The Last 10 Seconds: A Novel

by Simon Kernick

  She gave him a look of utter contempt. ‘Go on then.’

  ‘I don’t like your attitude, Miss Boyd.’

  ‘I couldn’t give a shit, Mr Mendelson.’

  The DCS’s face grew so red she thought he might explode. He was literally shaking with anger. Finally, he seemed to bring himself under control. ‘You’re finished,’ he said at last, a thin smile forming on his lips. ‘I’ll make sure of it.’

  ‘Fuck you,’ she answered, but her words were drowned out by the siren from another ambulance as it left the building site, and anyway, Mendelson had already turned on his heel and was marching away.

  She watched him go, then stubbed the cigarette underfoot and, leaving the hire car where it was, walked off in the opposite direction without looking back, feeling a strange yet exhilarating sense of freedom.

  Part Three

  NINE DAYS LATER

  Fifty-seven

  Tina Boyd was surprised to see how healthy Sean Egan looked, given all he’d been through. He was propped up in his bed reading a book when she knocked and walked into his private hospital room, carrying a box of chocolates and a bottle of decent Scotch she’d picked up en route. She’d wanted to come before but for the first week of his stay he’d been effectively in police custody, and under armed guard, with visits strictly limited.

  He grinned when he saw her and put down the book. ‘So, to what do I owe this pleasure?’

  ‘I came to say thanks for saving my life,’ she said, putting the chocolates and booze on his bedside table, and taking a seat.

  ‘Tommy wasn’t much of a shot. I think you’d have been OK.’

  ‘He managed to hit you twice.’

  ‘He just got lucky,’ he said, giving her a weary smile. ‘Anyway, if you hadn’t turned up, I’d have bled to death, so I guess we’re quits. Maybe we should share the bottle.’

  Tina had deliberately chosen Scotch because she disliked it. ‘No, you keep it for when you’re feeling better.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ he said, ‘but at least tell me how you ended up in that building at eight o’clock on a Saturday morning. I’ve been answering a lot of questions these past few days, but no one’s been giving me any information.’

  ‘It’s a long story.’

  ‘Long stories are what keep me going in this place.’

  So she told him everything.

  ‘Jesus,’ he said when she’d finished. ‘After all you did, and they end up suspending you?’

  ‘I didn’t follow the rules, and they don’t like that these days.’

  He laughed. ‘I know the feeling. And if it’s any consolation, I’ve been suspended as well. But at the moment I’m just thankful I haven’t been charged with anything.’

  ‘I think there’d have been a public outcry if they’d charged you with anything. You’ve read the papers. You must have seen the coverage you’ve been getting. The Sun’s even nicknamed you Robocop.’

  Not surprisingly, there’d been a media frenzy over the kid napping of Andrew Kent and the revelations surrounding Anthony Gore and his connection to it, and the story had rarely been off the front pages. With the stock of mainstream politicians at one of its lowest ebbs in history thanks to the ongoing expenses scandal, the allegations of murder weren’t considered as unbelievable as they might otherwise have been. In fact, they were treated as still more evidence of the corrupt nature of the ruling classes, who it now seemed were capable of almost anything.

  Most people – if you believed the tabloid headlines, at least – thought that both Andrew Kent and Anthony Gore had got what they deserved, and although the full extent of Gore’s involvement wasn’t yet public knowledge, there was a groundswell of support for Sean Egan. In tabloid eyes, he was the brave undercover cop, eager to avenge the long-ago murder of his brother, whose only crime was getting in too deep, but who’d redeemed himself by ridding the world of a sadistic killer.

  Nobody, therefore, wanted to be the person to charge him with anything, even though the CPS could probably have created a file against him longer than the Bible.

  ‘Did they ever find the missing footage that Kent took of Gore killing Roisín O’Neill?’ he asked.

  Tina shook her head. ‘It sounds like Kent only kept the one copy, and that was the one that was destroyed.’

  ‘And you think Tommy killed her father as well?’

  ‘He must have done. The car he was using, the one that led me to him and you, was filmed in Roisín’s father’s cul-de-sac on the night he died. It’s too much of a coincidence for it not to be related.’

  ‘But why kill him? Particularly then.’

  It was a question that Tina had been thinking about a lot. ‘Gore must have been concerned that Roisín had told her father about their relationship. That wasn’t a problem while her murder was being treated as one of the Night Creeper’s. But when Kent was arrested in possession of information that implicated Gore in her murder, they must have decided it was best to get her father out of the way.’ She shrugged. ‘I think it was just a case of damage limitation.’

  Egan sighed. ‘Jesus. He didn’t care who he killed, did he? But I still don’t understand who was organizing all this. Tommy said he was working for someone called Alpha.’

  ‘We think he was referring to Paul Wise, a gangster and thug based out of Northern Cyprus. He initiated everything on behalf of Anthony Gore – not that he got anywhere near the action himself. He used Tommy and Wolfe’s gang for that.’

  A number of newspapers had mentioned the possibility of a shadowy businessman linked to Anthony Gore who may have helped him in his cover-up, but no one had dared accuse Wise by name, because the evidence against him was still so scant. Tina knew he’d be feeling the heat of his involvement, now that things had blown up so spectacularly, but it wasn’t enough for her. She still wanted justice.

  Egan frowned. ‘And what’s going to happen to him? Is he going to get off scot-free?’

  ‘No,’ said Tina firmly. ‘Paul Wise’s days are numbered, and I’ve got the evidence that’s going to make sure of that. I taped our interview with Anthony Gore, the one in which he confesses his role in the whole thing, and it implicates Wise completely.’

  ‘I didn’t read anything about that in the papers.’

  ‘The papers don’t know about it. Yet. Neither do any of my colleagues. I wanted to make sure it didn’t conveniently disappear. Paul Wise has got contacts everywhere, and if anyone’s capable of getting rid of evidence, he is.’

  ‘Would it be admissible in court, with Anthony Gore dead?’

  Tina shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but I’ve got a meeting with a journalist from the Guardian tomorrow – someone I’ve checked out, who’s squeaky clean – and I’m going to give him the tape on the proviso he publishes it. If that happens, I think the CPS, the police, the government, all of them, will have no choice but to push to get Wise back from Cyprus to face charges.’

  ‘Won’t he sue?’

  ‘On what grounds? It’s a taped confession from a government minister. He could sue Gore’s estate, I suppose, but I can’t see that he’ll take on the paper. My journalist source doesn’t seem too worried about it anyway.’

  Egan gave her an admiring look. ‘Jesus, you don’t mess around, do you? I’m glad I’m not on the wrong side of you.’

  ‘Paul Wise has done me a lot of harm over the years. I just hope I get a chance to tell him face to face about my part in his downfall.’

  ‘I get the feeling you will.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ she said, and stood up. ‘I’d better get going. Enjoy the booze and the choccies.’

  There was an awkward moment when Tina wasn’t sure whether she should shake his hand, peck his cheek, or simply keep a reserved distance. She finally settled for the peck on the cheek, but wasn’t entirely surprised when one of his arms encircled her waist.

  ‘Will I see you again, Tina Boyd?’ he whispered in her ear.

  Egan was a good-looking guy, the kind it would be far too
easy to fall for. And perhaps she would have done, too, but her attention was still focused on another man.

  ‘You never know,’ she answered, and gently moved away.

  When she was back outside the hospital, she lit a cigarette and walked down Gower Street in the direction of Tottenham Court Road. The sun was shining and it was a beautiful day. In truth, she didn’t know if what she was about to do with Gore’s confession tape would finally bring Wise down, and releasing it to the media when she’d previously denied knowledge of its existence would certainly scupper any chances of her resuming her career, but even so, she was smiling as she went down the steps into Tottenham Court Road tube station.

  Because she knew that she was finally becoming a real thorn in Wise’s side.

  Fifty-eight

  It was evening and I was lying in my hospital bed feeling sick, having eaten all the chocolates Tina Boyd brought me, and wondering if she’d say yes if I asked her out for a date, when there was a knock on the door. A second later, the bald, cadaverous figure of Captain Bob appeared. He was dressed in a V-neck angora sweater and sensible slacks, as if he’d just come back from a game of golf, which he probably had.

  ‘My God, you look different,’ he said, approaching the bed and putting out a bony hand, which I shook reluctantly. ‘What have you done to your hair?’

  The last time I’d seen him it was short and light brown, but for the Wolfe infiltration I’d dyed it black, grown it long, and added a pair of mutton-chop sideburns which if they’d been a couple of inches longer would have constituted an Amish beard. ‘A man should always be adventurous with his hair, although I guess you’ve probably forgotten that. Anyway, thanks for coming to check up on me, sir. I’ve only been here nine days.’

  ‘I’ve been trying to contain the fall-out from your shenanigans,’ he answered gruffly, taking a seat. I noticed that he hadn’t brought a gift, or even a card, but then Captain Bob had never been known for his generosity of spirit. ‘What were you thinking about, Sean?’ he asked, his cut-glass accent heavy with exasperation.

  ‘You know what I was thinking about. I was trying to get justice for my brother.’

  ‘Revenge, you mean, because there was nothing just about what you did.’

  ‘If you’ve come here to lecture me, sir, then you’re wasting your breath.’

  ‘I haven’t. I came here to see how you were. And to tell you that I’ve spoken up on your behalf to the officers investigating this sorry affair. I’m hopeful that they’re not going to press charges, but I have to be honest, Sean. Your career’s over.’

  ‘I gathered that.’ I’d always known that this was inevitable, yet I was still taken aback by the finality of his announcement.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, trying hard to sound like he meant it. ‘There’s something else as well. I’ve been asked to come here to request your resignation from the force. We’ll accept it on the grounds of stress, and you’ll keep your full pension rights. I can promise you it’ll be a lot easier that way.’ His tone was polite, sympathetic even, but there was no mistaking the threat behind the words. They wanted rid of me, and would do whatever it took.

  ‘What’s the alternative?’

  ‘That it could get messy.’

  Sections of the media might have been portraying me as a hero, but I didn’t think that would stop the bosses in their quest. I was an embarrassment, and I had to go. I could have fought on, but the last few weeks had taken their toll on me, and I’d done what I’d set out to do. Now was the time to withdraw from the battlefield.

  ‘OK then,’ I said. ‘I resign, if that’s what you want.’

  ‘I don’t want,’ he answered, ‘but you’ve left us with no choice. You kidnapped a high-profile suspect from police custody, and killed him before he’d even got anywhere near a court.’

  ‘I also helped break open a major case that led to the unmasking of a corrupt politician,’ I snapped back, stung by his criticism. ‘And there’s more to come as well. Paul Wise, the gangster who was behind all this, is going to get exposed as well.’

  Captain Bob narrowed his eyes. ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Tina Boyd’s got a tape of Anthony Gore’s confession in which he mentions Wise.’

  As soon as I said this, I regretted it. The last person I needed to tell was an establishment man like Captain Bob.

  ‘I thought there was no tape,’ he said. ‘That’s what she told her boss.’

  I shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Maybe I got it wrong.’

  He gave me a look that said he didn’t believe that for one minute, but chose not to pursue it further. Instead, after a few seconds of tense silence, he got to his feet and said he had to go. ‘You were an excellent operative, Sean, and I enjoyed working with you. You’ll be missed, but you’re doing the right thing.’ He gave my hand a cursory shake, wished me luck, then hurried out of the room as if he was being pursued by a bad smell.

  I wondered if I’d now landed Tina in a big pile of trouble. I had little doubt that he’d report what he’d found out to his superiors, and that they’d try to get her to hand over the footage. I needed to let her know that she might be getting a visit so that she could at least take appropriate action. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a number for her.

  I was still very tired, and, despite feeling guilty about not trying to make contact, I drifted off into a restless sleep.

  Something jolted me awake. Something that was bothering me. But I couldn’t put my finger on what it was.

  The digital clock on the wall said it was 9.53 p.m., and I slowly clambered out of bed. I was feeling a lot better, and the consensus among the doctors was that I was making a remarkable recovery. My right leg felt very stiff where I’d taken the bullet, but I could walk on it. I put on my dressing gown, grabbed my crutches, and went hunting for a payphone. I owed Tina. She’d done as much to save my life as I had hers. If she hadn’t turned up at the warehouse when she did, there was no doubt about it, I would have bled to death.

  Halfway down the corridor, I stopped.

  Dead.

  I put a hand against the wall to steady myself, because I suddenly remembered something that Tommy had said in the warehouse during those few minutes I’d questioned him at gunpoint.

  And in a sudden rush, I realized what it was that was bothering me.

  And how much danger Tina Boyd was now in.

  Fifty-nine

  Alpha looked down at the Glock 34, with nine-millimetre silencer attached, in his hand. It was a wicked-looking thing that had been supplied to him three years earlier for use in case of emergencies, and as far as he was aware it was untraceable. The current situation was definitely an emergency, but Alpha still had no desire to use the gun. He wasn’t a killer, and never had been. He’d always considered his role within Paul Wise’s secretive organization to be nothing more than an information resource, helping Wise to run his business more smoothly by providing details of police operations against the various illegal arms of his business. But increasingly he was being called upon to perform far more extreme tasks, including the mutilation of a dead woman with a hammer in order to cover up the crime of Wise’s most senior establishment contact.

  And now this.

  Alpha’s instructions, delivered by Wise himself in his phone call, were simple and uncompromising. Get the tape that Tina Boyd made of Anthony Gore’s confession. Make sure there were no further copies. And then kill her. Wise’s tone had been angry and vindictive when he gave this last instruction. It seemed her actions had clearly riled him, as was proved by the price he was willing to pay for her death: a hundred and fifty thousand pounds, paid into Alpha’s Panamanian bank account within the hour.

  Alpha knew he had no choice. He’d wanted to get out of Wise’s employ for a long time now, but it didn’t work like that. Wise had made it known to him that he had enough evidence of Alpha’s involvement in his operations to ruin him if he so chose.

  The job had to be done, and it had to be done now.


  Taking a deep breath, Robin Samuel-Smith, better known as Captain Bob to his colleagues in CO10, removed the silencer from the Glock, placed both items in the concealed shoulder holster beneath his raincoat, and walked out of the Pimlico apartment that Paul Wise’s blood money had done so much to pay for.

  Sixty

  I phoned my old colleague at Holborn nick, Simon Tilley, from one of a bank of payphones near the hospital reception, and got him to give me Tina’s address and phone numbers. Tilley had already visited me twice in hospital, so thankfully he didn’t want to talk about my experiences, having heard it all already, but he did seem very interested in knowing why I wanted to contact Tina, assuming it was for romantic reasons. I almost told him about my fears, but I had the feeling he’d think I was certifiable. Instead, I cut him short, telling him I’d call him back in the next couple of days.

  I still wasn’t entirely sure myself about my theory. It seemed inconceivable that Captain Bob, the man who’d been my boss for getting on for ten years, could be Alpha, the man who’d set this whole thing up.

  Yet it fitted. Tina thought that Alpha was Paul Wise, but he couldn’t be. It had to be someone who knew enough about the police investigation into the Night Creeper to be able to make Roisín O’Neill’s murder look like his work. Although Bob wasn’t a part of the inquiry, he was senior enough to have been privy to the details if he’d chosen to look.

  I’d always known that Captain Bob had good contacts in the London underworld. After all, he’d played a major part in getting the contract Jason Slade had taken out on me lifted. And then there was Tommy’s shock in the warehouse when I told him I was an undercover cop. ‘No way,’ he’d said. ‘I had you checked out. Thoroughly.’

  Was that because the person checking me out wasn’t Wolfe at all, or Haddock, but a senior handler of undercover officers in CO10, someone whose word could be relied upon – someone like Captain Bob?