CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
My mobile was ringing. My eyes seemed to be glued tight shut, and I knocked the phone to the floor in my effort to reach it. When I answered and said ‘Hello’, it was Mickey’s voice that replied. I sat up fast, which made my head thud painfully, and I looked around with guilt, but Silver was long gone, and I was apparently alone.
‘Where are you?’ I asked, still groggy with sleep. I wondered what the time was. A weak sun trickled through the unveiled windows, saturating the clock’s digital display so I couldn’t read it. It looked like dawn had already been.
‘At home. Where are you? Are you all right? They told me—I heard about your brother. I’m so sorry, Jessica.’
It was like a huge hoof to my stomach, like finding out again that he was dead. In these past two weeks, each time I fell asleep and woke I had to come to terms with a hideous reality once more. Now Robbie was gone too.
‘Thank you,’ I said numbly. ‘What time is it?’
‘About eight, I think.’
‘Where were you, Mickey? You should still be in hospital. I was really worried.’
‘I’m sorry, Jessica. I don’t know what happened—I lost it there for a while, I guess. I panicked.’
‘I’ll say. They found Louis’s jumper you know. Where—where Robbie was.’
‘I know. I spoke to your man there—to DI Silver-this morning.’
My face in the mirror opposite was a sight. ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Did you? When?’ I tried for innocence. Your man there. I was innocent, of course.
‘About half an hour ago. He said they’re getting nearer. I’m coming down.’
Why did that make me feel so strange?
‘Do you think you should?’ I said. ‘Have you been checked out? You’re still meant to be in recovery, aren’t you?’
‘And aren’t you, my girl? Honestly,’ there was a pause; I heard something being poured, a drink, ‘we’re a right old pair, are we not?’
Not. Not really a pair, no. Not now.
‘Yes,’ I said dully. ‘A right old pair.’ Then I thought of Louis, and a bubble of anticipation swelled up inside. ‘Oh, Mickey,’ I said, and I got out of bed. I forgot my anxieties about my marriage. I even forgot Robbie for a minute. ‘I’ve got a feeling this is it. We’re going to get our Louis back today, I know we are.’
‘I hope you’re right.’ His tone was fierce, vehement even. ‘I do know—I know how much it’s hurt you, Jessica. Are you sure you’re all right? I’m sorry you’ve been so—well, left so alone to cope. I’ll be there soon.’
‘Oh yes,’ I said, ‘I’ll be fine, I expect. Call me when you’re near, okay?’ Then I thought of something else, and I said, ‘Mickey.’
‘What?’
‘I’m sorry that—’
‘You’re sorry what?’
‘I’m sorry if it was Robbie. That took him. I didn’t want to believe it, but I guess—well, you know.’
‘Yes, I know.’
‘It makes me feel—sort of, responsible somehow.’
He laughed dryly. ‘I don’t think that for a minute, right?’
‘Right,’ I said. I hung up, and then I rang Silver to find out what to do. I was a little tongue-tied.
‘Jess,’ he said, and he was distracted, ‘I can’t talk now. We’ve had a positive sighting. I’ll send a car.’ And then he was gone. The sea outside the window was white-peaked and rough, the clouds that scudded past were foreboding. I got dressed, sick with excitement and terror. I clutched my breasts and wondered whether milk ever started again, and in response I felt a dull deep tingle.
‘Louis,’ I whispered, and I stared at the photo I carried in my purse. I stroked his tiny face. ‘I’m coming, baby. Mummy’ll be there soon.’
Deb and I were sitting in the back of an unmarked car that was going much too fast, even by my desperate standards. We’d travelled across the bosomy South Downs, parched and brown from the long, hot summer, then trailed down the narrow coast road behind dawdling tourists and armies of OAPs until our driver stuck a siren on the roof and overtook on every blind bend until we arrived in the dump called Newhaven. We swung by the rundown ferry-port, taking such a sharp right that Deb and I banged heads as we went sprawling across the back seat.
‘We’d like to get there in one piece please,’ Deb snapped at the driver, hauling herself up with dignity.
He just laughed, and put his foot down. ‘Two pieces, don’t you mean? Sorry, girls.’ He didn’t look the least bit contrite. ‘Orders from the boss, get you there quick smart.’
‘Not to kill us, were they, those orders?’ Deb retorted, but he just smirked. Halfway up a narrow street that led to the sea, we slowed at a roadblock, and I sighed with silent relief. The policewoman who’d brought me those pants the other night leant down to the driver. ‘You’d better park up, Frank,’ she said. ‘No cars any further.’
At the point where a terrace of scruffy houses ended, a gaggle of plain-clothed coppers loitered, looking uneasy, muttering into radios. In the distance, bright but shabby fishing boats bobbed in the water, old nets and pots stacked neatly along a dilapidated jetty. Rusting anchors stained the concrete where they lay, and the air above was full of gulls, crying tragically. They made me think of Robbie; coupled with the overpowering stench of seaweed and rotting fish, my stomach lurched queasily.
I spotted Silver behind a small group of men, chewing his ubiquitous gum, talking to a broad-shouldered, grey-haired man in a long blue coat. Squat and bulldog-like he was, this bloke, and from the way he held himself I guessed he was Silver’s boss. Despite their distance, the tension in both men was obvious from where I stood. I put my hand up to wave—and then my heart stopped. A team of armed police marksmen trotted past, up to some oil-drums where they took cover, guns relaxed across their shoulders, slung idly in holsters, laughing and joking like it was business as usual.
Deb clocked my face, and took me by the arm. ‘I think we should wait here,’ she said, but I was frightened now, more frightened than I’d been this entire bloody time, all these fourteen days.
‘What the bloody hell’s going on now, Deb?’ I demanded. Without waiting for her answer, I marched round the marksmen to where Silver stood.
‘Jess,’ he said, and he didn’t smile. He seemed anxious, really tense.
‘What’s happening, Silver? Why all these guns?’
‘Precautionary, love,’ said the other man, ‘just a precaution at this stage.’ He stuck his hand out, little grey hairs sprouting below each knuckle.
‘Jessica Finnegan, DCI Malloy.’ Silver made the cursory introduction.
‘Hello,’ I said politely.
‘I’m sorry about your brother, love,’ said Malloy gruffly, ‘very sorry.’ For a moment our eyes locked. Very bright eyes, they were, boring into me, and it seemed like his sentiment was real. And then Silver crumpled his drink can in his hand, and cleared his throat, rather awkwardly.
‘I think you should know, Jess, the tox screen for Robbie just came back. It looks a bit—odd.’
‘Odd?’ I repeated numbly.
Malloy glanced at Silver.
‘Yeah—odd. Heroin levels were enough to kill an elephant. Robbie was a regular user, wasn’t he?’
I shrugged. ‘I don’t know really. He hasn’t—’ I took a breath ‘—he wasn’t exactly being straight with me, recently.’
‘I know, and I’m sorry to ask. But the amount he had in his system would suggest he either had a serious death-wish, or—’
‘Or what?’
I watched one of the marksmen, a young bloke whose ears stuck out at funny angles beneath his cap, making a roll-up from his packet of tobacco. He held his green Rizla packet between his teeth, laughing at something a colleague had just said. It made me think of Robbie. It made me think of—
Suddenly their radios crackled into life, and I lost both men’s attention. The marksmen were straightening up, chucking fags down, pulling hats back on.
I repeated my
self frantically. ‘What’s going on, Silver?’
‘We’ve had various reports from local residents: a woman and a baby were seen boarding a boat at the harbour here in the early hours. These boats aren’t usually inhabited; the harbour-permits are strictly for fishing. We don’t think anyone’s disembarked again; they certainly haven’t sailed because it’s been so stormy. Now there’s a gale-force warning.’
‘Maxine?’ I asked Silver. Adrenaline surged through me.
He shrugged. ‘We don’t know yet, but it’d make sense. Blonde, apparently, and tall.’
And then I was gripped by panic. A sense of…impending doom, perhaps.
‘Silver, the guns—’
‘Just a precaution, Jess, like we said.’
‘But I really don’t want guns around my baby. It’s not Miami Vice or something you know.’ An unbidden image flickered through my head; a bullet slicing straight through Louis’s heart, him floppy and doll-like in my arms, cold like Robbie had been yesterday. Me screaming like I’d never stop. I clapped a hand to my mouth. Silver looked down at me, took a small step closer.
‘Just keep calm, Jess. It’ll be all right.’
But I didn’t believe him and he knew it.
‘I’m going to try to get onto the boat in a minute. I won’t let anything bad happen, I swear.’ He grasped my hand and squeezed it tight, so tight the bones cracked painfully. Then Glasses made his way towards us, followed by a man in some kind of nautical uniform.
‘Bet they’re feeling seasick now. Don’t think that fucking boat looks seaworthy myself,’ remarked Glasses cheerfully, pulling his cheroots from his pocket. Then he noticed me. If he rued his pessimism, he didn’t show it. ‘Oh—hello.’
I didn’t even attempt a smile. A dull drone in the background was getting louder; and then, between the houses and the seawall, a speedboat came in sight, a big, expensive-looking beast, gleaming cabin perched on top. DCI Malloy had his binoculars out; the boat was heading into shore.
The harbourmaster frowned officiously. ‘Don’t know who that’d be. You need a special permit to moor here, you know.’
Malloy looked at Silver and jerked his head. ‘You’d better get a move on, Joe. We haven’t got time to waste.’
And so we all watched quite helplessly as Silver detached himself from the hidden group, and made his way down to the sea. I’d never noticed what a lolloping gait he had, and I wanted to shout ‘Good luck, good luck’ but my mouth felt like it was full of feathers, full of sawdust now, and anyway I knew I must keep quiet. And for the first time in my life, I wished I smoked, just to have something in my hands, something to do. Instead I sought my inhaler out and took a squirt, and I felt Deb eyeing me warily. She took my arm and held it protectively, almost possessively, like your best mate does at school.
We were all desperately spying through any gaps we could find. The speedboat had cut its engine now, and was throwing down its anchor, still out to sea. And then all eyes were drawn to a figure, a woman, who staggered out onto the deck of a faded green boat called Miranda Jane. The woman waved at the other boat with obvious relief. A mutter went through the police, and Malloy swiftly switched his gaze to her. She was wearing some sort of hooded sweatshirt, the hood snugly up against the wind, and I couldn’t see her face from where I stood—but in her arms she carried something carefully, and my heart soared right up to the moody sky. Louis! Then she turned slightly, and I saw it wasn’t him at all; just a heavy bag that she was clutching in her arms.
And then Silver reached the jetty and called out to her, and she jumped and dropped the bag. She fell against the boat’s side and her hood slipped down as she turned, and I saw it was Maxine. I took an involuntary step forward, but Deb was quicker, and held me back.
‘Maxine Dufrais, sir,’ Deb muttered to her boss, who nodded curtly. And Silver was talking to her, but all we heard was the sharp cries of mewling gulls, and the distant slap of the ever-roughening sea against the wall, against the boats. And as we watched, Maxine looked around quite desperately, wondering where to go. Nowhere, was the answer—there wasn’t anywhere to run—but I couldn’t see how Silver could get onto the boat unless she let him up. We could see he was trying to reason with her; a lot of gesticulating was going on, and occasionally she looked towards the small gangplank, raised up on the deck.
‘Where’s Louis? Just get Louis out, please God,’ I was muttering aloud, and Deb took my hand and squeezed it, and then Maxine was peering out to sea, and moving round the deck. A burly figure on the other boat waved at her, almost carefree he seemed, whoever this man was.
And now Silver was walking away, then he turned back to her and said something else, and she was obviously crying now, pleading with him frenziedly, starting to look hysterical as she saw she had no way out. She paced back and forth across the tiny deck as the wind whipped up higher, chopping the water even more now; and she stumbled badly as the boat lurched once more.
The man on the speedboat, almost just a little match-stick man from where we stood, he was waving and gesturing more frantically too.
‘What’s the silly bugger doing?’ grunted Malloy, training his binoculars on the man. ‘He don’t seem to have a Scooby that he’s in big trouble if the baby’s with the blonde.’
And then, suddenly, all hell broke loose. Maxine turned from Silver and made a dash for it; she went diving awkwardly into the sea. As one, we all surged forwards. And, almost at the same time, Silver ran the other way and he grabbed a tatty plank lying between the lobster pots, and hurled it up to the boat. By some feat of genius, God knew how, he was up that precarious walkway, onto the deck. We couldn’t see where Maxine was now, she’d gone over the side away from us so she was hidden from the shore, and I was thinking, ‘This is it, thank God, this is it,’ and I broke into a run. I skirted the lumbering Malloy and dapper Glasses and left Deb behind, falling over my own feet, and I went down once into the grit, but got up again; my hand was bleeding now but I didn’t care because Louis must be in my sights—
And then Silver was backing down the deck, and there was someone else there on the boat. A figure standing just inside the cabin, so I couldn’t quite make them out. And Silver put his arms up in a sort of conciliatory way, and I realised, with my heart almost in my mouth, that the figure was pointing what could only be a gun, straight at Silver’s chest.
‘Stay there, Jess,’ he shouted, and I skidded to a halt at the foot of the plank. And the figure, who was wearing some sort of hooded cagoule, laughed and shouted back. And the tobacco and the mentions of seasickness, those little signs, those clues that had so eluded me, all spun together, came together in that one moment—and now finally I knew it. Who it was who’d stolen my son. So desperate for a baby she’d do anything—even sail right out to sea with him. I pictured her face as she opened the door of my sitting room and saw me sobbing on the floor above my bawling baby, and I remembered the fear that had crossed those benign features. It had been followed swiftly by something else, something fleeting that I’d shut out—but nevertheless it had been there. Anger. No, not even that. Jealousy.
‘Freddie,’ I gasped, but no one else could hear. The figure was talking again now, waving the gun at Silver.
‘No, tell her to come here. The rest, they can stop right where they are,’ and I felt the pack behind me slow down and stop, and I thought, I know that voice, and then she stepped outside onto the deck and I realised I’d been wrong. This woman moved elegantly, was much too slight of build. She wasn’t tall enough. It wasn’t Freddie at all…
‘Is Louis there? Have you got my son?’ I shouted, and my voice went kind of wobbly. How could I have been so wrong? It was my nemesis who’d taken Louis—of course it was. My rival in love and luck—the indomitable Agnes.
‘Maybe,’ she sneered, without looking at me. Her gaze was fixed on Silver, his gaze was on the gun. And then there was a terrible commotion in the water, and I could see Silver and Agnes both look down into the sea. The man on the spe
edboat was yelling now; I still wasn’t near enough to hear his words but I realised he was pointing frantically at the water, and Silver said to Agnes very calmly, ‘Let me just throw her the lifebelt, Agnes, okay?’ and Agnes curled her lip disdainfully, and said, ‘If she’s so stupid as to jump, she should pay the price, I think.’
Silver kept trying to cajole her, but she ignored him. He glanced at me, and I could have sworn he winked, just once, and then suddenly he dived into the sea.
‘For Christ’s sake, Silver,’ I yelled, but it was too late. Now he’d also vanished from my view. And Agnes trained the gun at me, and said icily, ‘If you ever want to see your son again, come here,’ and so I obeyed. I glanced down towards the road, and I saw the little huddle of coppers frozen there. Deb looked like she was going to cry. I turned my back on them, and walked the gangplank to my fate.
I didn’t care if she shot me dead; I didn’t care at all right then. I didn’t care about anything but seeing that Louis was still alive. The boat creaked and swung in the wind, and I tensed my feet against the tarry deck, and sought my sea-legs. The gulls were so bloody loud, it was almost impossible to hear much else, but I strained and strained to listen for my Louis.
‘Have you got him? Is he here?’ I demanded, as I faced her on the deck now. She looked terrible; her hair frizzed out beneath her cagoule hood, her face all smeared with engine-oil. Worse, a tic was going in her cheek, jumping up and down it was, uncontrollably. The gun she held was big and bulky, not an ordinary gun, but one to shoot distress flares from, I guessed.
‘Have you got my son?’ I asked again, a little louder now, and she shrugged almost nonchalantly, though defiance blazed in her flinty eyes.
‘Maybe, maybe not.’
‘For Christ’s sake, Agnes, stop playing silly-buggers. There’s no way out of this, you know.’
Perhaps I should have been more scared; rationally, I’m sure I should, as she stood there so deranged, cocking some old gun at me like she was Clint Eastwood. But an amazing sense of calm suddenly suffused me; the knowledge that I’d die gladly for my son—take any punishment I must. My heart was going so damn fast it almost hurt, but I could sense that Louis was near, I knew he was, and every maternal instinct I’d ever felt rang its bell; kept on ringing till I was almost deafened.
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