by Faith Martin
Tom Warrington stood in the doorway. He was dressed in a pair of blue denim jeans with a white shirt hanging loose over his hips. He had a bit of a five o’clock shadow, and his hair was slightly ruffled.
He looked at Hillary with hot, eager eyes.
‘You came. How did you find me?’
Hillary stood a few feet away from him, and gave a slow, dazzling smile. ‘Tom, sweetheart,’ she said simply. ‘Remember who you’re talking to,’ she chided gently.
Tom Warrington’s smile widened even further. ‘You’re right. Sorry. Won’t you come in?’
Out of the corner of his eye, Steven saw Jessop get to his feet and run for the back of the van. Without a thought, Steven did the same.
Jimmy Jessop’s eyes widened as he flattened himself against the back of the van’s paintwork, and saw his superintendent sprint quietly up to join him. Steven held a hand to his lips and Jimmy nodded.
In truth, Jimmy had never been glad to see anyone so much in his life.
In front of the van, Hillary Greene smiled up into Tom Warrington’s green eyes.
‘Don’t be silly, Tom,’ Hillary said. ‘You don’t really think I’m going to go inside with you, do you?’
Tom held his hands wide. ‘Of course not. You’re way to smart for that. Normally, I mean. But we both know that I’ve got an ace in the hole, don’t we?’ And he laughed. There was something wire-taut and reckless about it, and it set the flesh on the back of her spine creeping.
Hillary forced herself to laugh lightly. ‘Is she still alive?’ She tried to keep her voice nonchalant, barely even curious, but wasn’t quite sure that she’d succeeded.
Tom laughed again. ‘Oh, she’s been learning her lesson. I couldn’t stand the way she bad-mouthed you, but I had to put up with it before. Now she knows better. But yeah, she’s still alive. I wanted to take my time. I thought I had plenty. But it seems I underestimated you again. Sorry about that, sweetheart.’
Suddenly Tom’s green eyes sharpened and he looked around nervously. ‘You are alone, right?’
Hillary frowned. ‘Of course I’m alone,’ she said, letting censure drip into her voice. ‘You don’t think I’d want anybody else trampling all over us, do you?’
Instantly, Tom’s face cleared. ‘No, of course not. Sorry. You just took me by surprise.’
At the back of the van, Steven peered up into first one window then another, but the curtains were drawn and he couldn’t see a thing. There was no way to confirm Warrington’s assertion that Vivienne was still alive in there.
Cautiously, he began to edge to the side of the van. He could feel Jessop right behind him, and turned, and pointed to the other side of the van. Better to get Warrington in a pincer movement if possible. It doubled the chances of preventing him from getting back into the van that way. The priority now was to make sure that he couldn’t get back to his hostage.
And to save Hillary Greene from getting her throat cut.
Jessop nodded that he understood and began to edge back the other way.
In front of the van, Hillary thought that she saw a number of fingers appear at the side of the van and forced her eyes not to move there. She needed to keep Warrington’s attention riveted on her and away from Jimmy. More importantly still, she needed to get him out of the doorway and further into the open.
‘Are you saying you’re not happy to see me?’ she asked archly, and took a few steps back, pretending to be about to turn around and walk away. ‘In that case, I’ll go!’
‘No!’ She turned back, relieved to see that Warrington had come down the two steps and was now standing on the ground. ‘Don’t tease me,’ Tom said, but although his voice was half-amused, half-petulant, his eyes were begin to slit together in a show of real anger.
Hillary smiled quickly and turned back to him. ‘I thought you liked a bit of teasing,’ she said. ‘After all, fair’s fair. You’ve been teasing me for weeks.’
Tom shrugged, but his eyes opened in a blaze of mock innocence and insolence. ‘You loved it,’ he crowed.
Hillary shrugged. ‘But playtime’s over now,’ she said. And meant it. ‘Aren’t you going to come and claim your reward?’
Tom Warrington took three steps towards her and stopped. From the right-hand side of the van, Hillary saw Jimmy Jessop’s face abruptly appear and disappear. He was taking a quick look at the lie of the land, and that was understandable, but what shook Hillary was the fact that she was sure that she’d seen the fingers on the left-hand side of the van. How could an old man like Jimmy get from one side to the other so quickly?
‘What’s wrong?’ Tom Warrington asked sharply, not liking the way her lovely sherry-coloured eyes flickered just then. He was feeling super-alert, and super-charged, and he wanted so much just to run to her and take her.
But he was wary.
‘Why don’t you tell me?’ Hillary asked softly. ‘You’re the one over there, whilst I’m the one over here.’
Tom smiled uncertainly and took another few steps towards her. As he did so, Steven Crayle moved around the left-hand side of the van and began a fast, almost silent sprint up behind Warrington.
Almost silent, but not quite.
Then three things happened at once.
Tom Warrington started to turn around, saw Steven Crayle and, with a roar, reached into his back denim pocket and came out with a flick knife.
Hillary Greene shouted a warning and launched herself forward.
Jimmy, hearing Hillary’s scream of warning, shot around from the right-hand side, taser raised.
Tom Warrington was interested only in Steven Crayle. For weeks now, the elegant, superior, handsome superintendent had been nosing his way into Hillary’s life, and here at last was his chance to get payback. He stepped forward, raising the knife, anticipating the moment with relish when he was able to slide it into the bastard’s ribs. He felt something land on his back, and he staggered forward with the unexpected weight, bending over slightly.
He could smell Hillary’s perfume, and felt her arms come around his neck. But her fingers were gouging for his eyes and he jerked his head back quickly, flexing his massive shoulders muscles and attempting to throw her off.
But she clung on, and he felt her bite his ear savagely. Something warm and sticky ran down his neck. At the same time, Crayle went low, ducked his head, and hit him straight in the lower gut with a head-ram that made the air whoosh out of his lungs.
He roared and threw his arms wide, dislodging Hillary who went flying. He reached down, inverting the knife and, through the layers of pain, pointed the blade down, towards Steven’s exposed back. His arms, pumped with muscle, tensed, ready to plunge the blade home.
And then the world exploded with a bright blue light, and a zzzzzzzing sound that seemed to split his ears. He felt his whole body jerk and dance spasmodically, and then he had the sensation of falling into blackness.
He didn’t see Jimmy Jessop standing over him, the discharged taser gun in his hand and a snarling, satisfied smile on his face.
Commander Marcus Donleavy sighed heavily and looked at the three people in front of him. It was five hours later, and he was still not sure whether to be in a good mood or a raging temper.
Whatever, he was in no mood to string this out. He pointed a finger at Jimmy Jessop who froze like a rabbit in the spotlight.
‘You,’ he said. ‘Get yourself down to supplies and liaise with Sergeant Fulcott. You were assigned the taser three days ago, and filled out every piece of paper needed. Remember to backdate it. I don’t want any loose ends if an inquiry is convened, and people come sniffing. You acted with Superintendent Crayle’s full knowledge and support. If there is an inquiry, and I’m going to do my best to ensure there’s not, you’ll say bugger all about anything. Got it?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Jimmy barked.
Donleavy nodded. ‘All right then. Sod off.’
Jimmy gulped and shot out of his chair. Hillary gave the commander a long level look and, just as
Jimmy got to the door, he added gruffly, ‘That was good work you did today, Mr Jessop.’
Jimmy nodded, and shot through the door like a scalded cat. He’d always heard Donleavy was one of the good ones – a bastard, but a good one, and having seen that for himself, was in no mood to prolong the experience.
Donleavy sighed and then glanced at Crayle.
‘I expect you and DI Rhumer to get your stories straight too. You planned the whole procedure. You decided that you couldn’t wait for back-up. You take all the glory – and if the shit hits the fan, you take all the brown stuff too. Agreed?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Steven said stiffly.
Marcus Donleavy nodded. Then smiled. ‘Don’t worry. It’ll be glory all the way. You solved two missing persons’ cases, and one murder. And you rescued a colleague from danger and apprehended one sick puppy. Of course, the media will have a field day with Warrington being one of our own, but that can’t be helped.’
‘Sir, I think we should get the PR doctors to spin Vivienne Tyrell as the heroine of this story,’ Hillary put in.
After Jimmy had put down Warrington, she’d staggered to her feet and been the first through the van door. She’d found Vivienne tied up on the bed with a black eye. She’d been in shock, of course, and was currently in the hospital being treated, but she’d managed to tell them that she hadn’t been raped, and that Warrington had been ranting on and on about Hillary for most of the time.
‘I know Vivienne won’t be coming back to us, sir,’ she carried on. ‘She admitted to me she wasn’t cut out for police work. But she needs to turn this experience into something positive – we owe her that. And I think that, when she’s had a chance to recover, she’ll be more than happy to be in the spotlight, and will be able to turn her five minutes of fame into a career opportunity, perhaps to go for something in the media. Besides, I think the top brass will be happy to have a copper – well, sort of a copper – shown in an heroic light, given the circumstances. It’ll help to take the focus away from Warrington.’
Donleavy’s grey eyes glittered. ‘I dare say it will. And if what I’ve been hearing about our Miss Tyrell is true, she’ll be happy to take the proper advantage of the situation. So. How exactly are you two feeling?’
Hillary rubbed her throbbing shoulder. She thought she’d wrenched it when Warrington had thrown her to the ground, but she hadn’t said anything. ‘I’ll be fine, sir,’ she said flatly.
Donleavy’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded. ‘And you?’ he turned to Steven Crayle. ‘Head butting a suspect and then getting the residue zapping from a taser gun couldn’t have been a picnic.’
Steven, who had a major headache, grimaced. ‘I’m fine,’ he said flatly. When you had a muscle-bound suspect to tackle, the least-armoured area was the stomach. Forget about going at it with fists – that way led to broken bones and injury. Still, that didn’t stop his head and neck from feeling as if they’d just been used as a battering ram. Which they had.
Donleavy, without a word, reached into his desk and came out with a packet of aspirin. He pushed it towards Hillary, who smiled grimly, and accepted the peace offering for them both.
‘OK, Steven,’ Donleavy said ‘today’s shenanigans, if played right – and I’ll make damned sure that they are played right – could mean a promotion for you. Or at the very least, bring you to the top men’s attention. Chief Super sounds good, does it?’
Steven smiled wanly. Right now, bed and a stiff whisky sounded even better. ‘Yes sir,’ he agreed obediently.
‘I don’t really have to read you two the Riot Act, do I?’ Marcus Donleavy demanded. ‘What went down this afternoon was a right farce. You’re both damned lucky it turned out as it did. Get your act together. I don’t want to have a repeat performance. Etc, etc.’
Hillary nodded and rose abruptly to her feet. ‘Understood, sir,’ she said crisply. She was in no mood for Donleavy’s heavy sarcasm right now. Besides, as a civilian, she didn’t have to take it anymore.
Steven, slightly surprised by her abrupt retreat, nevertheless rose and quite happily followed her out. Without a word, they left the building together and walked slowly towards his car. No doubt, the news about the afternoon’s events was spreading through the station house like wildfire, but they would have to deal with that, and any fall out from it, tomorrow.
Inside the car, he slumped wearily back against the driver’s seat and sighed.
‘I’m as mad as hell at you, you know,’ he said listlessly, staring out in front of him at a line of similarly parked cars. ‘You scared the living daylights out of me.’
‘I know. I’m sorry.’
Steven suddenly gave a great bark of laughter. Hillary Greene, being humble? He never thought he’d live to see the day. He turned to look at her, and saw with a pang, that she was exhausted.
And who could blame her? She’d been through hell.
Then he laughed again. ‘Ah, what the hell? Do you realize, you haven’t stroked that damned scar on your neck once today?’
Hillary slowly rolled her head to one side and looked at him. Her lips twitched. ‘What damned scar?’
By the Same Author
A NARROW ESCAPE
ON THE STRAIGHT AND NARROW
NARROW IS THE WAY
BY A NARROW MAJORITY
THROUGH A NARROW DOOR
WITH A NARROW BLADE
BESIDE A NARROW STREAM
DOWN A NARROW PATH
ACROSS THE NARROW BLUE LINE
A NARROW POINT OF VIEW
A NARROW EXIT
A NARROW RETURN
Copyright
© Faith Martin 2013
First published in Great Britain 2013
This edition 2013
ISBN 978 0 7198 1273 6 (epub)
ISBN 978 0 7198 1274 3 (mobi)
ISBN 978 0 7198 1275 0 (pdf)
ISBN 978 0 7198 1054 1 (print)
Robert Hale Limited
Clerkenwell House
Clerkenwell Green
London EC1R 0HT
www.halebooks.com
The right of Faith Martin to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988