by P L Kane
‘Drummond,’ he whispered. So he had been involved in all this.
The mayor laughed again, but it was a cackle rather than that whiny noise this time. ‘Drummond? That simpleton. Why are you so obsessed with that man? I really don’t understand. He’s harmless or we would have done something about him ages ago. No, let me introduce you to someone now, Mr Radcliffe.’
A massive shape stepped past the light at that point, somebody who could easily have been mistaken for Drummond at a glance. Or in the shadows, as you were being attacked, thought Jake. But on second glance, or even third, there was absolutely no mistaking this fellow dressed in black for Drummond. His eyes, which darted around the place as if weighing everything up, were too keen – and his senses probably were as well. This was a trained man, and Jake had a feeling he knew what the guy was trained in.
‘This is Mr Ketley. He tidies things up for us when they go wrong, if there are any of those accidents I referred to earlier. You’ve met him before, but I can see you’re probably piecing that together right now. Yes, it was him you encountered here when you were snooping around. And how exactly did you find out about it? From Jordan somehow, I’m guessing? She wrote it down somewhere, didn’t she? This location? That’s how you had those numbers on you when you were arrested … Oh, and in case you were wondering, it was also Mr Ketley you encountered on the road. It was left up to him as to how he handled that, so I suppose he gave you one last chance. Now you have none left.’
A fixer, thought Jake. That’s what this man was. And he’d fixed their little problem with Jordan as well, hadn’t he? For the first time since all this began he started to wonder if Sam had been right, that Bobby Bannister was totally innocent. That he’d simply gone along to meet up with Jordan at the time they arranged, only to find her slumped back on a market stall with a knife sticking out of her chest.
‘And,’ continued the mayor, breaking into his thoughts, ‘it’s not a bad thing he resembles your arch-nemesis, seeing as we’re going to blame your demise on him. The halfwit getting his revenge and all that, eh Mr Ketley?’
The massive man nodded, but said nothing.
Jake spotted that Ketley’s hands were gloved, as he looked around and scooped up a piece of metal piping from the floor.
‘A spot of bashing the head in should do it, don’t you think?’ Another nod from the fixer.
Jake started to wriggle again, but had as much success as the last time. Then, panicking, his mind searched for possible ways out of this mess. That’s when he said: ‘People know what’s going on here! You won’t get away with this.’
‘Who? Who knows?’ The mayor looked about her, as if expecting an audience suddenly, then stuck out her bottom lip and shrugged. ‘Ah … I understand. You’re talking about the text to your friend, DC Newcomb?’
More panicking. They’d found his phone then, back at the farm – but he didn’t know whether the text had actually sent or not, whether he’d been able to get signal on the landing or even when he got downstairs again.
‘Now, I know what you’re thinking,’ said Sellars. ‘Did it send? Is he on the way with the cavalry? Well, I can answer the first question for you easily enough …’ She looked behind him now, past his shoulder, and Jake frowned. Then he heard someone stirring, someone who’d been so quiet up to now Jake hadn’t even known he was there.
Suddenly, another figure was walking past him. Bloody Channing, thought Jake – he was here after all. There wasn’t any confidence to the stride, though – if anything it was apologetic, hesitant. Seconds later, the man was standing with his back to Jake. He didn’t want to believe it, to believe his eyes, but when the figure turned around and faced him, he had no choice.
‘I’m sorry, Jake,’ said Matt, hardly able to even look at him.
Jake shook his head, even though the pain at the back was still there. ‘No … no, it can’t … Not you. Anyone but you!’
Didn’t know the bloke anymore. Not really.
‘I’m sorry,’ his friend repeated.
Far too shady a character …
‘So, you see, he did get your text after all,’ the mayor said with a smirk. ‘As for the second part of the question, is the cavalry on the way, DC Newcomb?’
He shook his head. ‘No. No cavalry.’
‘But … but you have a son, Matt. How …’
‘Don’t be too hard on him, Mr Newcomb. Remember what I said, even if they can’t be bought, everyone has a weak spot.’
His family, that had to be it. They were threatening Matt’s son, his wife … It was the only thing that made any sense. But that still didn’t excuse this, didn’t excuse Matt being involved – even indirectly – with the death of his daughter. ‘You bastard,’ was all he could muster.
Matt looked genuinely sad when he said that, as if he was disappointed that Jake couldn’t forgive him. ‘Look, you couldn’t possibly … I … You just don’t get it, you weren’t here. I did what I had to. What I thought was …’ But the words dried up, he was trying to defend the indefensible.
And now Jake had to wonder just how much of a part Matt had played in Jordan’s death. After all, Jake knew he wasn’t averse to bending the rules – smuggling him in to see Bannister, for example. And the CCTV in there! Channing’s remarks:
‘I’m assuming there’s no footage of what took place back there … You’re definitely not that stupid, Newcomb.’
‘So, it’s just the kid’s word against ours, right? Wouldn’t be the first time.’
They’d taken out the cameras at the market square as well, made it look like vandalism. It all got him wondering about the DS again. When Sellars had shaken her head, perhaps she’d only meant that it wasn’t Channing back behind the lights, it had been Ketley. Didn’t mean Channing wasn’t part of all this. How far did it all go, how deep?
‘What if … what if none of this had ever happened, eh?’
‘You fucking bastard,’ Jake repeated.
‘Now now, I warned you about your language before, didn’t I, Mr Radcliffe? And there’s really no need for name-calling. DC Newcomb didn’t know about Jordan’s … involvement with us until very recently,’ the mayor continued. ‘Did you?’
Matt said nothing, just hung his head.
He’d known about the rest of it, though. Didn’t get him off the hook – didn’t get any of them off the hook.
If only he was, though, Jake thought. Off this bloody hook so he could …
What? Do what? He was no match for Ketley, especially with Matt helping out … Matt? Christ!
Face it, Jake, you’re just as useless as you ever were. Just as much use to Jordan as you were back when you left. Just as much use to yourself.
‘It … it will be quick, right?’ asked Matt, looking from the mayor to Ketley and back again. ‘He won’t feel anything?’
‘Matt,’ said Jake. ‘Listen, you don’t have to do this. There’s still time …’
Time.
The policeman rounded on him: ‘There’s no time, Jake! Don’t you understand, there never was … Time’s run out!’ Matt calmed his breathing down. ‘You were so desperate for answers, you wanted the truth – well, now you have it. Now you know the truth … about all of us.’
In spite of himself, Jake shook his head once more.
‘As touching as all this is, time is ticking on and we can’t stay here all night.’ Sellars waved a hand for her fixer to step forward. ‘Mr Ketley, I believe you have some work to complete.’
Ketley nodded, gripped the piping more tightly. He approached Jake, who tried to swing back on the hook. The first didn’t get him very far, but the second swung him back far enough for him to get his legs and feet up – adrenaline coursing through him. Gave him enough momentum to swing forward and kick the huge man with the soles of both feet.
It was like kicking a rockface, the man barely moved an inch. Instead, he grabbed hold of Jake’s legs, wrapping his free arm around them, and lifted him up and off the hook. He landed on
the floor of the slaughterhouse with a thud, all the air exploding out of his body. Ketley let go of him, raised the piping. He had to make it look good, make it look like something Drummond could have done so he’d take the fall.
The simpleton, the boyfriend. All wrapped up in a nice little parcel with a bow on top. Like so many things that had probably been swept under the carpet, covered up or forgotten about. When all this had started, there wasn’t even the need – it was only in the era of records and systems of government or police forces that it had been necessary in the first place. All to keep Redmarket alive, while his daughter lay dying on a market stall.
Fuck that!
Jake rolled out of the way of the blow, and the piping connected with the floor – clattering uselessly.
‘Don’t fight it, Mr Radcliffe,’ the mayor advised. ‘You’re only making things harder for yourself. Though I suppose that’s what you’ve been doing all along, isn’t it.’
‘Go to hell!’ he managed, bringing up a foot and aiming for Ketley’s privates. He half-missed, half-hit his target but it didn’t seem to deter the man either way.
And then he was looming over Jake, piping aloft once more.
This was it, there was no more fighting it – not for Jordan, not even for himself. If he died, then at least he’d see her again … he hoped. Or would his punishment for not being there when she needed him be the opposite? The pitch black of oblivion?
There was no more time to think about it, no more time at all. Never had been, according to Matt.
The piping was coming down. As the mayor had rightly pointed out …
Jake was a dead man.
Chapter 27
Jake closed his eyes, hearing the crack of his skull as it was bashed in, but not feeling it.
He wondered why. Then Jake blinked his eyes open again and understood. Twice in the space of the last ten minutes or so, or however long it had taken Sellars to have the conversation with him (seemed like yet another blink of his eyes, but that was time again for you), he’d thought he was dead. Thought he might be sent on his way to be reunited with Jordan.
But that wasn’t going to happen, at least not yet, because he hadn’t had his head caved in at all. Looking up, he saw that Ketley had paused mid-lunge. Again, he wondered why. It was difficult to see at first, because his clothes were so dark – clothes that made it easy for him to blend into the shadows – but there was a wetness at his chest. Small at first, it bloomed and spread, then dripped.
A bit splashed on Jake’s cheek and it was warm, and some dripped off to the side of him. He risked a sideways glance and saw that, yes, it was red.
It was Ketley’s blood.
The man was turning now, reaching across to feel at the wound. There was another loud crack and this time Jake recognised it for what it was: a gunshot.
The cavalry, thought Jake; it had come after all. Maybe not because of the text, but for some other reason: information he wasn’t privy to at that moment. Didn’t matter, the only thing that did was the fact that Ketley now had two bullets in him.
Three! Because as he turned fully around, another one struck the man and this did force him back a little, caused him to shift sideways a fraction. Before he fell over sideways, crashing to the ground like some sort of demolished building. Revealing the person who had done this, the person standing there with a smoking pistol.
Matt.
‘It … it will be quick, right?’
Jake thought of the question, but Sellars was the one who said it out loud: ‘What are you doing?’
He didn’t answer her, and instead walked across to Jake, bending and putting his hand in his pocket to take out a small knife. Matt jammed the gun under his armpit and opened up the blade, then proceeded to cut the ties that were holding Jake’s wrists together.
Jake studied his face, trying to find some sort of explanation in it and failing. Before Matt could give him one, he was struck by something. The pipe that was meant for Jake’s head, whacked sideways into his instead. Matt rose, staggering, then dropped to his knees. The gun had fallen to the floor with a clatter and Jake scrabbled across for it.
Ketley, still bleeding from various places, was raising his weapon again – about to hit Matt a second time. Jake scooped up the pistol. He knew nothing about guns at all, other than this looked like an automatic. But it had been fired already so the safety probably wasn’t on … and there were probably more than three bullets in the clip. Jake aimed it at Ketley, but froze. He’d never shot a gun before, let alone shot a person. Those action movies he kept thinking about made it look so easy, but when push came to shove it really wasn’t.
That hesitation cost Matt dearly, the pipe descending and catching him a glancing blow off the forehead.
What’s wrong with you? That’s the man who more than likely killed your daughter, thought Jake. That was it, enough motivation to do this. He squeezed the trigger, not once but twice.
One of the bullets missed completely, but Ketley was too large a target for both to do the same. It struck him in the neck, a fountain of blood jetting out. The big man dropped the pipe and staggered about, clutching his throat before collapsing yet again.
Jake crawled over to where Matt lay; there was blood pouring from his head wounds, but he was still pointing at something beyond them both, trying to speak. In the end he managed to get one hushed word out: ‘Mayor.’
Looking over his shoulder, Jake saw Sellars had gone; heard her footsteps as she made a run for it. He nodded, rising at the same time and going over to the free-standing lights. Jake turned one around and started scanning the space ahead for the woman, like prison guards looking for an escaped convict or searchlights looking for bombers during the war.
He caught the back of her disappearing around a corner, heading for the doorway – and Jake gave chase. Running as best he could, his feet still numb from hanging above the ground, he got to the place where he’d last seen the mayor and rounded the corner …
Only for her to come flying out at him. Jake hadn’t been expecting that at all, thought he’d be chasing her down the driveway to this place in the pitch black. Instead, here was the small woman raking his cheek with her nails, then trying to wrestle the gun from his grip. She still wanted to end this, fixer or no fixer. Wanted to see Jake dead. That was why she’d come along personally …
She was also a lot stronger than she looked, and Jake found himself being forced backwards, her snarling face inches from his own. Sellars was like a thing possessed, a million miles away from the smart businesswoman he’d visited that afternoon – cool, calm and collected. Now everything in her world was under threat and he saw the real mayor come out, vicious and primal. She was still grabbing for the gun in his hand, forcing it up, then down.
And it was at this point it went off again. Both of them paused, neither knowing who’d been shot – if indeed anyone had. But it was the mayor who let go now, screaming out in pain, hopping backwards before losing her footing and crumpling to a heap. The material of her trousers was torn, and seconds later it was wet, blood pumping out of her thigh.
She clutched at it, shouting obscenities at him. Now who needed to watch their language! Jake gritted his teeth, stepped forward and raised the gun so that it was in line with her head. At this range he couldn’t possibly miss.
‘Nobody would know,’ he said to her. ‘In the struggle, it just went off again. One in the leg, one … Nobody would know.’ He wasn’t sure whether he was trying to convince her or himself. Sellars’ expression changed; she was no longer the one in control and she looked scared. Could obviously see the determination in his eyes, light from the lamps reflecting off them. See the hatred he was feeling boiling away inside.
His finger was twitching on the trigger, about to pull it when he saw movement. Something out of the corner of his eye, a figure … At first he thought the mayor must have brought more people, that the guys from the farm had tagged along after all. That she was trying to reach them when she
escaped. But why attack him herself if that was the case? Why not leave him to them?
As the figure stepped closer, stepped into the light from the shadows, he saw exactly why.
It was Jordan, appearing as she had done in his hotel, in the cell at Redmarket station. Pale and wan, exactly as she had been in the morgue. Jake’s mouth dropped open and he blinked. ‘Sweetheart …?’
Sellars frowned, looked back to where he was staring, then returned her gaze to Jake, confused.
But the girl was definitely there … wasn’t she? Had come to a stop not three feet behind the mayor. And she was shaking her head, just like she’d done the previous times he’d seen her. ‘I don’t know what …’
Jordan shook her head again and pointed, just like Matt had done to warn him the woman was running off in the first place. Now he knew what she was getting at, what she wanted him to understand. Jake blinked, nodded and looked down at Sellars. When he looked back up again, Jordan was gone. But then her message had been delivered, hadn’t it.
‘My daughter wouldn’t have wanted me to kill you,’ he said to Sellars, who was still looking baffled. ‘It’s too good for you, too … quick. You should be punished for what you’ve done.’
‘Fuck you!’ Sellars growled at him.
Jake reached down and grabbed her by the collar, dragged her back across the floor of the abattoir. Back to where Matt and Ketley lay; there had already been enough bloodshed in this place, and not just that night.
He dropped the woman next to them and looked over at the man who’d saved him, the man who’d also been involved in all this. He was unconscious, head covered in redness.
Jake checked the pocket Matt usually kept his phone in and found it straight away. It was locked, but there was the emergency call option on the screen. There was also a decent signal, just like there had been when he’d been here with Sam. Jake pressed it, saw 999 come up – but also saw the mayor grinning.