The fat man smiled. ‘We’ve got a few questions we need to ask,’ he said. ‘The first one: where’s the man who came here yesterday?’
‘He couldn’t make it,’ said Tina. ‘He sent me instead. I’ve got the money. Where’s the passport and the driving licence?’
The fat man reached under a pile of paperwork and produced what looked like the goods, holding them up for her to see. ‘They’re here. But you know, I’ve just seen a photo of a wanted fugitive on TV, a Mr Ray Mason, and he looks a lot like the man here.’ He poked a stubby finger at the driving licence photo.
Tina swallowed. She hadn’t seen the news for a good few hours now. Obviously there’d been some sort of development and they had a new likeness for Ray. This was bad.
‘You. Zafir. You brought the man here yesterday. You vouched for him. It’s Ray Mason, isn’t it?’
Zafir shook his head firmly. ‘No. His name’s Bobby Fitzsimmons. I served time with him. I told you that yesterday.’
The fat man’s face screwed up in anger. ‘You’re lying. I know the evidence of my own eyes.’
He nodded to the bearded guy, who stepped forward and punched Zafir in the side of the head, knocking him into the wall. Zafir’s legs wobbled beneath him and he went down on one knee, clutching his head.
‘I’m not putting up with this,’ said Tina, who knew that the minute she showed weakness she was finished.
‘Shut up and listen to me,’ the fat man said. ‘I know that the man you represent is Ray Mason. I hear the police are after him, but so are other people. People with deep pockets. So I’m going to ask you once and once only. Where is he?’ As he spoke, he nodded to the gunman who came up behind Tina and pushed the end of his gun into the small of her back. He was so close she could smell his deodorant. ‘And if you don’t answer, my friend will put a bullet in you.’
Survival, in Tina’s experience, was all about the ability to make swift decisions. These men were amateurs. Dangerous ones definitely, but amateurs nonetheless, which meant that the gun was very unlikely to be loaded. And the fact was, Tina was angry. She’d already been treated like dirt by the two men who’d threatened her in her office, and she wasn’t going to put up with it a second time.
‘OK, OK,’ she said, raising her hands. ‘I know where he is.’ She took a step forward away from the gun, half turning as she did so, so that she could see everyone in the room, calculating that no one was going to shoot her while she was cooperating. ‘I’ll tell you, but get him to lower that gun. I don’t want it going off accidentally.’
The fat man made a gesture and the gunman lowered his weapon, giving Tina a cocky look.
‘Thank you,’ she said with a relieved sigh. Then, in one rapid movement, she swivelled round on her heel and sent a flying snap-kick straight into the gunman’s groin, hitting him with such force that he was slammed straight back into the door, his body bent double. The gun flew out of his hand, going off at the same time with a loud bang, which shocked everyone, including Tina.
Taking advantage of the confusion, she kicked the gun out of reach and charged at the bearded guy who’d punched Zafir, yanking the CS gel from her jacket and unloading it in his face before he could react.
She got him right in the eyes and he yelped in pain, covering them with his hands and presenting her with an easy target. She smashed an elbow into his jaw, knocking him sideways, then finished him off with a shin kick delivered to his knee.
He went down like a toppling oak, and she turned her attention to the fat man who was trying to get out from behind the desk, a shocked look on his face. Tina was across the floor in a second, grabbing him by his collar and tie and dragging him back across the desk towards her. ‘I’ll have those,’ she said, grabbing the passport and driving licence out of his hand, and shoving them in the back of her jeans.
She threw him back in his seat and swung round just in time to see the gunman stumble bow-legged across the floor, and grab the gun. He stood back up, still unsteady on his feet, and was in the process of turning the gun in her direction when there was a huge bang as the front door downstairs was kicked in, followed by angry shouts of ‘Armed police!’
For a split second the gunman froze. Unfortunately for him, Tina didn’t. She stepped over and punched him once in the face then turned round and saw the fat man yank open the side door to the stationery cupboard and run inside. Ray had given Tina the layout of the place so she knew that the cupboard had a false wall at the back, which led into the room where they did the counterfeiting.
Already she could hear the sound of heavy footfalls racing up the stairs. This was obviously an intelligence-led op, which meant they knew where to go. Leaving the two thugs injured on the floor, she grabbed the dazed Zafir and pulled him to his feet, then ran into the stationery cupboard after the fat man, just as the door was being opened from the other side. She slammed both hands into the fat man’s back with as much force as she could muster, sending him crashing through the door and straight into a desk, upending a monitor in the process, and knocking over the young man who’d opened the door.
Tina went straight for the window, ignoring the open mouths of the other two men in the room, and climbed out of it onto the fire escape. She raced down the steps and into a narrow alley with rubbish bags piled up against a high wall at the end, astonished that there didn’t appear to be any other officers around.
She looked over her shoulder and saw two of the men from the counterfeiting room running down the steps, followed by the fat man and Zafir, both of whom were moving a lot slower.
Tina didn’t think that Zafir was going to make it, but that wasn’t her problem so, keeping her headscarf pulled up so she couldn’t be recognized, and to keep out the stench of the rubbish, she trampled over the bags and did a running jump, getting her hands to the top of the wall and scrambling up and over it, straight into another alley. She took a sharp turn, clambered over another couple of walls, thankful that she’d spent so much time in the gym, and a couple of minutes later she was strolling along a different street, her gait casual, blending into the background in her headscarf and jacket, her breathing finally returning to normal.
That was when she burst out laughing. With shock? Relief? Enjoyment? Who could tell? A week ago she’d been showing photos of a flabby sixty-five-year-old man in flagrante with a rent boy forty years his junior to his frankly devastated wife, just another depressing case among many. And now in the last twenty-four hours she’d aided a fugitive, shot at an assassin, and beaten the crap out of a couple of thugs while only just avoiding the long arm of the law.
It was risky. It was foolish.
But by God it felt good.
24
I awoke with a start just like I’d done so often in prison, as if sleep was a weakness and now I had to be ready for whatever threat was waiting for me.
Except this time none was. I’d fallen asleep on Tina’s bed, more out of boredom than anything else. I looked at my watch. 6.15 p.m. Jesus, I must have been out for at least two hours. Hopefully Tina would have picked up the passport by now.
Then I heard it. Outside the window. A shuffling sound, then what might have been a grunt of exertion. I’d only left the window open a couple of inches to let in some fresh air, and hadn’t dared shut it in case someone was watching the house.
The noise stopped. Now all I could hear was the sound of birds singing in the trees. I slipped off the bed and crawled over to the window on my hands and knees. I didn’t think the police had come back. They’d already searched the house once and I’d been extremely careful to be as unobtrusive as possible all day today, staying upstairs, away from the windows, and only moving when necessary, and I couldn’t believe that anyone had spotted me.
I kept my head beneath the window but close to the gap, listening carefully. I thought I heard light footfalls coming from somewhere down below but then there was silence once again and I wasn’t sure whether or not I’d imagined it.
I knew from whe
n I’d spent time here before that Tina’s cottage was covered front and back by CCTV with a live feed on her phone and laptop. Her laptop was open on the bed. I’d been surfing the net on it earlier looking for any updates on my escape and the Kalaman murder the previous night, and I crawled over now and refreshed the home screen.
Which was when I saw it. A large photo of me at the top of the BBC news page. I’d got used to seeing myself on the news in the weeks after I’d been broken out, but those had been old pictures. This was a brand-new one revealing my supposedly disguised look, and I recognized myself instantly. It must have been taken by a CCTV camera the previous night just after the shooting, when I’d been crossing the road to get to the Mercedes I’d stolen from the householder I’d temporarily taken hostage. They’d named him too for the first time publicly.
My heart sank as I realized I’d just put Tina in real danger. If the counterfeiters had seen this photo they’d know exactly who I was. I cursed, and looked round for the burner phone, found it on the bedside table, and picked it up. There was a missed call from Tina’s number that had been made eight minutes earlier.
It was risky to call her back but I needed to know she was OK, and I felt a surge of relief as she picked up on the second ring. I started talking before she had a chance to say anything: ‘If you haven’t picked up the stuff yet, don’t. My new look’s plastered all over the news.’
She laughed down the phone, and I could tell she was outside somewhere. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘So I’ve found out.’
I felt my jaw tighten. ‘Are you OK?’
‘I’m fine. And I’ve got your passport and licence. I’ve still got your money too. The people you were buying from had worked out who you were. They wanted me to tell them your location, but naturally I was too honourable for that. They got rough, but I got rougher.’
This time it was me who laughed. ‘Yeah, I bet you did. Woe betide the man who tangles with you.’
‘I’ll tell you something else,’ she said. ‘The place was under police surveillance. They raided it while I was there. I got out. I don’t think your friend Zafir was so lucky.’
‘Well, that’ll do his credibility with the local criminal fraternity some good. He doesn’t know who you are so even if he talks to the cops, he won’t be able to implicate you. Was your disguise good enough that you won’t be recognized?’
‘Thankfully, yes. And I didn’t drive my own car there, so there’s nothing that’ll tie me to the scene. It was close though.’
I sighed. ‘I’m sorry, Tina. I really am.’
‘Look, I care about you. I don’t regret it.’
I tensed at her words, knowing that in three hours I’d be on my way, and would almost certainly never see her again. ‘Jesus, I’ll miss you. I really will.’
‘I’ll miss you too. But I definitely think it’s best for my sanity if you go. Listen, I’ll be back in an hour or so, depending on traffic. Is it all sorted your end?’
‘Yeah, the pick-up time’s 9.30.’
‘And he’s OK doing it?’
The man picking me up was Steve Brennan, the father of Sheridan and Cem Kalaman’s first victim. I’d been loath to call him but had done it because I could see no other way. But I needn’t have worried. Steve Brennan had been keen, almost desperate, to help.
‘Yeah, he’s fine,’ I said.
‘Good. I’ll see you before then to say goodbye.’
It might, I thought, be better if we didn’t see each other at all, since it was just a way of prolonging the agony, but in the end I knew I wouldn’t be able to face that. I had to hold her one more time. Then no more.
I put the phone back in my pocket and went back into the bedroom. The only sound outside the window was the singing of the birds but I still logged into Tina’s account and checked the feeds on her cameras at the front and back of the house, relieved to find that there was no sign of any intruders.
I closed the laptop and smiled. I was just getting jumpy.
25
Mary West had been napping on the sofa, which was something she did more and more these days, and she was making herself a cup of tea in an attempt to wake herself up when she sensed a presence in the cottage. She frowned, wondering if she was just getting senile, sleeping half the day and imagining people in her house. Bill would have told her that this was just part and parcel of getting old, but Bill had been gone ten years now, and she had no one here to tell her not to worry about everything.
But then she’d always been a worrier. Only now, at eighty-five, had she realized how much worry had wasted her time. Sometimes she’d take her grandchildren to one side and tell them that the one thing she’d learned, now that it was far too late, was that you had to embrace life, take risks, not allow it to get the better of you.
Mary thought she could almost hear her bones creaking as she picked up her tea and walked slowly out of the kitchen and into her living room. The light from the gradually setting sun was still strong through the open French windows, bathing everything in a rich golden glow.
Except Mary was sure she’d closed them.
A long shadow fell across her path, and she felt that presence again, knew now that there was someone in her home. Slowly she turned, a shiver of shock running up her spine.
A figure all in black stood there, a mask covering his face, a gun in his hand.
Mary let out a small, terrified gasp and the man put a finger to his lips.
‘Don’t say a word, and I promise you won’t be hurt. You just need to do me a little favour, that’s all.’
And that was when Mary realized it wasn’t a man at all. It was a woman. And for some reason this scared her even more.
Tina was back in her own car, still parked up in the same back street where she’d left it earlier, removing her makeup and transforming herself back into Tina Boyd, when she got a call on her regular phone.
She thought about leaving it. She was in a hurry, and wanted to find somewhere to dump the disguise, since it was way too risky to be driving around with all this gear in her car after what had just happened. But then she saw who the caller was, and she picked up immediately.
‘Mrs West? Are you OK?’
‘No, love,’ said Mrs West. ‘I’m afraid I’m not feeling too well. I’m in bed and I need some things. Are you at home?’
‘I’m not, but I can be back in an hour. Are the Morrises not about?’
There was a long pause.
‘Mrs West?’
‘I tried them, love, and they’re not there.’
Mrs West had been her neighbour for almost ten years now, and she’d always been good to Tina, and consequently Tina was very protective of her. ‘Don’t you worry,’ she said, ‘I’ll sort it out. What do you need?’
‘Just some milk and some sugar.’
‘OK, I’ll buy them on the way home and bring them straight over.’
There was another pause. ‘Thank you, love.’
Tina frowned. ‘Are you sure you’re OK, Mrs West? You don’t sound too good.’
But she was already speaking into a dead phone.
26
‘You missed all the drama,’ said DS Jane Tutill of Hounslow CID.
‘I know, I got stuck in traffic,’ said Bolt, looking at the caved-in door of the curry house then back at Tutill, who was probably no more than early thirties and thus a couple of decades younger than him. When the police started looking too young to be police then it was definitely time to retire, and in truth, that day couldn’t come fast enough for Bolt.
‘What happened?’ he asked.
‘Well, we responded to the NCA’s request for help, and had a surveillance team set up on this premises at …’ She consulted her notes. ‘17.24. No one came in or out until at 17.45 the team saw a male IC4 in his thirties, accompanied by a female IC4, age unknown, arrive and stop outside. The male made a call and they were let inside. Then approximately five minutes later, one of the team heard what sounded like a gunshot coming from inside
the building. I was in another car and I made the decision to stage an entry in case there was threat to, or loss of, life. We got up there and found two IC4 males with superficial injuries inside a room that was being used as an office. There was also a loaded revolver on the floor which had just been fired, although it doesn’t look like anyone was hurt. We arrested three more IC4 males out the back as they were trying to escape, but there was no sign of the IC4 female.’
‘Anything else?’
‘One of the men we arrested told us that he was the one who gave the initial intelligence tip that Mason was expected this evening to get the passport and driving licence.’
‘Where’s he now?’
‘Down at Hounslow nick with the others, although I did manage to get a quick word with him before he went. He said that Mason came in there yesterday morning with a shaved head and a beard, and had his photo taken. He also told me that he was the one who produced the items for Mason, and he was told that he had to have them ready by six o’clock. Apparently, he finished them this afternoon and gave them to his boss two hours ago. The boss is one of those we arrested, but right now he’s not talking. None of them are. The thing is, though, there’s no sign of the passport or the driving licence in there, and we’ve already searched the place twice. And none of the suspects have got them either.’
‘Did the informant say why the shot was fired?’
She shook her head. ‘He didn’t even hear it. He and his colleagues were working in another room, which is soundproofed, and connected by a false wall. The first he knew anything was going on was when his boss, the female and another male came running through. They all went out the fire escape. I guess the female was the fastest, and it’s why she got away.’ She paused. ‘Do you think she was here to pick up Mason’s fake ID?’
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