by Julie Thomas
‘It’ll be a closed court, the judge, the jury and the lawyers. He’ll never hear you. We can make sure everyone else has to leave, to ensure your safety.’
‘Remember, Lane already knows someone was in the house. Someone killed his thug,’ Harper reminded Vinnie.
Matthews frowned at his DS. ‘But how does he know? Marcus can’t be innocent and have his lawyer accuse you of anything. And he doesn’t know you ever left the cellar, not for sure; he doesn’t know you witnessed the murders. He may think his thug just surprised someone.’
Vinnie ran his hand through his hair and started to pace. ‘It’s a bloody big ask. I happen to like my life. And what about Anna? She wasn’t keen on me even coming to see you. And I didn’t tell her it was Marcus. She’ll freak! She might refuse to come, and I couldn’t lose her, not now.’
Matthews made another slight gesture of acknowledgement. ‘I understand all of that. Vinnie, the Lanes don’t make mistakes. We may never get a chance like this again. God knows how many lives you’ll save.’
Vinnie threw him a wry grin. ‘No pressure, then.’
‘Some years ago Marcus’s sister was killed in a drug raid in Manchester, shot by police –’
‘Millie? I remember her – she was very sweet.’
‘All the men who took part in that raid are dead, all killed in the line of duty. I know that Marcus Lane is responsible; I just can’t prove it. You’ll be avenging a great deal more than David Kelt.’
Peter Harper pointed up at him. ‘Think about what you both gain. A new life, wherever you want. What would you do? Open a wine store?’ he asked, as he smiled hopefully.
‘And think what you both lose if you take your chances with Lane. He might decide to punish you by hurting Anna,’ Matthews added.
Vinnie came back to the table and sat down heavily. It was starting to make sense. A germ of an idea was forming in the back of his brain, but he wasn’t about to let them see that. This was a game of poker, with terrifyingly high stakes and only one chance.
‘Can we take our dog? He’s just a puppy and he means the world to us. If we had children, you’d let us take them, presumably.’
Once again the two policemen glanced at each other.
It’s a routine, a well-practised routine, Vinnie realised. They’re the dogs and I’m the sheep, and they’re getting me ever closer to the damn holding pen. Like a lamb to the slaughter. Well, two can play at that.
‘Possibly,’ answered Harper.
‘But we sever contact? With friends, famil–’
‘When witness protection goes wrong it’s because people go back. They call family, revisit their old haunts, despite being told not to,’ Matthews said.
Vinnie held out his hands in a gesture that he hoped adequately expressed his exasperation. ‘Goes wrong? What exactly does that mean, Detective Chief Inspector?’
Matthews remained aloof. ‘You stay away, you stay out of contact, and you will stay safe. Simple.’
‘And how do we explain this sudden and permanent departure to our nearest and dearest?’
For the first time the DCI hesitated.
Aha, a chink.
‘Only those very close know the truth. In a case like this, everyone else, they think you’re dead. It’s the easiest way.’
Vinnie gave a low whistle. Dead? For real?
‘Thirty-six hours from the time of arrest, then we have to charge him and we need to hide you.’
‘I have one other problem.’
Matthews looked concerned. ‘Which is?’
‘Not a which, a who. My mother. She’s a widow and she lives in Sussex. Because it’s the Lanes, she’s also at risk. They know her. If anything went wrong and they identified me, their first call would be her cottage.’
‘What do you want to do about that?’
Vinnie hesitated. ‘I’m all she has. Could I take her, too?’
The two men looked at each other, and then Matthews gave him another small nod. ‘Yes. Under the circumstances.’
Time to set up the final demand.
‘What do I get compensation for?’ he asked.
Matthews used his fingers to count them off.
‘Your house – professional valuation, minus mortgage which will be paid off – your wholesale wine business, both market stalls, the website and your client list. Then you get a payment for your inconvenience and sacrifice, plus a payment to resettle. I think I can confidently say that, in this case, it will be a very generous payment.’
Vinnie nodded thoughtfully. ‘Do I really have a choice?’ he asked.
‘Your signed statement will be in Kelt’s missing person file. Norman Lane has a bloody long reach, and you have a named bullet.’ Matthews said bluntly.
‘Can I withdraw my statement?’
‘No.’
‘Christ, that’s a definite, then! And if I testify?’
‘The name in the file goes away. Every reference becomes Witness A, and all traces linking the statement and the testimony to you vanish.’
Realistically, this was his safest option.
‘That’s what I thought. Thank you for being honest.’
Vinnie picked up the empty cup and started to shred it. Time ticked away and no one in the room moved. Let them sweat; let them think he was still making up his mind.
Finally he swept the pieces of polystyrene onto the floor. ‘Okay, here’s the deal, gentlemen,’ he said quietly. ‘Anna and Mum have to agree, too. If either one says no, then we’ll take our chances with the Lanes. I’ll identify him and I’ll testify. But I want new identities and I want real money to relocate outside the UK.’
He paused, but Matthews still didn’t react.
‘I have some resources of my own and I want to buy a winery. In New Zealand. I don’t want to sell wine anymore, I want to make it.’
Harper looked at his senior officer, and Vinnie could see alarm and fascination in equal measure on the young man’s face. Matthews still scrutinised Vinnie.
Come on, you old bugger, you know you really want this guy and I’m your only chance. Give in a little. Vinnie tried not to look as though he was holding his breath.
Slowly Matthews leaned forward and extended his hand across the table.
‘Deal.’
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
NICKED
When his henchman didn’t answer his cell phone, and hadn’t returned home to his wife by 4 am, Marcus ordered a search of the scene. He should have had confirmation that the clean-up was complete, and the fact that he hadn’t bothered him. It was time to reinforce the rules, because people were getting sloppy. If the truth be known, he regretted killing Lenny – the man had been a loyal assassin for years – but the lesson had to be driven into Harry’s head: obey the rules or pay the price. If he had gone on a bender, Marcus would have to make an example of him, too.
Kelt’s house was empty and spotless, and the team was reporting in before leaving when Marcus asked whether they had checked the wine cellar.
‘Call yourself a clean-up crew? Check the damn cellar and call me back. When I get my hands on him, I’ll wring his bloody Yankee neck.’
‘Yes, boss.’
Five minutes later his phone rang again.
‘He’s dead, in the cellar.’
‘How?’
‘Stabbed in the stomach with something – no weapon here.’
Marcus scowled, but kept his temper on the phone. ‘Let me know when it’s clean. I want to see his body before you dump him.’
Marcus examined the wound closely. It was round and large, there were shards of glass in it and the edges were ragged. He sniffed his fingers and gave a tight smile.
‘Wine. He was stabbed with a smashed bottle of wine. Clever and opportunistic – Harry surprised someone in the wine cellar.’
Norman was watching from across the room. ‘Why did he go down there?’ he asked.
Marcus shrugged. ‘Presumably, to check out the collection. He was a drinker. A greedy bastard
.’
Norman pointed at the body. ‘What was anyone doing in the cellar? Kelt must have known someone was there.’
Marcus snapped around as a thought occurred to him, a thought he didn’t want to entertain. ‘If you were in the cellar, racking wine, whatever, and someone comes in – someone you’ve never seen before – would you smash a wine bottle and kill him?’
‘Maybe Harry attacked him and he killed in self-defence?’
Marcus shook his head. ‘No sign of a struggle, no bottles broken, no skin under Harry’s nails. He was surprised. That tells me that whoever killed him was waiting – and knew what had happened upstairs.’
Norman rose to his feet. ‘What exactly could he have seen?’ he asked, his voice ominously quiet.
Marcus shrugged again – he needed to be vigilant with his father. ‘Lenny’s gun jammed. I shot Kelt and then I shot Lenny. But there was no one else there. It was a closed room, a dining room. How could there be a witness?’
‘Maybe he heard and didn’t see. Any names?’
‘Of course not, they always refer to me as Boss. The bodies were in the van, the house was clean, Dad. There’s nothing to link it to us, nothing for them to find.’
‘And Kelt’s notebook?’
‘It’s in his office desk, at the club. The boys will turn the place over tomorrow. They’ll find it and then I’ll burn it. Problem solved.’
Norman turned his back on the scene and stared into the fireplace. A full moment passed. Marcus went to the body and touched the wound again. It was a deep, upward thrust, from under the ribcage right into the heart. Then a strong hand had pulled the bottle out.
‘Use the Carter passport. South America would be best. Go to Colombia and check out the drug supply lines and reinforce our –’
Marcus started to cross the room. ‘No, Dad please –’
‘Don’t contradict me!’ Norman roared.
This was banishment, loss of status, punishment. ‘But –’
‘You’re a hot-head. Time and again you put this operation at risk. I’ve tried to drum it into you: don’t pull the trigger, and then you can’t be held responsible for the consequences. Tom can take over in the interim. You weren’t in the country and nobody will find you. I want you on a plane tomorrow at the latest. And get rid of that body!’
Marcus was so furious he hardly knew what he had thrown into a suitcase. Sleep had evaded him, and he had sat up all night writing directions to Tom and the others, who would be clawing at each other to take his place, even temporarily. Why had he gone into the Kelt house? Why hadn’t he told them to bring the man in? There was this damn need to show off, to big-note, and this time it had been a stupid mistake. He had given that snivelling little manipulator a foot in the door, a hand on his power base. Well, he’d show Tom, he’d show his father, and all the rest – he’d make the most of this trip and set up some supply lines of his own. Time to start branching out.
A little after nine in the morning he sent the suitcase to the front door, donned his coat and gloves, and made his way downstairs. He lived by himself, with a handful of loyal and well-trained servants, not far from his parent’s home. He stood in the entrance hall and ran a meticulous eye over the rooms he could see.
His housekeeper came to the door. ‘Goodbye, Mr Lane. Have a good trip.’
He smiled stiffly. ‘I will. I’ll let you know when I have a return date.’
He nodded to her and walked out the door and down the steps to the waiting car. His chauffeur opened the rear door and he got in. The Independent lay folded on the seat, waiting to be read on the airport run. As they reached the main gate and swung out, a plain black car pulled across the road and stopped a few metres ahead of them.
Marcus leaned forward. ‘What the hell?’ he muttered.
Another black vehicle pulled in behind his car. Sudden fears swirled through Marcus’s startled brain: dangerous possibilities, such as kidnap, rival gangs, revenge and contract killings – suppressed nightmares from his younger days.
The passenger door of the front car opened and a familiar figure climbed out. He lumbered over as Marcus pressed a button and the window slid down. Thank God, no one important.
‘Morning, Mr Lane.’ DCI Matthews grinned down at him. The man was as dishevelled as ever, but ominously cheerful.
‘Detective Chief Inspector, what brings you here at this hour?’
‘On your way to the office, sir?’
Marcus gave a small nod. ‘Naturally.’
‘Would you step out of the car, please, sir?’
‘Why? I’m a bit pressed for time. Could you make an appointment to see –’
‘Step out of the car … sir.’ The voice was firmer this time.
Marcus felt an unease stirring in the pit of his stomach. There was another man, younger, also in a suit, standing between Matthews and the car, and Marcus didn’t like the smile on his face either.
Slowly and deliberately, Marcus opened the car door and got out. He was at least six inches taller than Matthews.
The DCI looked up at him and sighed. ‘I’ve waited a long time for this day, Mr Lane. I am arresting you for the murders of David Kelt and Lenny Kendell.’
He turned towards the other cop, who was walking towards them. ‘Cuff him, Harper, and read him his rights.’
CHAPTER NINETEEN
GOODBYES
As Mary Whitney-Ross lifted two bags of groceries from the open boot of her car, Vinnie’s Mercedes swung around the corner of the lane. She watched the car pull up and Vinnie and Anna sit for a moment before alighting, followed by Merlot.
‘Vin, Anna, darlings! What a lovely surprise. Hello there, Merlot.’
Vinnie was carrying a plastic carrier bag. ‘Hello, Mum. We’ve brought treats: wine and chocolates for our favourite lady.’
Mary put the groceries back into the boot, and they all hugged and kissed. She loved Vinnie’s bear hugs. Today it felt as though he wanted to hug the daylights out of her.
‘Hello, Mother,’ said Anna quietly.
Mary patted Merlot as he circled around her and eyed Vinnie with a concerned frown. ‘You look tired, both of you.’
Vinnie ran a hand through his curls. ‘A bit. Not sleeping. Here, let me take these. I could murder a cuppa.’
Anna threw him a sharp glance, and he grimaced at her.
For the first time ever Mary could sense tension. She hesitated, then took the bag and peered inside as he picked up the groceries.
‘Oh, doesn’t that look terribly wicked! You do spoil me. Will you stay for lunch?’
Vinnie took a huge breath and smiled. ‘Absolutely. We’ve got all day, and a big favour to ask.’
‘How intriguing,’ she said, as she held open the garden gate.
‘So you identify him and testify at his trial, and then you both leave.’
Mary sat on the sofa beside Vinnie and he held her hand.
‘Yes, that’s the deal.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it’s the right thing to do, and because, if I don’t, there’s a good chance they’ll find me anyway.’
‘How?’
‘They’re powerful and they just can.’
Mary looked at him closely. He returned her gaze without flinching, but he knew she could see the truth in his eyes.
‘It’s them, isn’t it?’ she asked softly.
For a long moment he didn’t answer.
‘Who?’ Anna demanded sharply.
Still neither of them spoke.
‘Excuse me, I am here and I do matter. Who is them?’
Vinnie shook his head, then turned and looked at his wife. When he saw her expression, he felt as though his heart would break in two.
‘Of course you matter. Remember I told you how my dad was an accountant and got caught up with a dodgy client? Well, that man was Tobias Lane, a major crime boss and the head of a London gang. When Dad went to see Tobias, I went too, and I played with his grandson, Marcus. Then when I was ten, Dad �
�� died … and the visits stopped.’
Anna was sitting on the edge of the chair, focusing very hard on what he was saying. He knew she would be hurt that he hadn’t told her this at the beginning, and if his mother hadn’t been in danger he probably would never have told her, but now he had no choice. Did he have any choice about anything anymore?
‘For reasons best left unsaid, the Lanes paid for Vinnie’s education,’ Mary added.
Anna shook her head, her bewilderment obvious. ‘What’s that got to do with …’ Her voice trailed off and she put her hand over her mouth. She had made the connection.
Vinnie nodded. ‘The man I saw murder David? It was Marcus. I recognised him as soon as he –’
‘Vinnie!’ Her reaction was a mixture of shock, anger and fear.
He went over to her, pulled her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her. ‘I know and I’m so sorry. I should have told you straightaway. I didn’t know what to think or say.’
She was on the verge of tears, but something held her back.
He hugged her tight and stroked her hair. ‘It’ll be okay, my love, we’ll start a new –’
Anna pulled back, her expression reflecting a sudden alarming thought. ‘What about Mother?’ Her voice was tight with stress.
‘Yep.’
Vinnie gave a small nod and led Anna over to the sofa. Mary sat watching them, tears in her eyes.
‘Mum,’ he said, as he sat down beside her, ‘I’m afraid you’re not safe here. If they make the connection at any time, for any reason, you’re the first place they’ll come.’
Mary shivered.
‘I only met Norman Lane at the time of your father’s death, but if he’s anything like Tobias, he’s a nasty piece of work.’
‘Anna thought we were coming here to leave Merlot with you until the DS can send him to us, but actually I have a far bigger plan. I need you both to listen very carefully.’
It was raining as they drove back to London. Anna sat very still, her face turned towards the passenger window. Vinnie stared straight ahead. The rhythmical swish of the wipers on the windscreen was almost like a lullaby. He was stressed and needed sleep badly, a dangerous combination.