by Mark Ayre
Ndidi was trying to make his face do something. Abbie pointed.
"Is that supposed to be righteous indignation?"
"You don't know what you're talking about," he said. "You're a vindictive, lying cow."
"Stop it. You're starting to sound like my mother."
Ndidi trembled. He turned left and right as though he knew he had to start pacing but was sure his fury would cause him to burst straight through a wall. He was trying to decide if he wanted to pulverise the wall between living room and neighbour's place or between living room and hallway.
Abbie rose from the armchair. Her gun remained at her side, clasped in a loose fist.
"You can call the police, and I'll tell them everything I've told you. You'll call me a liar, but will they believe you? They’ll realise how suspicious is it that Kilman turned down your plan and was shot hours later. Even if they lock me up and throw away the key, might they not also reject your proposal, just to be on the safe side? What would the kidnappers do then?"
Free fist clenching and unclenching on repeat, eyes shimmering, Ndidi began to shake his head. He let his phone-holding hand drop to his side.
"You're going to get my daughter killed."
Since standing from her chair, Abbie hadn't approached Ndidi. The gun remained by her side, and she still didn't intend to use it. She took a step to the left. The coffee table had been between her and Ndidi, and now there was nothing but carpet. When she moved, Ndidi flinched.
"That's the last thing I want," she said. "We're on the same side, working against Orion to save Isabella."
For the first time in a while, Ndidi forced himself to look up. Still trembling, he met her eye.
“You keep mentioning Orion. Who is that?"
Of course, Ndidi wouldn't know. The kidnappers would have offered no real names when they called. They wouldn't have given any unnecessary information. They didn't want to give Ndidi anything he might use to locate them. The Beckers had committed crimes all over the country. Still, there were hundreds of police stations and thousands of police detectives. There was no reason Ndidi would have heard of Margaret Becker or her children.
"I heard the shooter talking about his boss," said Abbie. "A man named Orion. I believe this to be Orion Becker, a high-profile criminal who features on many most-wanted lists. If he has your daughter, she's in far greater danger than you imagine. I don't say that to scare you, but because I need you to understand the gravity of the situation. You don't know or trust me, and why should you? But I protect people. I save people, and I can save Isabella. If you work with me."
Ndidi bit his lip, mulled this over, shook his head. Abbie fought the urge to sigh.
"I don't need you," he said. "By the end of tomorrow, my daughter and I will be reunited. This'll be over."
"You don't truly believe that, do you?" said Abbie. "You're Alice through the looking glass, now. Even if Orion hands over Isabella and buggers off once he has what he wants, what about the people in your station? You've seen the corruption, haven't you?"
Shaking his head in apparent denial, Ndidi said, "I have no reason to believe anyone in my station is on the take."
Now Abbie did sigh. "I don't know what to think about you, Ndidi. Maybe you are corrupt, working for Lucky Draw. It's also possible you're naive and genuinely believe your station is currently corruption-free. Instinct tells me neither is correct. I'd go out on a limb and say you aren't the bad guy; the actions you've taken are because of your daughter, but you know the rot has set in in your workplace. Do you truly know who you can trust?"
Ndidi's jaw was tight.
"There's more to this than I can see right now," Abbie pressed. "Lots of strands, begging to be pulled together, only I can't figure out how to make them fit into a coherent pattern. I don't know why you attacked Gary, but I know there's at least one corrupt uniform working at your station. That makes me think of Franks and Evans. Was it coincidence they were passing last night and happened to see our scuffle? I think about where we were, how far from the street, and the trees that shield the park from the road. One or the other of those police constables must have damn sharp eyes. Or maybe they were only feigning a random patrol. Maybe, in actual fact, they were watching someone. Someone they knew they would soon have to bring into the fold." Abbie let this sink in. "Were they watching you, Ndidi? was it really your idea to ask them and Gary to give false witness statements, or was it theirs?"
Ndidi kept his jaw tight and didn't try to open it. Still, his eyes gave away plenty, and Abbie was sure she was on the right lines. Becker and the police officers on his payroll had planned to use Ndidi; they needed to keep him out of trouble until they were ready to act.
"Maybe, when this is over, and you have Isabella back, you'll want to draw a line under everything," said Abbie. "But won't those bent officers, whoever they might be, start to worry? I'm sure they were corrupt before Orion came along, and they'll be bent once he's moved on to pastures new. More than anything, they'll want to keep out of jail, and the thing about corrupt officers is, they tend to go to greater lengths to get their way than does your average police officer."
It was clear Abbie had unnerved Ndidi, but he was still fighting against everything she had to say. Still shaking his head, and now he stepped forward.
"That's enough. I'm not talking to you anymore. Whatever will be after this is done, I don't care. For now, my daughter is everything."
"Then let me help," said Abbie.
"No."
And in that word, Abbie saw he wouldn't be moved. Not now, not tonight. He was fixed on his course of action, and nothing Abbie could say or do would change it.
Fine. Abbie had known getting something positive from this meeting would be a long shot. She still believed it had been a risk worth taking.
Ndidi had his phone again. He unlocked the screen.
From Abbie's back pocket, she withdrew a paperclip. Holding it in one hand, she raised the gun and aimed at Ndidi's chest with the other.
For the first time, he noted the weapon. His eyes widened.
"You're mad," he said.
"You look surprised," said Abbie. "Which is weird considering it was only minutes ago you accused me of being a cop killer. Is it possible you never believed that? Was it a porky?"
"Don't make this any worse for yourself," said Ndidi. "Put the gun down. You'll never escape."
But Abbie shook her head. "Sorry, you're in too deep. All you can think about is your daughter, and that's understandable, but she's my priority as well. You'll need my help to save her, and I can't do anything if I'm behind bars."
"So what," said Ndidi, "you'll kill me so you're free to try and save my daughter? I'm not sure she'll thank you."
"I won't kill you," said Abbie. "But if you don't do what I say, I'll put a bullet in each of your legs. It'll hurt. A lot."
Keeping the gun steady, Abbie offered the paper clip to the detective.
"There's a tiny hole on the side of your phone," she said. "Prod the end of the paperclip into it, and your SIM card will pop right out."
"You're not taking my SIM,” said Ndidi.
"Very astute, now do as your told."
He stared at her. His eyes were on the barrel of the gun, which was aiming at his chest. Not very persuasive when Abbie had already said she wouldn't kill him. She lowered her aim to his right knee.
"While we're young."
Still, he hesitated. When Abbie stepped forward, he got the message and grabbed the paperclip.
"You'll never get away with this," he said.
Abbie made a non-committal noise and looked across the room. There was a picture of Ndidi, a woman that had to be his wife, and Isabella, all three beaming. The smiles looked genuine.
"I'm sure you miss your daughter with all your heart," said Abbie. "I promise you'll see her again."
"I know," he said. "But not because of you."
The SIM case popped out of the phone. Before Ndidi could do anything, Abbie had grabb
ed the handset and yanked it from the detective's hands.
"Don't panic," she said as he squeaked. "I'm sure this is the phone the kidnappers will ring if they need to get in touch, and I don't want you to miss that. But I need a headstart before you call your copper mates on me. You understand."
Removing the SIM from the casing, Abbie rested it on her thumb, then flicked it as she might flip a coin. It sailed through the air and disappeared down the back of the sofa. Abbie dropped the casing to the floor and turned off the handset.
"Pretty soon," said Abbie, "I believe we're going to become allies. We'll work together to save your daughter. I'm looking forward to that."
"In fifteen years, when I'm watching my daughter graduate university, you'll still be rotting in a prison cell."
Abbie gave a contemplative nod.
"Maybe we'll both be right."
Ndidi said nothing. He was a ball of seething resentment, anger and worry.
"I am sorry about this," she said, handing over the phone.
He took the handset. Opened his mouth to spit some vile insult Abbie's way.
And she smashed her gun into his face, sending him spinning to the floor, blood spraying from his nose."
She closed her eyes, allowing guilt for the sudden attack to wash over her for two seconds and no more.
"Catch you in a bit," she said and rushed out the back door as fast as she could.
After all, she had another meeting to keep.
Twenty-Four
Abbie made the pickup. Exact time, exact place. The car had barely stopped when Abbie opened the door and dropped inside. Then they were off.
Ana's hands remained tight on the wheel as she drove. The strain of frustration and nervous energy on her face did nothing to diminish her beauty, which was annoying. Unfair. Abbie sometimes felt as though her lifestyle had aged her prematurely, though she still drew an eye or two. Not that it had ever mattered. Dating had been off the cards until she met Bobby, and he was different.
"I disposed of the evidence," said Ana as they drove. It took Abbie a few seconds to realise what she meant. Had they murdered someone? If so, Abbie had forgotten, which was alarming.
Then it clicked.
"The mugs?"
Ana nodded.
"Oh, for God's sake."
"I was careful not to touch anything else," said Ana. "You were reckless, as noted, but at least I’ll be free to represent you following your arrest. I won't be fighting my own conviction."
"You need to calm down," said Abbie. "Ndidi is busy worrying about his daughter and he’s afraid of what I might tell the police if they catch me. He won’t call his colleagues until all this is all over. Once it is, whether I was or was not in Ndidi's house will be the least of my worries. I'll be facing a murder charge."
Ana drove on. Their destination was a block of flats a ten-minute drive from Ndidi's place. Though it was unlikely the police were looking for Abbie's lawyer's car or that they would recognise it, Ana parked half a mile out. By the time they got out and closed their doors, the sun had given up on this late March day, and a half-moon had taken its place. There were probably police about, searching for Abbie, but they should be okay so long as they were careful.
As they made their way towards the flats, Ana spent more time checking for oncoming police than did Abbie.
"People who murder police officers tend not to stick around," said Abbie. "Most police resources will have gone into blocking the roads out of town. By now, they're probably concluding that I've escaped. They'll keep a presence locally but spend more time sending my face around to stations across the country, for wherever I turn up next.
Again, Abbie thought of Ben. Not for the first time, she wondered how he'd be dealing with this. It was easy to fall into the trap of telling herself if she'd had the strength to ditch Bobby, she wouldn't have the cops on her trail now. Of course, this wasn't true. Everything would have gone the same. Right now, Ben's teams would be working to mitigate the damage. Still, even the organisation that had so recently fired Abbie had its limits.
With Ben or without, when this was over, Abbie would always have had to face the music.
In some ways, that was comforting.
She wondered how long after her conviction Bobby would dump her. Then pushed that thought away. She had no use for it now.
They turned a corner, and the block of flats loomed over them. Another car passed, and Ana flinched.
"Are you sure this a good idea?" she asked as the car turned a corner, it's taillights disappearing.
"We need help," said Abbie. "Can't do it alone."
"Not what I meant."
Abbie looked at Ana then away. If the younger woman wanted to go on, she could, otherwise, whatever.
Ana went on.
"I mean, the police are all over this. Legions of people will be doing everything they can to bring Isabella home safely. What makes you think you can do better?"
"Because it's what I do," said Abbie. "If I have to get myself thrown in jail or even killed to save that child, that's what I'll do, because I believe I can help. I know I have something to offer when it comes to rescuing Isabella. So I have to try, but you don't have to stick around."
Ana looked as though she might have more to say on the subject, another rejection of the cause.
Instead, she said, "Yeah, I do."
Thirty seconds later, they pushed through a gate and took a straight path towards the block's front doors. These were locked, openable only by electronic key card. In other words, this was not a lock Abbie could pick.
Beside the door were two columns of buttons, each one labelled with a flat number. No names.
Earlier, while Abbie had been at the school, dodging bullets, being framed, saving Gary's life, Ana and Alice, her mother, had been busy. Before turning her back on crime in the lead up to her sixtieth birthday, Alice had spent most of her professional career as a gunrunner. Her life of crime had led to the accrual of many useful contacts. A lot of these people, bad people, had been cut away when Alice went legit. Many remained. One such contact had found several key addresses for Alice, who had passed them on to Ana, who had shared them with Abbie. One of these addresses had been Ndidi's. Another was flat thirteen of the block outside which the duo now stood.
"You know what to do?" Abbie asked.
Ana frowned. "I'm not a simpleton."
"That'll be a yes, will it?"
Sighing, Ana leaned forward and jabbed the button for flat thirteen. There was an electronic buzz that seemed to assault the silence, followed by quiet.
Ten seconds passed. Ana glanced to Abbie, asking the silent question.
Should I go again?
Abbie was preparing to nod her ascent when the silence was broken a second time. Rather than the electronic buzz, it was the crackle of an intercom, followed by a slightly distorted voice.
"Sorry, hello? Is someone still there?"
"Hi," said Ana. "Is that Christine Lakes?"
A pause. Long enough to suggest the homeowner was trying to decide whether to answer.
Then: "That's me. Who may I ask is speaking?"
Very polite, formal. A classic case of phone voice and speech. Abbie smiled as Ana continued.
"My name's Ariana Rayner. I'm a lawyer. We met earlier this morning at the police station, where you interviewed my client, Abagail King. Can I come up?"
A longer pause this time. Understandable.
Then: "Why?"
Ana looked at Abbie, who remained silent at Ana's side. They had been through numerous possible variations of this conversation in the car and planned responses for each. No more coaching was required.
"I take it you understand the police are currently seeking my client concerning a shooting that took place at a nearby, closed-down school?"
"You mean how they want to arrest her for the attempted murder, soon to be actual murder, of a police officer?" said Christine.
"You could put it like that," Ana said, as though
Christine's version wasn't the much more succinct and accurate description of events. "Either way, regarding this shooting, there are some things I’d like to discuss with you. If you could let me in—"
"I don't think that would be wise," cut in Christine. "If you have anything to say, you can go to the station and discuss it with the duty officer there. A detective or detectives will be called in to speak with you. My advice would be to bring your client. Abbie is in a lot of trouble right now, and evading police capture will only make things worse. Now, if you'll excuse me, it's my night off."
Ana looked at Abbie, and Abbie nodded. Christine's response wasn't surprising. Ana and Abbie had predicated the rebuttal almost word for word, and Ana was prepared.
"Three men and one woman, all armed, attacked you and Abbie at Davesh's dealership last night. Three of these assailants are no longer a problem, but one remains at large."
After Ana finished speaking, there was a long pause. The longest yet, as Christine considered.
"I don't think I should speak about that," said Christine. Abbie smiled. Based on her meeting with Kilman, Abbie had suspected that Christine bottled her confession. After leaving Abbie, she had gone home rather than to the station. Her response seemed to confirm this. She wouldn’t incriminate herself.
"The man who fled the dealership," Ana continued, "went on to shoot Detective Chief Inspector Kilman and witness Gary, the former of whom now fights for his life in hospital. Before this shooting, Kilman and my client shared information. They realised they had each been lured to the school. Gary lured Abbie while an unnamed uniformed police officer fed misinformation to DCI Kilman to get him to the same location. Alone. We don't know who this uniformed officer is, and we don't know who else at the station might be working for the wrong side. Given your position," pause to let this sink in, "my client felt you were possibly the only person we could trust."
Silence. They could neither see nor hear Christine, but Abbie got the sense that if Ana's words were the line, and the young detective was the fish, she was on the hook. More than mulling over Ana's words, Christine actively fought them as they dragged her towards the surface.