The Stretch (Stephen Leather Thrillers)

by Stephen Leather

  ‘He shouted and stamped his feet a bit,’ laughed Trisha.

  ‘Yeah, but it’s not like we didn’t give him reason to,’ said Laura.

  They smiled at each other. ‘He’s okay, I guess,’ said Trisha.

  ‘Yeah, he loves Mum to bits.’

  ‘He walked out on her,’ said Trisha, defensive again.

  ‘She threw him out,’ said Laura. ‘Doesn’t mean they don’t love each other.’

  ‘You think?’

  Laura ruffled her sister’s hair. ‘Drink your cocoa.’

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  Sam and Terry walked hand in hand through the square, the moon above almost full. It was a warm night and Terry had slung his jacket over his shoulder. The air was heavy with the smell of oranges from the orchards at the edge of the village.

  Terry raised Sam’s hand to his lips and kissed it softly. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked.

  Sam nodded. ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For the meal. For bringing me along.’

  Two teenagers walked past them, arm in arm. She had long blonde hair and was laughing and resting her head on her boyfriend’s shoulder. He had black curly hair and tight jeans and stroked her arm as they walked. Sam smiled at the two lovers. The girl couldn’t have been much older than Trisha. She snuggled against Terry.

  ‘It’s almost like it used to be, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘Dinner, champagne, a moonlit walk . . .’

  ‘ . . . and bed?’ Terry continued for her.

  She pinched him and laughed. ‘You’ve a one-track mind, Terry Greene.’ Ahead of them was a pretty stone-built church with a square bell tower. ‘Look at that,’ said Sam. ‘It must be hundreds of years of old. Do you want to go inside?’

  ‘In a church?’ said Terry, pretending to be shocked. ‘Now who’s got a one-track mind?’

  ‘I meant have a look around,’ said Sam, ‘and you know I did.’

  Terry grinned. ‘Yeah, come on.’

  They walked into the church. It was cool and peaceful, with high vaulted ceilings and pink-painted walls. The lines of oak pews were worn shiny smooth from generations of worshippers. They walked hand in hand towards the altar.

  Sam looked across at Terry. He was smiling and his eyes glinted as he looked at her.

  ‘I was just thinking, it’s like our wedding,’ said Sam.

  Terry nodded. ‘That’s what I was thinking, too. Takes you back, doesn’t it?’

  ‘We had poached salmon, didn’t we? Salmon in a watercress sauce.’

  Terry frowned. ‘What made you say that?’

  Sam sighed. ‘It was something Grace said. Last time I saw her.’

  Terry put his arm around her. ‘I miss her,’ he said.

  ‘Yeah. Me too,’ said Sam. She gave his arm a small squeeze. ‘I want to light a candle.’

  Terry took his arm away and she went over to a side table where more than two dozen small candles flickered in front of a painting of the Virgin Mary. She took a fresh candle, lit it, and then stood with her eyes closed for almost a full minute while Terry watched.

  She opened her eyes and smiled.

  ‘So what did you wish for?’ asked Terry.

  ‘That’s birthday candles. You don’t ask for wishes in a church. You ask for forgiveness.’ She looked at him steadily. ‘Anything you want to confess?’

  Terry grinned. ‘Not without my brief present.’

  Sam smiled thinly and nodded to herself. She walked over to the front pew and sat down. Terry sat next to her.

  ‘Are you being honest with me, Terry?’ asked Sam.

  ‘About what?’

  Sam shook her head sadly. ‘That’s the wrong answer,’ she said. ‘You’re either being honest or you’re not. It’s like being pregnant. No half measures.’

  ‘Always with the trick questions,’ said Terry.

  ‘Always with the evasive answers,’ said Sam.

  Terry looked at her seriously. ‘I’m being up front, love,’ he said. ‘A new leaf. A new life.’

  Sam looked at him, wondering if he was telling the truth. She stared into his blue eyes for so long that she started to feel dizzy.

  ‘You know I killed Snow, don’t you?’ he said eventually, his voice dull and flat.

  At first Sam couldn’t believe what he’d said. She frowned, going through the words, making certain that she hadn’t misunderstood.

  Terry continued to stare at her. ‘And you know about Alicia.’

  Sam’s eyes hardened. She felt a cold chill run down her spine. It wasn’t fear. Or horror. It was anger. A cold fury that she had to fight to keep under control.

  ‘She didn’t mean anything,’ said Terry. ‘She didn’t then and she doesn’t now. I’m not even sure that the kid’s mine.’

  ‘It’s got your eyes,’ said Sam. She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘You shouldn’t have lied,’ she said. ‘If you’d told me the truth, maybe . . .’ She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.

  Terry tried to take her hand but Sam pulled it away. She didn’t want him touching her.

  ‘It was self defence,’ said Terry earnestly.

  ‘Of course it was,’ said Sam, her voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘And Morrison? That was self defence, too?’

  ‘He tried to kill me, Sam.’

  ‘Who? Snow or Morrison?’

  ‘Give me a break, will you, Sam? I’m trying to be honest with you here.’

  ‘Trying? It’s an effort, is it?’

  Terry growled and sat facing forward. They sat in silence. There was a noise behind them and Sam turned to see an old woman kneeling at the back of the church, her face lined like old parchment, her head covered in a black scarf. ‘He was on my back for weeks,’ said Terry quietly. ‘He’d found out about the kid and said he wanted money. Said if I didn’t pay up he’d tell you about Alicia and the baby. Maybe even go to the papers. Kept going on about me stealing his wife from him and that I owed him. It was bollocks, she was going to leave him anyway but he wouldn’t listen. Said if I gave him ten grand he’d disappear.’

  ‘And you believed him?’

  ‘I figured it was worth a try. I didn’t want you hurt, Sam. Honest to God I didn’t.’

  ‘Oh, this was all for me, was it? Why do I find that hard to believe?’

  ‘This is God’s truth, Sam.’

  ‘You took a gun with you, though. Didn’t you?’

  ‘That’s what I’m saying, I didn’t. I took the money and that was it. I went there to pay him off. Okay, I was going to get heavy and tell him that it was a one-off payment, that if I ever heard from him again his life wouldn’t be worth living, but no way was I carrying a shooter.’

  Terry sighed and ran his hands through his hair. He leant forward, his fingers interlinked, almost as if he was praying.

  ‘I took him the ten grand, but he said it wasn’t enough,’ whispered Terry. ‘He was as high as a kite. God knows what he was on. He pulled a gun and started waving it around. I grabbed for it. It went off.’

  ‘You shot him?’

  ‘It went off, Sam. We were both holding it. It all happened really quickly, but I think his finger was on the trigger.’

  ‘You think?’

  ‘It’s a blur, Sam. I’m not going to lie to you. Anyway, he dropped the gun and went running through the house like a headless chicken. I don’t think he was too badly hurt.’

  ‘He was shot.’

  ‘It was a twenty-two. Small calibre. There wasn’t that much blood.’

  ‘Oh, that’s all right, then.’

  Terry put a hand on Sam’s knee but she pushed it away. ‘Sam . . .’ he protested.

  ‘He was shot twice, Terry,’ she said coldly.

  ‘He went running up stairs, banging off the walls, like he didn’t know what he was doing. I went after him. To see what sort of state he was in. He got to a bedroom and started rifling through drawers, looking for something. Then he passed out. Slumped on the floor. I walked up to him, thou
ght maybe he was dead. He wasn’t. He was still breathing. So I went to call an ambulance.’

  ‘Very public spirited of you,’ said Sam.

  ‘Sam, I’m trying to tell you what happened.’

  ‘Are you, Terry?’ snapped Sam. ‘Are you? Or are you trying to make yourself out to be the Good Samaritan here?’

  ‘I was leaving, Sam. I was on my way out. I was going to call an ambulance, cross my heart.’

  ‘So what happened?’

  ‘He had another gun. He came around as I walked away. Grabbed another gun from somewhere and let me have it. Damn near blew my head off He held up his right hand, thumb and first finger an inch apart. ‘He missed me by this much, Sam. This much.’ He rested his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward. ‘I still had his gun in my hand. I shot him. It was instinctive, Sam, I didn’t think about it, didn’t even know what I was doing. He shot at me, I turned and shot him.’

  ‘In the head?’

  ‘I wasn’t aiming, Sam. I wasn’t trying to kill him. I just wanted him to stop shooting at me. You’ve got to believe me, it was self defence.’

  Terry sat back in the pew and waited for Sam to speak. The old woman at the back of the church grunted as she stood up. She crossed herself and left.

  ‘Why are you telling me this now, Terry?’

  ‘Thought I’d clear the air. Turn over a new leaf and that. Start as we mean to go on.’

  He sat up straight and looked Sam in the eye. ‘I’ve changed, Sam. Cross my heart.’

  He reached across to hold her hand. Sam let him and they sat together, staring at the altar, hand in hand.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  Terry crawled into the van and inspected the compartment that the mechanics had built into the base of the vehicle. It was about three feet wide, five feet long and three inches deep. He nodded appreciatively. ‘Tidy work, Micky,’ he said.

  Micky Fox was standing at the back of the van, holding a bottle of San Miguel. ‘Yeah, they’re good lads. Used to shoe horses at the bullfighting stadium.’

  Terry crawled out of the van. He’d already checked the other two white vans, and Oskar was supervising Fletcher, Ryser and Pike as they filled the compartments with plastic-wrapped packages. The heroin. Sam was watching, and McKinley stood next to her, his arms behind him like an undertaker at a funeral.

  ‘You’re sure about this, Terry?’ asked Fox. ‘You’re just going to drive them through Customs?’

  ‘I’m not, Micky. Sam and I are flying back this afternoon. Kim and the boys’ll drive the vans back.’

  ‘They’ve got more balls than me, I can tell you.’

  ‘Nah, it’s going to be a piece of cake,’ said Terry. ‘They’ll fill up the vans with cheap booze in Calais then drive over on the ferry. Customs won’t give them a second look. They’ll be one of thousands of day-trippers carrying booze. If they do get stopped, worst that’ll happen is that we’ll get done for the booze. They won’t be looking for gear.’

  Fox looked over at Sam and she smiled and shrugged. ‘My husband assures me that he knows what he’s doing,’ she said.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  Sam and Terry got back to Heathrow early in the evening. McKinley had driven them to the airport in Malaga in the BMW before heading off on the long drive back to London. They walked through the terminal and queued for a black cab.

  ‘Are you nervous?’ Sam asked, as they settled into the back of the taxi.

  ‘It’ll be fine,’ said Terry. ‘They’ve done the booze runs a thousand times and the vans have never been searched.’

  ‘My heart won’t stop pounding,’ said Sam. ‘It’s like everyone’s looking at me and they know what I’ve done. I almost died when the immigration officer checked my passport.’

  Terry took her hand. ‘It’ll soon be over. Then it’s straight and narrow.’

  ‘I hope so, Terry.’

  When the taxi dropped them outside the house, Terry put his arms around Sam and gave her a hug. ‘Can I borrow the Saab?’ he said, nibbling her ear.

  Sam pushed him away. ‘Terry, we’ve only just got back.’

  ‘It’s business, love.’

  ‘Trisha and Laura will want to see you.’

  ‘I know, but I’ve got something to take care of first.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Business.’

  ‘What sort of business, Terry?’

  ‘Best you don’t know, love.’

  ‘I thought we were partners in crime?’

  Terry laughed. He let go of her and held out his hand. ‘Come on, give me the keys and stop messing about.’

  Sam sighed in exasperation, then handed over her car keys. Terry kissed her on the cheek and went to the Saab.

  Sam let herself into the house. ‘It’s me,’ she called.

  ‘We’re in the kitchen!’ shouted Laura.

  Trisha and Laura were eating pasta at the kitchen table. ‘How was the second honeymoon?’ asked Laura.

  Sam smiled. ‘Bit quieter than the first,’ she said, putting her bag down.

  ‘Where’s Dad?’ asked Trisha.

  ‘He’s got work to do.’

  Trisha pulled a face.

  ‘Any of that pasta going spare?’ asked Sam.

  ‘Sure,’ said Laura. She got up and busied herself at the cooker.

  Sam sat down and took a drink from Trisha’s glass of milk. ‘How’d you feel about moving to Spain?’ she asked.

  ‘What?’ said Trisha, putting down her fork.

  Laura turned around, a look of astonishment on her face. ‘Mum?’

  ‘I was just thinking, that’s all.’

  ‘I thought you hated Spain,’ said Laura.

  ‘Not the place. Just the fact that we always meet up with your dad’s friends when we’re over there, and they’re . . . an acquired taste.’

  ‘That’s putting it mildly,’ said Laura. She heaped pasta on to a plate and poured on tomato and mushroom sauce.

  ‘But I was thinking it’d make a change. Get away from the cold and the rain.’

  ‘What about school?’ asked Trisha.

  ‘There are schools in Spain. English schools.’

  Laura put the plate of pasta down on the table and gave Sam a fork. ‘How long have you been planning this?’ she asked.

  ‘I’ve not been planning anything,’ said Sam. ‘I’m just thinking, that’s all. There’s nothing really holding us here, is there? Not now that Grace has gone.’

  ‘And Jonathon’s out of the picture, is that what you mean? I’m on my own so I should move to Spain, is that it?’

  Sam reached over and patted Laura’s hand. ‘I just thought we could all do with some time in the sun, that’s all. Don’t read anything in to it.’

  ‘Is he going, is that it?’ sneered Trisha. ‘Dad’s running away to the Costa del Crime and we’ve got to go with him.’ She banged her fork on the table. ‘Jesus Christ.’

  ‘I meant you and Laura and me,’ said Sam patiently. ‘A new start.’

  ‘Without Dad?’ asked Trisha. She frowned and leaned forward. ‘Are you leaving him, Mum?’

  Sam shook her head. ‘You two can be a real pain at times. I was just asking if you fancied spending some time in the sun, that’s all. Forget I asked.’

  ‘I wouldn’t mind,’ said Laura. ‘Lie on the beach, get a tan. Yeah, I could go for that.’

  Trisha nodded. ‘Yeah, me too.’

  ‘What about Jamie?’ asked Laura.

  ‘I’ll talk to him. He’s got his degree to finish but he can come and spend holidays with us.’

  ‘You sure about this, Mum?’ asked Trisha.

  Sam nodded. ‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘Quite sure.’

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  Frank Welch opened his eyes and reached out for the ringing phone. ‘It’s me,’ said a voice.

  ‘Who?’ asked Welch sleepily.

  ‘Will you get a grip, Raquel.’ It was Blackie.

  Welch sat up in bed and squinted at his watch. ‘It’s four o’clock in
the morning.’

  ‘Well, fuck you very much,’ said Blackie. ‘If you don’t want the bust, I’ll give it to someone else.’

  ‘No!’ said Welch quickly. ‘It’s okay. I’m here. What’s happened?’

  Blackie didn’t say anything for a couple of seconds, and Welch thought that the connection had been cut, but then Blackie cleared his throat. ‘The vans have arrived back in the UK. Thought you should know.’

  ‘What about Greene?’

  ‘They got back yesterday. Both of them. Flew into Heathrow.’

  ‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me they were coming?’ asked Welch.

  ‘Because I don’t want you spooking them,’ said Blackie patiently. ‘They’ve got several vans and my snout doesn’t know which one the heroin’s in. But he does know where they’re divvying the gear up the day after tomorrow.’

  ‘Where?’ said Welch, his heart pounding. He reached over to pick up a pen from the bedside table.

  ‘My snout’s not going to tell me until he’s sure,’ said Blackie. ‘When he calls me, I’ll call you. Until then, keep your head down.’

  The line went dead. Welch sat where he was, cradling the phone. One more day and he’d have Terry Greene. And Samantha. The anticipation was almost unbearable.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  Terry was pacing up and down in the sitting room when his mobile phone rang. It was McKinley. ‘Bloody hell, McKinley, I was starting to think you’d got lost,’ said Terry.

  Sam walked in from the kitchen, taking off a pair of oven gloves. Terry gave her a thumbs-up.

  ‘We’re all here, Terry,’ said McKinley.

  ‘Got through Customs okay?’

  ‘Didn’t give us a second look.’ Terry beamed and gave Sam another thumbs-up.

  ‘Andy, you’re a star. Where are you now?’

  ‘The factory.’

  ‘Magic. Make sure the gizmo’s working. I’ll call Donovan and fix up the meet. You stay right there.’

  Terry cut the connection. He went over to Sam, picked her up off the ground and whirled her around. ‘It worked, love. We’re home and dry.’