‘Neither did I, but they set up that fire and left me to burn. Whose side are you on?’
‘After everything that’s happened, you really need to ask?’
‘We’re so close to ending this.’ He winced. His migraine was coming at the worst of times. ‘Have you forgotten what they put me through? We finish this and start again.’
‘All right, all right,’ she replied. ‘Whatever you say.’
‘So you’re ready?’
‘I’m ready.’
‘Good. You know what to do.’
Luka had wanted Stuart to suffer, but Stuart hadn’t chosen the poison – fate had given him a helping hand. If he was fair, then Toby would be returned to him. But Luka was teaching him a lesson: that promises were often broken and life could be cruel. Unless DI Winter had superhuman powers, she would not be winning today. Like Ellen, Toby was as good as dead.
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
As she walked the route to Holland Park tube station, Amy used the time to reflect. She had declined the offer of a lift. The journey was short and she could not afford to be seen arriving with backup in tow. Safety evaluations had taken place and deemed her to be at low risk. Luka fed off her empathy. He would not cause her harm.
Above her, the sky was slate grey, the pavement edged with frost. She walked head first into the icy breeze, her heart burning with the need to bring Toby and Ellen home. Luka could prove to be slippery, disappearing into the ether from which he had come. She had made her wishes clear. No arrests until they had extracted Toby’s location.
Approaching the station, she stood at the traffic lights and surveyed the crowd. The sketch artist’s composite had been released just in time. Amy glanced at the beggar sitting on the pavement, his back against the tube station wall. He looked a little too clean for someone who lived outside. Was he undercover? What about the man tying his shoelaces at the entrance? She drew her gaze away. Luka could be watching too, and she didn’t want to bring attention to either of them.
Crossing the road, she stood on the pavement as a stream of pedestrians flowed around her. She checked her watch, tapping her right foot. The phone in her hand felt like a bomb about to detonate and she gripped it tightly as it rang. ‘DI Winter.’ Her words were sharp and to the point. ‘Where is Toby? I need to speak to him.’
‘What’s the rush?’ Luka replied. ‘Ellen is such an annoying, whiny child. I much prefer Toby. He’s quiet and insightful.’ He chuckled, but the laugh sounded bitter and forced. ‘At least I don’t have to worry about him running away.’
‘Ellen is?’ Amy picked up on his use of the present tense. ‘Is she with you? Can I speak to her?’
‘Careful,’ Luka replied, an edge to his voice. ‘If I hang up, then you’ll never find out. You don’t want that on your conscience, not with everything else you’ve done.’
‘We’re not here to talk about me.’ Amy lowered her head, imagining the look on her colleagues’ faces. Today, Pike had insisted she wear a recording device. They could hear every word.
‘We are if I say we are,’ Luka replied. ‘Because the way I see it, I’m the one in the driver’s seat.’ Another forced laugh. ‘There’s a clue there. Can you figure it out?’
Amy frowned. A clue? Is this how they were playing today’s game? At least she wasn’t alone. Right now, her colleagues would be unpicking everything he said.
‘We’re very alike, you and I,’ Luka continued. ‘Both of us have come back from the dead. How does it feel to resurrect Poppy Grimes?’
Amy stilled. Another clue. She had been right about Luka. Like her, he had shed his skin and become someone else. But when? How much of his life had been spent in captivity with someone else at the helm? They may have something in common, but she was dedicating her life to helping others. She was not like him at all.
‘What a contrast, your parents being serial killers and you a detective inspector in the police. The psychologists must be having a field day with it all.’
Each word dug like sharpened nails into her skin. She knew her colleagues would have thought the same thing. But this case had taught her that being different was not so bad. From now on, she would hone her skills, put them to good use by helping those unable to help themselves. It would not be easy taming Poppy Grimes, but she was no longer going to spend the rest of her life hiding her away.
‘Go to St Paul’s Cathedral,’ Luka said, issuing his next demand.
Amy stood firm. Two children were in danger. She would not be Luka’s puppet anymore. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Not until I know Ellen and Toby are safe.’
‘Take the Central line eastbound . . .’ Luka continued, ignoring her outburst.
‘I said no!’ Amy shouted, attracting the glance of a passer-by as she raised her voice. But the shopper did not register on Amy’s radar. ‘I saw the blood on Ellen’s nightdress. Is she dead? What have you done with her?’
‘Ellen’s with Toby. But if you don’t believe me, then to hell with you.’ His words were followed by silence as he ended the call.
Immediately, Amy’s police radio beeped as she was alerted to another call. It was Pike, her tone shrill as she voiced her disapproval. ‘Why didn’t you stick to protocol? What have you done?’
‘He’ll call back. I’m sure of it,’ Amy said. ‘He’s planned for this. He won’t hurt those kids until he’s had his fun.’ She’d thought long and hard about what she was going to say. No longer would she take his demands lying down. The beep of her mobile phone signalled a picture message from an unknown number. Her hand fell to her chest as she exhaled in relief. It was Toby and Ellen, playing Lego together. There was no way of knowing when the picture had been taken, but at least it was proof that Ellen had still been alive after her nightdress was found. ‘Go,’ Pike said, as Amy described the photo. ‘Don’t wait another second. Go and bring those kids home.’
Amy glanced around the tube carriage and took a vacant seat. Next to her, a silver-haired woman murmured under her breath about her daughter, fretting over her choice of men. But she was easily in her sixties. Was that what it was like when you had kids? How was Stuart coping, knowing his child’s life was in someone else’s hands? It was a terrifying prospect that such a helpless child was so heavily reliant on Amy and her team. Her thoughts raked over the embers of Luka’s call. What did he mean about being in the driver’s seat? Was he talking about Toby? Perhaps he was in a car, or on a fairground ride? What sort of situation involved a race against time?
She reached St Paul’s Cathedral, the January winds chilling her face as she scanned the street for signs. Fifteen minutes had passed. How much time did she have left? In a way, this was easier than before, as she didn’t have to continually update base. This operation had trebled in size since it began, and there were a lot more officers on the ground.
Her phone rang. It was Luka. ‘I see you made it. Nice suit, by the way. Very sharp. I prefer it to that flowery blouse you had on the other day.’
Amy’s eyes narrowed. Luka was here, in the crowd. But where were the children?
‘St Paul’s Cathedral is the last place I visited as Luka. Everything changed after that.’
‘Why are you telling me this?’ Amy said, changing tack. ‘Throwing another pity party for one?’
‘Who are you to judge me, with your past?’ Luka snapped. ‘We’re all entitled to start again. You joined the police to run away from what your parents did.’
But this time Luka’s words were failing to hit their mark. ‘There’s a paperwork trail of my reinvention,’ Amy said. ‘My time in social care. Adoption records. What happened to you? Where have you been hiding all these years?’ Amy danced around the subject of his mother, hoping he would let something slip.
Luka exhaled an exasperated sigh. ‘It’s too late to explain now. Putting things right is the only way to leave Luka behind.’
‘Kidnapping vulnerable children is hardly putting things right.’
‘I’m giving them up – it’s down to y
ou to get there on time.’
‘How am I meant to do that? I need an address.’ She held her breath as he considered her words.
‘OK, I’ll tell you where they are. One last journey. Who knows, if you find them, maybe it will undo some of the harm printed about you in the papers.’
Amy’s pulse quickened. Had she made a breakthrough? Dare she hope he was going to help her find the children in time?
CHAPTER SIXTY
The Curtis Institute, February 1985
Standing in Sasha’s doorway, Deborah watched the scene unfold. It was bad enough that Luka had escaped from his room. The last thing she had wanted was for him to find his mother in such a state. The woman was suffering a mental breakdown. It happened sometimes with people when they were left too long with their thoughts. Deborah had not told Luka that his mother had sneaked a pair of scissors into her room and had used them to hack off her hair. And now he was here, as white as chalk as he took the scene in. No wonder he thought Sasha was being mistreated – but, in truth, she had done it to herself. They’d had no choice but to sedate her as they worked out their next steps. Besides, as Dr Curtis had said, Sasha knew far too much for her own good.
‘Let me go!’ Luka squealed, trying to dodge Deborah in the doorway. But Deborah had not come this far for things to end like this.
‘Hey, what are you doing?’ she said, wrestling him into her arms. ‘Luka, wait. I’m not the enemy here.’
‘Let me go!’ Luka cried for a second time, squirming in her grasp.
Sasha craned her head in their direction and Deborah caught the spark of defiance still lurking behind her eyes. Somewhere within her drug-induced state, Sasha was screaming to get out.
‘Luka, calm down,’ Deborah said firmly. ‘You’re upsetting your mother. You know she’s not well.’
‘That’s your fault,’ Luka huffed, breaking free of Deborah’s grip. ‘You did this to her!’ From the corridor, Stuart and Christina approached.
‘I take it these are yours?’ Deborah said, extracting the bunch of keys from the door and waving them under Christina’s nose.
Extending her palm, Christina took them into her possession. ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled. ‘I only put them down for a minute.’ She glared at Luka with ill-concealed contempt. ‘Do you want me to take him back to his room?’
‘I’ll take care of it,’ Deborah said, rubbing the little boy’s back as he calmed down. ‘You should have finished your shift hours ago.’
Christina flushed, exchanging a glance with Stuart. ‘I . . . I stayed on to look for my keys.’
‘C’mon,’ Deborah said to Luka. He gave his mama one last wistful glance before being led away.
‘Where are you taking him?’ Christina said, as Deborah led him towards the fire doors.
‘Outside, to my car. Don’t worry, we won’t be long.’
‘But you can’t . . . he’s my responsibility.’
‘Like your keys were your responsibility?’ Deborah placed one hand on her hip. ‘Would you like me to call Dr Curtis? See what he thinks of all this?’ She was met with silence. ‘I didn’t think so.’
Luka inhaled a lungful of cool night air as they walked across the car park. Turning his face to the sky, he sought out the moon, sighing as it came into view.
Deborah wondered if he was thinking about his father; he had not heard from him in so long. It was cruel to keep them apart, but she was trying to do the right thing. Sitting in the safety of her car, she did her best to reassure him. Time outside was what Luka needed, a brief change of scene. She had to show willing if he was to trust her again. She allowed him his outpouring, listened as he relayed his concerns.
‘It ends tomorrow night,’ she said calmly. ‘That’s when you’ll leave this place for good.’
Luka’s eyes narrowed with mistrust. ‘You promise? And Mama too?’
‘I won’t just promise.’ She looked at him solemnly. ‘I swear on my life. This ends tomorrow – for your mother too.’
Dr Curtis’s voice was thick with sleep as he answered the phone. ‘Hello? What’s wrong?’
‘It’s Luka.’ Deborah’s tone was flat, her emotion spent after getting the boy back to bed and staying until he fell asleep.
‘And it can’t wait until the morning? What time is it?’ His voice drew away as he murmured to his wife, ‘Go back to sleep. I’ll take this in the study.’
Deborah gathered the courage needed to deal with what lay ahead. ‘He stole a set of keys and made it as far as Sasha’s room. It’s only down to me that they didn’t escape.’ A wave of sadness fell as she thought about Luka, asleep in bed. He trusted her. Could she betray him like this?
On the other end of the line she heard the creak of a door closing. Of the phone being cupped close to Curtis’s mouth. ‘We’ll have to bring forward the fire,’ he said, his words level and low. He had discussed it twice with her this week, how he had planned to erase his past mistakes. Sasha had discovered their secret; and, with the drugs infiltrating his system, it was a miracle Luka had survived this long.
‘Leave it to me. You can’t risk getting involved,’ Deborah replied. ‘You have copies of everything, don’t you?’ She was talking about his studies and the reports that were fit to be made public.
‘Of course. Are you sure you’re up to it?’
‘Tomorrow night. No survivors. Make sure you have an alibi.’ There was an audible click as Deborah swallowed, easing the tightness in her throat.
‘Very well.’ The doctor spoke on the exhale, uttering the two words that would bind them together for decades to come. ‘We’ll speak in the morning, go over the fine details one more time.’
Leaning back in her seat, Deborah felt her muscles relax. She was in control. Everything was going to be OK. She had told Luka he and his mother would be leaving the institute. She hadn’t promised they would be alive.
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
One last journey, he’d told her. Amy contemplated Luka’s words during her tube ride to Tower Hill. A quick liaison with her colleagues had informed her that they were working hard behind the scenes. An undercover crew was already awaiting her arrival but Amy’s thoughts were laced with dread. Her stomach growled, reminding her it had not yet been fed. She reached into her pocket, plucking out the protein bar she had fished from her office drawer before she left. She barely noticed the taste, chewing automatically as she mentally ticked through their actions to date.
DC Gary Wilkes was at the care home, talking to the funeral director responsible for cremating Sasha and her son. Molly had been tasked with speaking to Luka’s father using an interpreter via LanguageLine, now they had got him to a phone. Her updates to Amy had come as text messages as she relayed snippets of their conversation. But what had he been told about Luka’s death? Had he travelled here all those years ago? Grieved for his wife and son? Scrunching up the wrapper, she shoved it deep into her pocket, ready to depart at the next stop. The carriages were getting busy, with people escaping the city streets. If she never took another tube, it would be too soon.
As she came up the escalators, Amy’s phone informed her of a voicemail. It must have been urgent for Molly to call. She listened to her update. Her words were used sparingly, conscious that she must not tie up the line for very long. As she drew the phone away from her face, Amy closed her eyes briefly and willed some positive vibes to come her way. Please God, she thought, praying to anyone that would listen. I’ll go to church, donate to charity, but please make this come good.
As her phone rang, she directed all of her focus to the call.
‘So, you’re here, but I’m sorry. You’re probably too late.’ It was Luka, sounding pained.
Amy’s pulse picked up speed as she surveyed the crowd. She could hear traffic in the background. A car beeped across from her, and through the receiver of her phone. Goosebumps prickled on her skin as she realised he was near.
‘I’ve done everything you asked,’ she said, feeling breathless with emotion. ‘
Where are the children?’
An edge of misery mounted in Luka’s voice. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t help you. I’ve got to go.’
‘Got to go? What the hell?’ Amy screamed down the phone.
‘It’s over. I can’t deal with this anymore. The pain. It’s coming back. I need to lie down somewhere dark. I’m not strong enough to see this through.’
‘What would your father think?’ Amy said, watching a man across the road. There was something about the way he was slightly crouched, holding his hand to his forehead. His peaked hat only partially disguised his face. As he turned to face Amy, she caught sight of his features before averting her eyes. It was the man in the artist’s sketch. And she was not the only person who had noticed him. Two men in bomber jackets were drawing near. Tall and muscular, one of them put a hand to his ear. They were listening to instructions. But who was issuing them? Not yet, Amy thought. Wait. Hold back. Her eyes flicked to a woman in Lycra jogging on the spot. Her head was bowed. Was she undercover too? Her footsteps stalled as she approached him.
‘My father’s dead,’ Luka replied, after a long pause.
‘Then how has my colleague spoken to him today? Ivan’s alive, Luka, and he wants to talk to you.’
‘No . . . he can’t be. I . . .’ A sharp intake of breath. Standing across the road, Luka returned his hand to his head.
‘He knows about Ellen and Toby. He wants you to let them go. He spoke in Russian. He said the real Luka would never harm a living soul.’ Silence. Amy had one last shot at making this work. ‘I’m telling you the truth. There was something he said. Something that only you would understand.’ Amy watched as Luka leaned into his phone. Watched as the police gained ground. Not yet. It’s too soon. ‘He said this was not the time to make your silence a source of strength.’
‘Yes,’ Luka sniffled. ‘It was something he said to Mama before she left. And he’s alive? He’s really alive?’
‘Yes. He wants to see you. He doesn’t care about what you’ve done, as long as you let the children go.’ The last sentence came from her, but time was running out. She needed answers fast.
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