by Val McDermid
She’d pushed her paperwork to one side and drawn up a brief report of her reasons for suspecting Wilhelm Albert Mann. Of course, without being able to attach Tony’s name to the theory, it didn’t have the advantage of the weight of expertise, but she considered she’d done a good job of making it sound convincing. She’d concluded with the suggestion that, in the absence of any hard evidence, Mann should be put under surveillance.
Then she’d gone in search of Maartens, eventually tracking him down in the bar across the street where he’d stopped for a quick beer on his way home. “I want to send this to the cops in Köln,” she’d said, thrusting it under his nose.
He’d read it carefully, sipping at his Oranjeboom with an expression of vague distrust. “Nice work, Marijke,” he said when he got to the end of it. “I’m impressed with your knowledge of nautical knots.”
“The internet,” she said. “Great research tool. What do you think? Should I send it to them, or is it going to make me look like a crazy woman running on intuition rather than evidence?”
Maartens spluttered a mouthful of beer over his hand. “Marijke, if the guys in Köln are looking at as little as we are, they’re going to give you the keys to the city. If nothing else, it gives them something to do that feels like action. Sure, it might just be coincidence, but what you’re saying looks a lot like sense to me. It’s not as if this guy has any legitimate professional reason for being here in Leiden, since we don’t have commercial traffic on our canals. If this landed on my desk tonight, I’d have a team on the bugger by midnight. And I’d keep them on him till either he made a move or somebody else got killed at the other end of the country. Come on, let me buy you a drink to celebrate the first bit of forward movement we’ve had since de Groot got killed.”
She shook her head. “Thanks, boss, but I’ll take one in the pump for later. I want to get this on the fax to Köln right away.”
Hartmut Karpf in Köln hadn’t wasted any time. Within fifteen minutes of her sending the fax, he’d called her back. “This is really interesting material,” he’d said enthusiastically. “Look, I want to move on this fast. But it’s going to take a lot of manpower to do it properly. Is there any chance that you can come to Köln tomorrow? It would help me to convince my boss that it’s worth doing if you were here to make the case in person.”
“I need to clear it with my commander, but I don’t think he’ll have any objection. Let me get back to you on that, OK?”
Half an hour later, she had made the arrangements. She needed to be in Köln by noon the following day. Which offered some interesting possibilities. Marijke checked her watch. Before she made any decisions, she had to check out flights.
It was turning into a very good day indeed. If only Tony would call, then it could get close to perfect.
The lane that ran past Matic’s farm was as black as an underground cavern. High hedges cut out any light from the farmhouse, and cloud obscured the thin sliver of the crescent moon. It was hard to believe they were only a couple of miles from the edge of town, so still and dark was the spring evening. Petra peered at a green and black world through night-vision goggles, courtesy of the Special Ops commander. She felt as if she were underwater, men swimming in and out of her field of sight like strange aquatic creatures, their faces obscured with goggles and masks to protect against the smoke and tear gas they’d be using when they stormed the place.
The laconic tough guys who had been strutting their stuff all afternoon, crowding out her office, lolling in chairs and sprawling on the floor, had been transformed as night had fallen. They’d become a disciplined team, economic of movement and stealthy as shades. As soon as it had grown dark, a couple of them had flitted across the yard, silently planting microphones in the walls of the farmhouse and diverting the phone line via their own communications system. No incoming calls would be able to get through, and if Matic or his wife tried to make a call, all they would hear would be an unanswered ringing tone.
Now the team had the farmhouse encircled. When the word was given, they would rush the place, breaking the door down with a hydraulic ram. Petra had the plan off by heart. First the smoke, then the tear gas, then the men would pour in. The primary objective was to secure the child, the secondary objective to capture Arkady Matic and his wife. Petra was to wait in the lane with the commander of the unit, only approaching once those objectives had been secured.
The commander was standing over his communications specialist. “Where are we up to?” he asked.
“They’re talking in the kitchen. One adult male, one adult female. The child is there too. The woman just told her to sit at the table. They’re about to eat dinner.”
“Good. We’ll wait till they’re sitting down, then we’ll move in.” He turned to Petra. “We want the minimum of fuss, so we’ll go in when they’re occupied with their food.”
She nodded agreement. “The last thing we want is a hostage situation.”
“Quite,” he said briskly, the fingers of one hand beating a tattoo against his thigh. “God, I hate the waiting game.”
They stood in tense silence for a long couple of minutes, then the comms specialist gave the thumbs-up sign. “The woman’s dishing up dinner…She’s sitting down and joining them. Yes, they’re all there.”
The commander grabbed his radio. “This is K-one to all units. Move in. Repeat, move in.” He gestured to Petra to follow him and they jogged the twenty yards to the farm gate. Moving shadows flickered around the house, caught in the soft light from curtained windows. Suddenly the night was split open by the crash of the ram against the solid wooden door, and cries of, “Armed police, freeze!” filled the air.
The crunch of splintering wood reached them on the faint night breeze, then the soft crump of smoke grenades and the rattle of gas canisters against a hard surface. Muffled shouts followed, then the sound that Petra had dreaded. The boom of a single gunshot rang out. Horrified, she turned to the commander.
“Shotgun,” he said laconically.
There followed the sudden chatter of automatic fire. Then silence. “What’s going on?” Petra cried.
“I’d guess the farmer got a shot off before one of ours took him down. Don’t worry, it’s not turning into a fire fight.” His radio crackled and he raised it to his ear. Petra couldn’t distinguish the words, only an excited jabber. “I’ll be right there,” he said. He clapped her on the shoulder. “Come on, it’s all over. They’ve got the girl.”
She followed him up the track. Tendrils of smoke drifted out of the open door, which sagged from a single hinge. As they reached the farmhouse, one of the Special Ops men walked out with a wailing child in his arms. Petra ran up and took his burden from him. “It’s all right, Tanja,” she said, stroking the girl’s lank, unwashed hair. “I’m taking you back to your mum.”
The commander was nowhere in sight. “What happened?” Petra asked the officer who had brought Tanja out.
“Stupid bastard went for his shotgun,” he said. “We’ve got one guy with flesh wounds to the arm and thigh. Nothing serious, I don’t think.”
“What about Matic?” she asked, rocking the whimpering Tanja in her arms.
The officer made the traditional throat-cutting gesture. “We had no choice. It’s a bugger, though. The come-back we get from something like this, you’d think we went around shooting people for the hell of it.”
“You don’t have any option when somebody’s pointing a gun at you,” Petra agreed. “Look, I want to get Tanja out of here. Will you tell your boss I’ve gone? We’ll need to have a proper debrief, but that can wait for morning.”
He nodded. “I’ll pass it on.”
Petra walked away from the farm, wishing her car was parked closer. Tanja was growing heavier with every step, and she didn’t know if she could carry her all the way. What a day, she thought, plodding onwards. She wondered momentarily how Carol was coping. She presumed there would be a report of yesterday’s meeting with Radecki waiting in her mailbox,
but there was no way she was going to get to that for the next couple of hours. She had to get Tanja off to the safe house and make sure all the security was in place. Tomorrow, she would organize the first of a series of interviews with Marlene that she hoped would give them enough to make sure Radecki stood trial in Germany, not in liberal Holland.
There was so much to be done. But it would all be worth it when she sat in court and watched Radecki go down for a very long time. She grinned in spite of her aching back. God, she loved this job.
Carol was finally managing to enjoy herself. Marijke had kept her posted about everyone else’s activities, and she’d been frustrated at her inability to lend a hand. But there was no point in fretting, she scolded herself. So she’d taken a long luxurious bath, which had left her feeling more relaxed than she had since she first arrived in Berlin. She’d discovered that her apartment TV had a cable channel showing English films in the evenings, and she was sprawled on the sofa in Caroline Jackson’s silk kimono, savouring the black humour of Shallow Grave and a bottle of Sancerre.
The film had just reached the point where Christopher Ecclestone was holed up in the loft with the money when the entry-phone buzzed. Surprised, she hit the mute button, rolled languidly to her feet and went through to the hallway. The only person it was likely to be was Radecki, she thought. She wasn’t in the mood for his company, nor was she dressed for it, but she could probably put him off.
Carol picked up the handset. “Who is it?”
“It’s me, Tadeusz. Can I come up?”
“I’m in the middle of some work, Tadzio. Can’t we meet tomorrow?”
“I really need to see you. I can’t stay long, I have to be at the TV studios in an hour.”
She could manage an hour, she thought, pressing the door-release button and hurrying through to the bedroom. A silk kimono was far too suggestive for Radecki right now, she knew. She pulled on some loose linen trousers, hastily fastened her bra and grabbed a shirt, then he was knocking at her door. She dragged the shirt over her head as she walked back into the hall and let him in.
He gave her no time to greet him, simply hauling her into his arms and kissing her hard and fierce on the mouth. He moved into the apartment, taking her with him, kicking the door shut as they went. Carol managed to free her lips from his, rearing back and laughing nervously. “Hey, whoa! This is all a bit sudden,” she said.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he said. There was an intensity to his voice that she had never heard before. “I know you wanted time to think, but this is driving me crazy. I want you so bad, I can’t eat, I can’t sleep.” His hands were all over her, strong and urgent, giving her no opportunity to break free. He nuzzled her neck, nibbling at her ear with sharp little bites.
Carol started to feel nervous. This wasn’t in her mental script of how things would go. She had been in control, but now she felt the situation running away from her. “Tadzio, wait,” she said plaintively.
“Why?” he demanded. “Last night, you wanted me as much as I wanted you. I know, I felt it. Why do we need to wait?”
“I’m not ready for this,” she said, trying to slip out of his embrace. But he was too strong, his encircling arms too tight around her.
“You know you are,” he said, his voice softer now. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” He raised a hand to the back of her neck, his long fingers caressing the soft skin there.
In spite of herself, Carol began to feel the sheer animal pleasure of his body against hers. There was a thrill in the power of his desire for her, no escaping it. But there was no way she could afford to yield. She was a cop, she reminded herself. Everything would be wasted if she let him seduce her. Besides, she wasn’t about to do anything she would be ashamed of telling Tony. “I’m not scared,” she said. “I’m just not sure.”
“I’ll make you sure,” he said, backing her into the living room and running both hands down her back to her buttocks.
Carol saw her chance and managed to slip out from under his grasp. She took a couple of swift steps away from him. “This is too sudden,” she protested. Tadeusz stared wildly at her, his hair awry. God, he’s gorgeous. The very thought felt like treachery.
“Please, Caroline,” he said, his voice cracking. “I know you want me. We were both hot for each other last night. But if you won’t trust yourself to make love with me when you want to, why should I believe you’re someone I can trust in business? What’s the big deal? We’re both adults. We want to fuck each other’s brains out. It’s not like either of us has anybody else, is it? There’s no question of infidelity. Just two people going crazy with desire.”
What was the right answer? Carol struggled to find something that would make sense to him, that would keep the deal alive while preserving her position. “I can’t explain,” she said. “I just need some time, that’s all.” He took a step towards her and she retreated. “Please, Tadzio,” she added, trying for her most appealing smile.
He closed in on her, and suddenly she had nowhere left to go. Backed up against the wall, she was in his arms again. Again he was kissing her, the weight of his body keeping her pinned in place. He ran a hand over her breast, gently squeezing her nipple. She felt it harden involuntarily. “You see?” he gasped. “Your body knows the answer.” His hand moved downwards, sliding over her stomach.
Carol summoned up all her strength and pushed, catching him off balance enough to escape again. She backed into the middle of the room. “This really isn’t the time, Tadzio.”
He turned to face her. Now there was no tenderness in his expression. His eyes had darkened, his brows lowered. “There’s never going to be a right time, is there, Carol?” He delivered her name with a snarl.
Until then, she had felt no real sense of threat. He had seemed nothing more than an importunate wannabe lover; she had believed she could appeal to his innate good manners to protect herself. But that one word shattered the illusion. It hit her with the force of a physical blow. He knew her real name. She struggled to keep her composure but couldn’t keep her eyes from widening in shock.
“Yes, that’s right, I know who you are,” he said, advancing on her again.
She tried to circle away from him, but the loose material of her trousers caught in a chair leg, slowing her down enough for him to grab her wrist. “Of course you know who I am,” she said, trying to sound reasonable. “You checked me out.”
“I checked out Caroline Jackson,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “And I also checked out Carol Jordan.”
It was too late for bluff, she realized. There was nothing left to say. The only weapon she had now was silence. She held his gaze, trying for strength and defiance.
“Your precious boyfriend’s been telling tales, Carol. Dr. Hill spun me a story about how you weren’t really a cop any more. How you’d crossed the line, seen your chance and taken it. But if that had been true, you would have slept with me. You would have let me fuck you seven different ways last night and again tonight. Anything to get what you wanted. Only a cop would hold out. I’m right, aren’t I? You’re still a cop?”
Still she said nothing, forcing her face not to give away the terror she’d felt as soon as he mentioned Tony. How had he found Tony? Where was he? What had they done to him?
Suddenly, he yanked her arm hard, pulling her off balance. As she staggered, he slapped her face with his free hand. “You wouldn’t fuck me, but you came straight back here and fucked him, didn’t you, bitch?”
Carol steadied herself and looked at him with contempt. “Is that what this is about? Male ego?” As soon as the words were out, she realized her mistake. Faster than she would have believed possible, he threw himself on her, his momentum bringing them both crashing to the floor. Now he had both hands free, and he slapped her face from side to side, her head jerking back and forth till she felt the room spin.
Then she was mercifully, unexpectedly free of him. She rolled on to her side and struggled to her knees, the world a
dizzying kaleidoscope around her. She felt herself being jerked backwards and upwards. Her feet scrabbled for purchase on the floor, but before she could support herself, he slammed her into the wall with a sickening crunch. She felt her nose crumple as it hit, tasted the sharp coppery bite of blood at the back of her throat. Her knees failed her, and she collapsed to the floor again.
“I don’t care if you fuck every man in Berlin,” he growled.
“What I care about is that you had my Katerina killed so you could play out your shitty little game.”
Carol rolled groggily into a sitting position. He knew what he was doing, fucking her head up like this. She could barely string two thoughts together, so stunned was she. What she did know, however, was that his words made no sense. “No,” she groaned. “That’s not true. We just…took advantage.”
He leaned forward and grabbed a handful of her shirt front, pulling her up again. “You think I’m stupid? You still think there’s any point in lying to me?”
“I’m not…lying,” Carol managed to squeeze out through bruised lips. “We didn’t kill Katerina.”
“Don’t fucking lie to me,” he screamed, flecks of spittle flying from his mouth and spattering her face. “The motorbike that caused the accident is registered to your fucking National Crime Squad. You killed Katerina. And then you killed Colin Osborne so there would be two nice little vacancies for you to fill.”
“I had nothing to do with Katerina’s death,” she protested weakly. “I’d never heard your name till a couple of weeks ago.” Now he was dragging her across the room. Dazed, Carol couldn’t work out what was going on. He was clearly going to kill her, so why not just get on with it?