by Tania Carver
In another life, the Golem would have been upset about the little girl, shared some empathy for her situation. But not any more. Now it was just a job. He had his instructions: take the man and the woman out, any way he wanted. The other man should be brought to the Sloanes. The little girl … use his discretion.
He scanned the borders once more. If they saw him coming, all they could do was run. That would make his job more difficult, but not impossible. They wouldn’t get far. Not with him blocking the entrance to the main road.
A line of trees fringed the road. He could use them for cover as he made his way down there. Good. He got out of the car, locked it. Started to walk, keeping in the shade of the trees, not allowing his own shadow to be cast in the open.
He looked once more at the house. Despite the sunshine, the place carried an air of depression. As if whoever lived here had reached the end.
How true, he thought.
As he walked, he saw movement in one of the ground-floor windows of the house. He stopped, took out the lens once more. A man was sitting at a table, laptop before him.
He would be the first target.
He put the lens away, walked on. Reached the house, rounded the corner.
Then the dogs started to bark.
41
‘This is Josephina. Josephina, this is … ’ The woman thought for a few seconds. She seemed to have genuinely forgotten Tyrell’s name.
‘Malcolm,’ said Tyrell, feeling strange saying the name out loud. As if it confirmed his new identity.
The little girl just stared at him.
He looked back at her. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying, her nostrils encrusted with snot. She looked tired and terrified, like she had woken from a nightmare to find it was real. The woman still held her by the wrist. She looked like she should have been holding a soft toy in the other hand.
Tyrell, thinking he might be scaring her, sat down to be nearer her height.
He tried to smile at her. From the expression on her face, he must have failed.
‘Hello, Josephina. How are you?’
She just stared at him.
‘Have they hurt you?’
‘Oh for God’s sake … ’ The woman twisted Josephina’s hand, trying to pull her away, back to the house.
‘Stay where you are.’
She stared at Tyrell, surprised at the strength in his voice. At the stern words, Josephina looked like she was about to cry. He softened his voice again. Looked at the girl. Was careful not to touch her. He didn’t want her to get the wrong impression about him. That was important to him.
‘Sorry for shouting,’ he said, his voice soft once more. ‘But have they hurt you?’
Josephina risked a glance up at the woman, who was staring off out the window. She looked back at Tyrell, gave a slight shake of her head. No.
She’s saying no, he thought, not because it’s necessarily true, but because it’s the answer she’s expected to give.
‘Good,’ he said. ‘I’m not going to hurt you either. You’re safe when you’re with me. When I’m here.’
Josephina looked like she didn’t believe him. He wasn’t sure he believed himself.
‘I won’t let them hurt you.’
A sigh from the woman. ‘You finished? Yes? Happy? Good. Because we’ve got to get on.’ She pulled Josephina’s wrist, dragging her to the door.
But Tyrell wasn’t ready to let her go just yet. ‘It won’t be long. They want me to meet your mother. They want her to do something for them. Then you and your mother can go home. Together.’
Another sigh from the woman.
‘Mummy?’ said Josephina. She looked around. ‘Mummy?’
‘We’re going to meet her,’ said Tyrell.
‘Don’t go telling the kid that, shit-for-brains,’ said the woman. ‘We’ll never be able to manage her.’
Tyrell stared at her. Felt himself shake with anger at her words. ‘You look after this child, or I won’t do anything you want.’
The woman stared at him.
‘And don’t swear in front of her. It’s not nice.’
Another sigh. Exasperation this time. ‘Jesus … ’
Then the dogs started barking.
The woman dropped Josephina’s wrist, moved hurriedly to the window. ‘Oh fuck.’
‘What did I just say?’ said Tyrell. ‘No swearing in—’
She turned to him.
‘This is bad,’ she said. ‘This is very fucking bad.’
42
DS Jessie James tried hard not to let her irritation show.
DC Deepak Shah had received a call on his mobile. Fair enough. But instead of just answering it or putting it on handsfree and loudspeaker, he had insisted on pulling the car over.
‘Just take the call,’ she had said, exasperatedly, not for the first time.
He had ignored her, followed his own procedure. She had shaken her head. Bet he demands an invoice every time he makes a cup of tea at home, she thought.
‘No,’ he had said. ‘It’s this one.’ And had dug down into his trouser pocket, pulled out a second mobile. An old black clamshell.
Two phones. Jessie shook her head.
He listened, asked a couple of questions, and Jessie became curious, despite herself. Deepak took out his notepad, wrote something down. Jessie tried to see what it was, but he kept it angled away from her.
Sometimes she wanted to kill him.
He ended the call slowly, almost ritualistically, and pocketed the phone.
‘Two phones?’ she said.
He nodded.
‘Why?’
‘Because I can’t be too careful,’ he said. He patted his pocket, checked the notepad, entered something into the sat nav, put the car back in gear. When a space in the traffic appeared, he pulled out.
‘Can’t be too careful?’ Jessie laughed. ‘What, like the American cops that used to carry two guns? One a throwdown piece, for shootouts.’
He said nothing.
‘That’s you, is it? The British equivalent? What you going to do, call someone to death?’
‘That was the station,’ he said, ignoring her. ‘They’ve traced the car.’
Jessie was suddenly all business. ‘From outside the cottage? The one that was there when the cottage went up?’
He nodded.
‘And?’
‘It’s registered to … ’ He glanced at his notepad. ‘Michael Sloane.’
‘Right. Good. We got an address?’
‘On the pad. I’ve taken the liberty of keying it in. I presumed you would want to go there and question them.’
‘Absolutely. No time like the present.’
They drove on.
‘Sloane … Michael Sloane … ’ Jessie frowned. ‘Why does that name mean something? I’ve heard it before.’
Deepak nodded. ‘I agree. Can’t remember where, though. Shall I pull over, ma’am? Make a few calls?’
‘No, just keep going. We’ll do it later.’
‘You’re the boss.’ He kept driving.
Deepak annoyed the hell out of her. But she had to admit, he was a damned good copper. In fact there was no one she would rather have alongside her.
She smiled to herself. Well, perhaps Mickey Philips …
43
The Golem cursed and stopped walking. Such a simple mistake. An apprentice’s error. Why would they need elaborate security systems when they could have attack dogs?
He looked round once more. Saw a curtain being dropped back into place in the caravan. Glanced at the house. Saw the person at the downstairs window look out, hurry away again. Saw activity. The laptop being closed up. Someone getting ready to leave in a hurry.
No change of plan. He made for the house. Quickly.
As he reached the corner, he heard something. The dogs’ barking changed in tone. Lower, growling. Then he heard a gate opening. By the time the Golem realised what was happening, it was too late. The dogs were free and barrelling towards him.
He looked round. He wouldn’t reach the car in time. There was no other shelter, no hiding place. They would catch him. He gave another glance round for a weapon, anything he could use to defend himself, fight them off. Found nothing.
He stood, braced, as the two slavering animals bore down on him, jaws apart, ready to pounce, to tear him to shreds.
He closed his eyes. Centred himself. There was nothing he could do about the physical contact, the pain. That was going to happen. The sooner he accepted it, embraced it, the sooner it would be over.
But he could do something about the noise. Most people, when faced with an attacking dog, were terrified. He knew that. And it wasn’t just the open jaws and the anticipation of pain that terrified them; it was the noise too. The barking, growling, howling. That was what scared people. But the Golem wasn’t people. He kept his eyes closed. Focused. Channelled. Blocked out the sound.
He opened his eyes once more. The dogs were still coming towards him, but he could no longer hear them. And if he couldn’t hear them, then he could think. And if he could think, then he could strategise.
The first one, a slavering black and mustard Rottweiler, jumped up at him. It was huge, almost the same height as him at full stretch. But the Golem wasn’t going to allow himself to feel scared or intimidated.
As the dog jumped, he pulled back his arm, brought it forward. Hard. Landed a punch on its neck. The dog’s legs immediately went limp and it fell to the ground, dazed. The Golem kicked it in the head, hard as he could. His steel-reinforced boot connecting with the dog’s skull, the bone splintering, crunching as it hit.
The dog lay twitching, spasming.
The Golem knew he would get no more trouble from that one.
He turned to the other dog. He had no opportunity to defend himself this time. Would just have to take the pain.
The second Rottweiler was on him. Its jaws opened, distended, clamped down on his left forearm. The pain coursed through him, hard and fast, like he’d grabbed an electric cable.
He tried to ignore it. Couldn’t. Screamed.
Hearing that, the dog bit down harder. Tried to wrestle him to the ground, rip his arm off in the process.
The Golem resisted, pulled the opposite way. He could feel flesh and muscle, skin and sinew tear away from his bone as he did so. The blood pumped out, soaking his shirt, filling the dog’s face, its eyes. The dog tasted it, got high on the bloodlust, bit down all the harder. Pulled more ferociously.
The Golem saw the figure from the window move outside. The target was getting away.
He brought his right arm over, bunched his fingers into a fist, brought it down hard on the dog’s snout. The dog roared, either in pain or anger, he couldn’t tell, but didn’t let go. He hit it again. The jaws loosened slightly. Pursuing the advantage, he forced the dog to the ground. It struggled, tried to get away. He pinned it down with his legs.
He managed to get his fingers into the dog’s mouth, pushing back against its teeth. The dog squirmed, tried to wriggle away. The Golem wouldn’t let it. Despite the pain making him light-headed, he held on.
His fingers pushed against the dog’s top jaw. He used his left arm to pull its lower jaw down. He could feel the teeth sinking further into his flesh the harder he pulled down. He focused, concentrated, tried to ignore the pain.
Kept his mind on his goal. His target.
The target must not escape.
He pushed further. Heard, felt something tear in the dog’s face. Kept pushing. More blood, the dog’s this time, as he prised its jaws apart.
He felt its grip on his arm loosening, heard a whimper from within its throat. He kept pushing.
The dog realised it was beaten, let go.
The Golem pulled his arm from its jaw, let the dog slump to the ground. It lay there, whimpering.
He looked over at the house. His target would be getting away. He glanced down again to the dogs. They were both in pain, dying. He couldn’t leave a wounded animal in that state. He knelt down beside the first one, looked into its eyes. Snapped its neck. Did the same to the second.
Then stood up.
Target in his sights.
44
‘There,’ said Mickey, pointing at the screen. ‘That’s her.’ Grainy CCTV footage showed Marina standing at the counter of the service station, looking around anxiously, handing over her card, getting out as quickly as possible, not even waiting for her receipt.
‘She seemed to be in a hurry, I remember that about her.’ The woman who had served her was speaking. She was big, heavyset. Anni thought she looked like a farmer’s wife. Probably was.
‘You sure that’s all?’ said Anni. ‘Anything else you can tell us about her?’
The farmer’s wife stared at the screen, trying to dredge up some memory that would help. Anni had found this a lot with witnesses. They wanted to feel involved, part of the investigation. They wanted to impart some knowledge that would be pivotal, that could crack the case. Something no one else had spotted, something unique. But the woman couldn’t do it.
Probably because there wasn’t anything more there.
‘How did she seem to you?’ asked Mickey.
‘Just like she looks on there,’ said the farmer’s wife. ‘Wanted to pay and get away, as quickly as possible.’
‘Which way was she headed?’ asked Anni. ‘Towards Colchester or towards Braintree?
The woman thought again. Trying hard to be helpful. Eventually shaking her head. ‘Colchester, I think.’
‘Can we see it again, please?’ said Anni.
The farmer’s wife rewound the tape. They watched Marina queue up, tapping one foot in impatience. They saw her look round, anxiety in her face. At one point she stared directly into the camera.
‘Pause it,’ said Mickey.
The woman did as he asked. Mickey and Anni both studied the blurred image.
‘What’s she doing?’ said Anni. ‘Is she … D’you think she knows she’s being watched?’
‘I think she does, yeah,’ he said. ‘She knows she’s on CCTV.’ He turned to the farmer’s wife. ‘Play it forward a few frames.’
She did so. They watched as Marina seemed to stare right into the lens. She looked apologetic, beaten. Then she paid.
‘That’s that, then,’ said Mickey, sitting back.
‘Keep watching,’ said Anni. ‘There’s something … ’
Marina had bought a pack of mints. They watched her take one, then, when the farmer’s wife wasn’t looking, screw the wrapper up and drop it on the floor.
‘Nice,’ said Anni.
Then she was out of the shop and on her way.
They both sat back. Looked at each other.
They fired a few more questions at the farmer’s wife, but it was clear to both of them that the woman had told them everything she could. Mickey left his card with her in case anything else occurred to her. They thanked her for her time, drove off.
‘Well, that was less than helpful,’ said Mickey.
‘What did you expect? She clearly doesn’t want to be found. For whatever reason.’
They drove towards Colchester. Mickey checked his watch.
‘Nearly knocking-off time. We’ve got no more leads, no other jobs we should be doing. I reckon we should head for home.’
‘Reckon you’re right,’ said Anni. ‘We’re about to hit overtime. Franks wouldn’t like that.’
They drove on in silence. Anni eventually spoke. ‘So, you got any plans for tonight?’
‘Me? Nah. Nothing special.’
‘Really?’ There was a playful edge to Anni’s voice. ‘Not rushing off to Ipswich to see your cowgirl DS?’
‘Don’t be stupid.’
From the side, Anni could see that Mickey was reddening. His driving had speeded up too.
‘I told you,’ he said, feeling he ought to explain more, ‘there’s nothing in it. Not on my part, anyway.’
‘Good,’ said Anni. ‘Glad to hear it.’
; ‘Yeah?’ he said.
‘Yeah.’ Anni smiled. Moved towards him. ‘In that case, if you’ve got nothing special on tonight and you’re not after her, why not come back to mine?’
The expression on Mickey’s face, thought Anni, was priceless.
45
The pain was excruciating. The Golem sank to his knees, clutching his torn arm with his good hand. He wanted to black out. He wanted it to stop.
But he knew he could have neither.
Closing his eyes, focusing on finding a still point, removing the pain from his mind wasn’t an option. If he closed his eyes, even for a second, his quarry might escape. And he couldn’t allow that. So he had to give himself the mental and emotional equivalent of a field dressing. Attempt to block it out as much as possible and keep going.
He struggled to his feet, took a couple of deep breaths. Tried to stop his head from spinning. Concentrate on his task. He was a soldier. He was being paid to deliver a service.
So do it, he told himself.
The Golem resumed his walk towards the house. He saw the figure through the window, panicking, hurrying to disconnect a laptop and other electronic items. He watched as the figure gave up on the wires, bundling everything together and just making for the door, laptop under his arm.
The Golem would be ready for him.
He increased his speed, breathing heavily each time his booted feet thudded on the ground. Reached the door of the house. Tried it. Locked.
Of course.
Clutching his arm, he tried to move quickly round the side of the house, stop his target from leaving that way. He found him exiting by the dog kennels. The man stopped, stared at him. Face illuminated by fear.
‘Look,’ he said, ‘you … you don’t have to do this … ’
The Golem said nothing. Just stood there waiting for the man to make a move.
The man had the laptop under one arm, gripping it hard, clutching it against his body. His other hand was hidden. He looked like he was torn between running and fighting.