ocean, positioned precisely to catch the first rays of the morning sun.
Lizzie walked up here at least once a month with her extremely active two year old who was always busy exploring and getting into mischief.
Soon there would be another little one, in just five short months - a girl this time, who they were going to call Ella, after her mother who had sadly passed away prior to Lizzie meeting Jake.
Lizzie placed a hand on her swollen tummy and was rewarded by a little kick and she smiled, delightedly.
She need not have worried three years ago about facing murder charges in The Bahamas. Roper Coyle had been as good as his word and had smoothed everything out. As it transpired, Lizzie and Jake would not have been held accountable for the murder anyway as a hair from Fabian Król’s beard was found embedded in the wound in Sumpter’s neck, which offered perfect DNA evidence and near conclusive proof that Król was the killer.
Lizzie had been allowed to give Aaron the funeral he deserved and she spoke eloquently at the service. Once again, the only representative of the Wallace family. Now she was the only one left. The only adult anyway. Her little boy and her unborn daughter would be Wallace’s by birth and heirs to the enormous fortune that their mother had inherited but they would bear a different surname to their grandfather.
“Come on, Aaron!” Lizzie called to her little boy who came scampering out from behind a grave, a great big grin on his face. “Let’s go and see Daddy. See how he’s getting on.”
* * *
Jake was busy finishing paintings for his second collection which was due to be shown in San Francisco in a few months time. Just about the time the baby was due in fact, but Jake would be at the birth, there was no way he was going to miss that.
The first exhibition of his work had been a tremendous success and Jake had sold every single painting. He had always enjoyed working with oil and canvas but years ago when he was struggling to make a living, the design side just somehow took over. But he had rediscovered it during his enforced exile and had continued with it since getting married to Lizzie who had encouraged him all the way.
Now he had commissions from all over the world and his work had very quickly become extremely sought after as Lizzie suspected it would from the very first time she saw it.
Jake was just putting the finishing touches to his latest work when he saw his wife and son coming across the lawn towards his studio.
He waved and Aaron came running to him. “Hello, boy!” He said, sweeping him up in his arms. “Have you been good for Mummy?”
Aaron nodded and Lizzie confirmed it with a kiss on his forehead then gave one to Jake too, on the lips, just for good measure.”
“You ready for your nap now, honey?” Lizzie asked her son and again he nodded.
“Uh-huh. I’m tired, Mummy.”
“I know, sweetie. Let’s go and get you settled then Mummy and Daddy can have a rest too.”
Jake gave his son a kiss then watched as Lizzie took him off to his bed for an afternoon nap. A quarter of an hour later, Lizzie and Jake met up in the light, spacious kitchen of their beautiful island home.
“He go off okay?” Jake asked.
“Yeah. He’s fast asleep.”
“Good. He’s had a busy day.”
“He sure has. Do you want some lunch, honey?” Lizzie asked.
“No, thanks.”
“A swim then - I’ve got the monitor I can put it out by the pool?”
“No.”
“What do you want to do then?” Lizzie looked at her husband and saw the wicked glint in his eye. “Oh, I see - that’s what you wanna do. Well come on then, Limey, before that son of yours wakes up,” she giggled.
Jake walked over, with fake machismo, and picked her up. “Right, Yank - let me show you again what us Englishmen can do!”
Lizzie laughed mischievously as Jake carried her off to their bedroom and placed her gently on their huge four-poster bed.
“Ravage me then, you beast - but make it quick, I’ve got to organise dinner in an hour or two!”
They made love, as they did on most afternoons, revelling in each others company, enjoying the simple pleasure of being together and of being blissfully happy.
* * *
In a wall safe, at the opposite end of the bedroom, hidden behind Lizzie’s favourite painting that Jake had done of her, sat an enormous diamond, the size of a large acorn. It was flawless, perfect in clarity, cut and colour. The value priceless. But it would never be sold, never traded. It was a blood diamond and the term was completely apt. Much blood had been spilled because of this and others like it. But Lizzie and Jake kept it as a reminder of what was once owed.
The debt had now been paid.
THE END
About The Author
Kris Lillyman is based in Northamptonshire, England and has worked as a freelance graphic designer and illustrator for over twenty-five years. He is married with two grown up children.
In addition to adult thrillers, he also writes and illustrates children’s books - to find out more about these, please visit:
www.krislillyman.com
Alternatively, search �
�Kris Lillyman’ in iTunes, Amazon, Barnes & Noble or most other online bookstores.
Other novels by Kris Lillyman
Thrillers
Bad Blood
World On Fire: Bad Blood Part II
Dance With The Devil
Perfect Day
Romantic Comedies
Jam Tops, The Fonz and The Pursuit of Cool
Read on for an exciting preview of Perfect Day - another of Kris Lillyman’s action packed books.
Part One:
Profit And Loss
Chapter One
Cambridge, England 1993
Sam had been awake for hours, unable to sleep from the excitement of it all, his stomach full of butterflies as he contemplated the day ahead.
Yet for the sake of his flat mate he had stayed in bed, quietly listening to the dawn chorus with the curtains closed, waiting for the sun to rise and cast its warm glow on the darkened room.
By 7.30am it was completely light outside; the start of what was sure to be another bright, beautiful July morning and even though Sam knew Vas would not thank him, he could wait no longer.
Jumping out of bed, he crossed over to the window and threw back the curtains to let the sunshine in. He then stepped two paces into the small kitchen area and clicked on the radio, turning the volume up loud to break the silence of the bedsit with a deafening blast of rock music.
“Jesus, turn it off!” Groaned Vasily, his flat mate, knocking a couple of empty beer cans onto the floor from the night stand between their two single beds as he pulled the blankets up around his ears. “It’s not even morning yet!”
By way of a pre-celebration, they had both been boozing the night before so Sam knew his friend might well be feeling a bit delicate even though his own head was surprisingly clear.
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