The Last Temptation

by Val McDermid

  Marijke ran off, leaving Carol propped up against the wall. Left alone, with no action to distract her, there was nothing to keep the nightmare at bay. Her mind’s eye betrayed her, flashing up the defiling images she wanted permanently erased from inside her head. Radecki’s face above hers, the tearing invasion of her body, the transformation of something previously enjoyable into an excursion into brutality. The terrible sense of loss that left her feeling bleached and split open. And the tears that leaked from her eyes in spite of her best intentions.

  There was nowhere to go to wrench her mind away from it. It was as if her past had been sprayed with defoliant, withering before her eyes to a shrivelled meaningless husk. And the future was something she dare not think about, since a future that didn’t contain Tony promised nothing but sempiternal guilt.

  Rescue came in the unlikely form of a BMW roadster roaring up the ramp from the underground garage. Carol limped across the pavement and gingerly lowered herself into the passenger seat. “I don’t know the way,” she said, feeling herself on the point of tears yet again.

  Marijke smiled. “I do. I asked the car park man. It’s very near, he says. Just a couple of minutes away.”

  Carol looked at her watch. “We’re going to be too late. The programme finished ten minutes ago.”

  “Well, we better hurry.” Marijke put her foot down and the car leapt forward.

  The car park attendant had been right. The studio was only a few streets away. “I bet we’ve missed him,” Carol said morosely as they parked twenty yards away from the gate.

  “I don’t think so,” Marijke said. “Two of the cars we passed on the way in had a driver sitting inside. And a passenger too, I think.”

  Carol closed her eyes and let herself believe. “The tag team. Thank you, Petra.”

  They hadn’t had long to wait. And now they were part of the convoy that might, just might save Tony’s life.

  They had been driving for about twenty minutes, doing exactly what they were supposed to. Every few minutes, the lead vehicle in the tail would turn off down a side street then double back and pick up the rear, leaving a fresh set of headlights in Krasic’s mirror. Petra had no idea where they were headed. The one good thing was that they clearly weren’t making for Radecki’s apartment. That had to increase the chances that they were going to wherever Tony was being held captive.

  They’d headed out east along Karl Marx Allee, and now they were on the fringes of Lichtenberg. Petra was second in line, behind the SUV. Suddenly, the Mercedes swung right into a small industrial estate near the railway marshalling yards. The SUV carried straight on, and Petra switched off her lights before she made the turn. She hung well back, keeping the Merc’s tail lights in view. The brake lights burned bright for a moment, then it went dark. Petra turned off her ignition, fearing they might notice her engine and coasted to a halt. She could see the outline of The Shark’s car in her rear-view mirror, black against the outline of a warehouse. Petra switched off the interior light and got out of the car, avoiding the reflex of slamming it shut. She palmed her Walther and dropped her bag into the driver’s footwell.

  Seven shadows loomed up behind her. “They’ve stopped just ahead. About fifty yards,” Petra said in a low voice. “We need to check it out. Let’s fan out and come at it front and side. If we’re sure they’ve got Tony in there, I go in first. Special Ops behind me. Shark, you stay outside, cover our backs. Is everybody cool with that?”

  The Special Ops commander grinned, his teeth flashing white. “Sounds solid. I’ll take the front with you. You two, come up on the left. And you, go with The Shark round on the right. We’ll link up at the front if it’s all clear.”

  “We’re coming with you,” Morgan said.

  “I don’t think so,” Petra said firmly.

  “Look, I don’t know what the fuck Tony Hill is doing in the middle of my operation, but he’s a British citizen, and I am not taking a back seat here. I’d stake my pension that I’ve done a lot more operations like this than you have, Detective Becker.”

  “Have you got a gun?” Petra demanded.

  “No.”

  “Then you’re a liability.”

  “I’ll stay well back.”

  “We’re wasting time here,” the Special Ops commander muttered. “Let him come. If he gets shot, it’s not our responsibility.”

  Petra threw her hands up in the air. “Fine. You come with us, but the desk jockey”—she pointed at Gandle—“goes with The Shark.”

  Morgan nodded. “OK. So let’s do it.”

  Someone yanked one end of the tarpaulin, spilling Tony on to the hard concrete floor. He felt his skin abrade as he skidded off the tarp, but he lay still, apart from eyes blinking in the sudden light. He didn’t have the energy for more. Radecki was standing in front of him, arms folded, legs apart.

  “You lied to me,” he said conversationally. “Please take that rag out of his mouth, Darko.”

  Krasic leaned down and jerked Tony’s underpants from his mouth. He’d become so dehydrated that he felt pieces of skin rip off with them. His tongue felt like a giant salami lying dead in his mouth. Even if he’d had anything to say, he doubted he could manage it.

  “It was a good lie,” Radecki continued. “Part of me almost believed it. I admit, I wanted to believe it. She’s a beautiful woman. Well, I should say, she used to be a beautiful woman. I don’t think her looks are going to work so well for her in the future.”

  Tony tried not to show the pain Radecki’s words gave him. He kept his gaze level, his eyes unflinchingly on the other man’s face.

  “I set her a little test, you see. I knew she was hot to fuck me last night, but she held back. If you were telling the truth, I knew she’d come across if she thought that playing hard to get was going to cost her our little deal. But if you were lying, she could never fuck me, could she? Because then all her evidence would be tainted. If it ever came to court, my lawyer would destroy her.” He unfolded his arms and thrust his hands in the pockets of his trousers. It was a strut, and Tony recognized it as such.

  “And so, I demonstrated to my own satisfaction that you were indeed lying.” His mouth curved in a humourless smile. “But I fucked her anyway. I fucked her mouth, I fucked her cunt, I fucked her ass. You should be grateful that I’m going to kill you, because after what I did to her, you’d never want to go near her again.”

  There was a sort of relief in the confirmation of his imminent death, Tony thought. At least he wouldn’t have to live with the guilt. He tried to speak, but nothing came out.

  “I think our guest needs some lubrication, Darko.”

  Krasic disappeared, returning with a bottle of mineral water. He crouched down and grabbed Tony by the hair, pouring the freezing water over his face and into his open mouth. Tony spluttered and gagged, but his mouth was no longer agonizingly dry.

  “You were about to say something, Dr. Hill?” Radecki said politely.

  “You’re boring me,” Tony croaked. “Just finish the job.”

  Radecki pouted. “What is it with you Brits? You’ve got no sense of fun. That bitch Carol wouldn’t even put up a fight. But then, maybe she was enjoying it?”

  Tony wasn’t going to rise to such transparent bait. He said nothing.

  “You know why I’m going to kill you? It’s not because you lied to me. It’s because your people killed Katerina. She had done nothing wrong except to love me. Oh, and of course she had the misfortune to look like a convenient detective. So, I have to live with that.” For the first time, his face showed an emotion other than triumph or contempt. “Just as Carol Jordan will have to live with the face that what she is has cost you your life.” He pulled a gun out of the waistband of his trousers.

  Tony closed his eyes and waited.

  Carol reached for the door handle. “Hold on,” Marijke said.

  “Why? Petra’s crew are all out of sight. We’ve come this far, I want to be there.”

  “Think about it,” Mari
jke said, reaching to take Carol’s hand in hers. “It may be this is not the place. If Petra will see you, she will be angry. She will make us go away. You know this is the first time we have met? I don’t want her to think I am a fool. Anyway,” she carried on over Carol’s objection, “you cannot walk so far, I think. We wait and see, and if they go in, we drive down and you can see it all for yourself.”

  “I’m sorry, Marijke. I’m not thinking straight. You’re right.”

  “I know this is hard. You love him, yes?”

  “Yes. I love him.” She’d never admitted it to another living soul. It was rather late to be starting now, but Carol felt she owed Tony that affirmation at least. “But I don’t think he’s ever believed it.”

  “You are lovers, yes?”

  Carol shook her head. “It’s a complicated story. The circumstances were never right. Or so we thought.” She sighed. “I wish now it had been different.”

  “Don’t despair. He’s probably still alive. Petra will get him out.”

  Carol squeezed the other woman’s hand. “Marijke, even if he gets out of this alive, there’s not a chance in hell that we can be together. Not after what Radecki did to me tonight. Besides, it was me who brought him here, remember? If I hadn’t asked him to come, he’d be home now. Safe and well.”

  There was nothing more to be said, Marijke thought. At least, not now. She had seen too many rape victims over the years to offer platitudes now.

  Petra took a deep breath and set off, walking fast but stealthily towards the spot where she’d seen the lights die. The empty Mercedes was parked outside a small building with corrugated metal walls and roof. There was a big roller door in the middle of the frontage, with a small wooden door set to one side. There was no cover between them and the door, but equally there were no windows to reveal their approach.

  She put her head down and ran for it, her trainers almost silent on the asphalt. She flattened herself against the wall on one side of the door, Morgan and the Special Ops commander lined up on the other. Petra inched sideways, putting her ear to the door. Nothing. She shook her head. He winked at her and took a small hand drill from one of his many pockets. He placed it against the door and delicately turned the brace. Even standing next to him, Petra couldn’t hear a thing.

  Once the hole was made, he inserted a small microphone, then handed her a single earphone. Radecki’s voice echoed loud and clear in her head as if someone had flicked a switch. “…oing to kill you? It’s not because you lied to me. It’s because your people killed Katerina. She had done nothing wrong except to love—Petra ripped the earphone out.

  “He’s in there. Tony’s in there. Radecki’s threatening him. We need to go in now.”

  He nodded. “Stand clear.”

  Petra jumped back as he drew his semi-automatic machine pistol and blew the lock out of the door in a single burst of fire. He kicked the door open and raced inside. She was at his heels, gun drawn for the second time that night. She had no idea where Morgan was, nor did she care.

  She took it all in instantaneously, brain processing the scene. Radecki swinging round to face them, gun in hand. Krasic over to one side, reaching toward his back, then looking baffled and horrified. Tony’s white body naked and bound between Radecki and them. “Armed police, drop your weapons!” a voice roared. She realized with a shock that it was hers.

  Radecki’s face showed panic. He let off a loose shot that came nowhere near them. Petra took aim, her world narrowing to a tight focus. But before she could squeeze the trigger, there was another burst of automatic fire. Scarlet sprayed out in several directions from Radecki’s legs and he crumpled to the floor, screaming, his gun clattering off out of reach.

  From the corner of her eye, Petra caught sight of Krasic charging down the Special Ops commander. She swung round and, without pause for thought, squeezed out a single shot. It hit the Serb in the gut, felling him instantly.

  Petra stood frozen to the spot, her ears ringing from the gunfire, her nostrils filled with the smell of cordite. Radecki was still squealing like a pig, while Krasic gurgled like a half-blocked drain. She heard running feet, then The Shark’s voice. “Fuck, I always miss the action,” he complained.

  “We need ambulances, Shark. I don’t want these two bastards to bleed to death. Go and radio for the paramedics. And you better get KriPo along too,” Petra said dully. She dropped her gun to the floor and walked like a zombie to Tony. She crouched down beside him, slipping her jacket off and putting it over his shoulders. His face was a mess, though nothing like as bad as Carol’s had been. “Somebody get a knife over here,” she called.

  One of the Special Ops guys trotted over, opening a Swiss Army knife and handing it to her. For the second time that night, she freed someone she liked and respected from their bonds. Tony gave a shuddering cry as his arms and legs cramped at their sudden release.

  Morgan knelt down by Tony and started massaging his legs. “It’s a bastard, but it passes quickly,” he said.

  Then Tony thought he was hallucinating. He heard Carol’s voice, riven with concern. “Tony? Tony, are you OK?” He struggled to roll on to his back, but his arms had no strength. Gently, Morgan grasped his shoulders and turned him towards the door.

  Petra jumped to her feet, astonishment on her face as she registered the arrival of Carol and Marijke. “What the fuck are you two doing here?” she said, half laughing, half crying.

  Carol ignored her, making for Tony like a pigeon for home. Gandle stepped into her path. “DCI Jordan?” he said uncertainly, putting a hand on her arm.

  “Take your fucking hands off me,” she snarled, brushing past him and continuing on her way. Unconscious of her own injuries, she knelt on the floor beside Tony, cradling his head against her breast. “I’m so sorry,” she choked. “I’m so sorry.”

  Words were beyond him. He simply clung to her. There they stayed, oblivious to the hubbub around them as paramedics and police swarmed into the building. They were impervious to everything until Radecki’s voice cut through the clamour in a roar. “You think you’ve won, bitch?” Suddenly there was silence. “I might be going to jail, but compared to you, I’m free. You’ll never be free of me.”

  39

  Petra let herself into her apartment and closed the door quietly behind her. It was early evening, but she didn’t want to risk waking Tony if he’d managed to fall asleep. He’d been staying in her apartment at her insistence ever since his discharge from hospital. They’d kept him in for a single night, out of concern about possible hypothermia rather than his acute injuries. Three broken ribs, two broken fingers and a shattered cheekbone weren’t enough to justify occupying a hospital bed, the doctor had firmly told Petra when she had protested against so swift a release. “He’ll probably need some reconstructive surgery on his cheek, but that’ll have to wait for a while,” he’d said.

  So Petra had brought him back to her place. She didn’t think he was fit to be left alone, and he didn’t want to return home until Wilhelm Mann had been arrested. Now his involvement in the case was out in the open, his profile had been shared with the German police teams investigating the murders. She knew, because he’d told her, that he’d been taking phone calls from the officers in Heidelberg, Bremen and Köln, but he’d said little about their content, merely that they seemed to be taking his analysis seriously. In truth, he’d not said much about anything, spending long hours staring into space, apparently oblivious to Petra’s presence.

  Carol of course had been whisked away to Den Haag by Morgan and Gandle. They had informed Hanna Plesch that they would debrief Carol there and pass on all their information to the Berlin criminal intelligence unit, who were working flat out to roll up Radecki’s networks across Germany and beyond. Petra had complained about this too, but she might as well have saved her breath. Plesch was perfectly happy to have one less thing to think about in the aftermath of the dramatic and unorthodox climax to the operation against Radecki.

  Petra had endured
an uncomfortable interview with her boss on the subject of Tony’s presence in Berlin and her own involvement in the serial killer investigation. But once it looked as though nothing was going to emerge in the media about the more bizarre elements of the showdown, Plesch had relaxed. She’d been more concerned over the possibility of having to answer questions about the presence of a Dutch cop and two British intelligence officers in a Special Ops action than she was about what she called Petra’s anarchic behaviour. She could afford to be indulgent after such a good result, Petra thought.

  Marijke had left for Köln the next morning on an early flight. They’d managed to spend rather less than an hour alone together in the course of that chaotic night, and they’d both been too dazed by events to be capable of anything other than bemused, sporadic conversation. Petra had a horrible feeling that they’d never find a way back to their previous ease with each other, and she regretted the loss already.

  She walked quietly through to the living room, where Tony was sitting upright on the sofa. “Hi,” she said.

  “Good day?”

  She shrugged out of her leather jacket and tossed it over a chair. “Hard work. We’ve been pulling in Radecki’s underlings all day and trying to find enough bodies to interview them. Even with all leave cancelled, we’re struggling.”

  “But at least you feel like you’re getting somewhere,” he said.

  “Oh yeah, we’re making real progress.”

  “That’s more than can be said for Marijke.”

  Petra gave him a quizzical look. “Have you been talking to her today?”

  He nodded. “She called this afternoon. She’s got to got back to Köln tomorrow, and she wanted to know if she should come via Berlin. She couldn’t get hold of you at the office or on your mobile, so she rang here.”