Silvermeadow

22

K athy spoke slowly and clearly. ‘I’m a police officer. I’ll show you my warrant card.’

She made to reach into her pocket, but North raised a warning hand and she froze.

‘What’s your name?’

She had heard people mention the soft, sibilant voice that reinforced the impression he was under the influence of something even when he wasn’t.

‘DS Kolla.’

‘Division?’

‘Serious Crime. With DCI Brock.’

Without the heavy-rimmed glasses he looked much more like the North of the earlier pictures, slightly dreamy eyes pinched together, cruel mouth. At the mention of Brock’s name he blinked and stared more fixedly at Kathy.

‘Is he here too?’

Kathy hesitated and saw the eyes focus threateningly.

‘No, he’s not here at the moment.’

‘Who else is with you?’

‘No one. Just us. At the moment.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means I’m supposed to report in.’

The mouth formed a thin smile. ‘Sure. Who’s he?’

‘He’s-’

‘Now look!’ Orr interrupted, becoming incensed that someone he took to be a maintenance mechanic, dressed in tracksuit and trainers, should have the presumption to question a police officer in this way. ‘You show a bit of respect, sir!’

‘Robbie…’ Kathy said warningly, remembering all she had been told about North. If she could just keep things calm for ten or fifteen minutes, Sharon would have told Brock, who would surely come. But Orr was waving his hand imperiously at her as he continued to address North in his most pompous classroom manner.

‘I am Professor Robbie Orr, and I am an archaeologist assisting this officer in her investigations. We have no interest in you, and I suggest you leave now before-’

‘Tell him to keep his fucking mouth shut,’ North hissed.

Orr, unlike Kathy, had not noticed the black object dangling from North’s right hand.

‘How dare you speak to us in that manner!’ Orr exploded. ‘If you can’t show a little respect-’

North brought his right hand up until it was pointing at Orr’s chest. Orr blinked in astonishment as he made out the automatic and silencer.

‘Robbie, please keep quiet and leave this to me,’ Kathy said, with some intensity. She tried to glance unobtrusively at his hands, terrified that he would try to pull his antiquated gun from his coat pocket. ‘Don’t move or say a word, and everything will be perfectly all right.’

Orr swallowed, then drew himself up straight. ‘No, Kathy. I refuse to be intimidated by some loutish thug. Does your employer know you have that thing?’ he challenged North. ‘Good God, sir! I’m not frightened of the likes of you. I was with Templer in Malaya!’

There was silence for a moment. North was frowning, as if trying to work out what the hell Orr meant, and Kathy began to say something to try to divert his attention. But before she could get the words out, North said, ‘Yeah? Well I was with Ronnie Kray in Pentonville,’ and the gun jumped twice in his hand, with two vicious thumps.

Orr toppled abruptly backwards, lay felled on the floor, a look of blank amazement on his face. North stared down at him for some seconds, as if contemplating a fine piece of work, then swung the gun to point at Kathy’s head. Instinctively she closed her eyes, waiting for oblivion.

A long silence, then she heard his voice. ‘Take the coat off, very carefully, darling.’

As she eased it off and handed it to him a hissing, gurgling noise came from the figure stretched out on the floor beside her. She glanced down and saw pink foam on Orr’s lips.

North backed over to the bed and emptied the pockets of Kathy’s coat without taking his eyes off her, spreading out the purse, handcuffs, wallet with warrant card. Then he told her to turn and stand over against the wall, hands and feet spread. She felt him come close against her back, the end of the silencer press against her temple, then his free hand feeling in the pockets of her jeans, then round under her sweater to the front of her shirt, unbuttoning it and feeling inside to her skin. The hand slid up to her breast, pausing there a moment, his breathing heavy in her ear, then continued feeling her front, her belly, then round to her back, tugging the shirt out of her jeans so that the fingers could feel over her skin, up to her shoulders, then through her hair.

The hand went round to her front again, to the belt and zip of her jeans, undoing them. She said, ‘No,’ and tried to twist round, but he grabbed her hair and banged her face against the concrete block wall, pressing the metal tube harder against her temple. Then he returned to what he had been doing, unfastening her jeans, pulling them down to her ankles and feeling up and down her legs. He pulled off her shoes, threw them aside, and stepped back.

‘Hands behind your back,’ he said.

She obeyed, and felt the handcuffs on her wrists.

‘Turn,’ he said. ‘Sit.’

She squatted against the wall, jeans still round her ankles. The blow to her head had dazed her; her brow throbbed painfully. She fought to control the trembling that threatened to take her over, and tried to concentrate on things outside herself-on Orr, lying a couple of yards away, wheezing and bubbling faintly.

North was sitting on the bed, examining her wallet again, when she heard something, a faint metallic clang, from outside the room. The metal door of louvres, she thought, and imagined someone making their way slowly along the connecting corridor to the door of this room. Please let it be Brock, not Sharon, she thought, staring transfixed at the door handle as it began to turn.

She glanced at North, still preoccupied with her wallet, then back at the door. It opened a few inches, then a few more, and she recognised Harry’s profile in the gap. She wanted desperately to call out to him, tell him to run, get help, but she guessed that North would start blazing away indiscriminately if she startled him, so she bit her lip and watched Harry in silence as he slowly took in the scene in the room, his eyes widening at the sight of Orr stretched out on the floor, Kathy against the wall. Run! she silently urged him, as he stood staring at her, then at North, seemingly unable to decide what to do.

Finally she couldn’t stand it any more. Terrified that he’d say something, she gave a little sharp warning shake of her head. But the movement registered with North, who looked up suddenly, first at Kathy, then at the doorway, and took in Harry.

‘Run, Harry!’ she finally blurted. ‘Get help!’

But instead of running, he began to walk slowly into the room.

Incredulously, Kathy watched him crouch beside Orr. Then she was aware of North picking up his gun at last. He waved it in the general direction of Harry and said simply, ‘He’s dead.’

Harry looked up, face grim, then got to his feet and stared at Kathy. He took in the livid mark on her forehead, the dishevelled clothes, bare legs. ‘Christ, Greg,’ he said. ‘You didn’t have to-’

‘What? You think I screwed her?’ North gave a short laugh. ‘I was looking for a wire. She’s clean. She doesn’t even have a gun.’

Jackson looked over at the contents of her pockets spread out on the bed at North’s feet, then in puzzlement at Kathy. ‘No radio? No phone? What do they teach you kids these days?’

Kathy felt a wave of panic and despair rise inside her as she finally understood. She saw that he was holding in his hand the note with Brock’s phone number that she had given Sharon, and wondered desperately if she had made the call.

She took a deep breath, trying to make her voice sound strong, in control. ‘We’ve got an operation going, Harry, searching for hidden rooms. It’s only a matter of time before the others move down here. I left my phone upstairs. I should have checked in ten minutes ago.’

He studied her thoughtfully, then shook his head. ‘That wasn’t what you told Sharon, Kathy. And it doesn’t make any sense to me. An operation? With this old geezer? And not even a can of capsicum spray on you?’

He turned back to North. ‘You been checking the radio traffic?’

‘Earlier, yeah. Nothing special.’ He reached down from the bed and switched on the radio on the floor nearby.

After a moment the unmistakable sound of a police radio exchange came through: ‘Oscar Lima, receiving seven one five,’ and the reply, ‘Seven one five, go ahead.’ The voices were flat and untroubled. ‘All quiet on Nelson Road, Oscar Lima…’

Harry Jackson turned back to Kathy. ‘Sounds more like you had one of your little brainstorms, Kathy. What, decide to crack the case single-handed, did you? Christ…’ He shook his head sadly. ‘Haven’t you got anything better to do on Christmas Eve?’

‘She’s one of Brock’s,’ North said.

‘I know.’

‘So she’s not good to have around.’ He said this pointedly.

Kathy looked up at Jackson’s face, trying to read his reaction. He met her eye briefly, then turned away.

‘Let’s think about it.’

‘What’s to think about?’ North said. ‘Don’t worry, Harry. I’ll do it. My pleasure.’

‘We don’t know for sure what’s going on out there.’

Jackson went over to North and began speaking to him urgently in a low voice that Kathy couldn’t hear. She watched their expressions as the discussion went backwards and forwards. At the end of it, when Jackson got up from the bed and walked away, head lowered, hands in pockets, she couldn’t tell for sure which way it had gone, but it didn’t look encouraging.

‘I’m hungry,’ North said, casually picking up a magazine. ‘Get us something, will you, Harry? Nothing spicy; my gut’s playing up, stuck down here in this hole. Something with chips-fish or burger or something. And a decent bottle of plonk. It is Christmas Eve, after all.’

‘Sure,’ Jackson muttered. He turned to the door without looking in Kathy’s direction.

‘Don’t I get a last meal?’ she said.

North smiled, but said nothing.

Harry looked back reluctantly over his shoulder. ‘What do you want?’

‘I want you to get help for Orr,’ Kathy said. ‘Please, Harry. You can’t just let him die. Take him out of here and leave him somewhere and call an ambulance. If he survives he won’t be able to talk for days. Come on, Harry. It’s no risk to you.’

He smiled uncomfortably at her. ‘Nice try, Kathy.’ The tone of his voice chilled her. It was sympathetic, regretful, as if he didn’t expect to be talking to her again.

North said, ‘There’s some car keys in her bag, Harry. Maybe you’d better get rid of it.’

Jackson came back over to the bed and picked up her keys. ‘Yeah, I’ll bring it down beside mine, then I’ll close the service road for the night. Where is it?’ he asked her. ‘I know what you drive.’

‘Go fuck yourself, Harry,’ she said.

‘Suit yourself.’ He turned and made for the door.

As his footsteps faded away, North got to his feet and stretched, and for the second time Kathy braced herself, feeling sick in the pit of her stomach.

‘So, Kathy, is it?’ he said. ‘Your name?’ He began to stroll towards her, a little smile playing on his lips.

‘Yes, that’s right. A bit like Mandy.’

‘Eh?’ He stopped dead. ‘What did you say?’

‘I said my name is a bit like Mandy-two syllables, five letters-’

‘What do you know about Mandy?’

‘Which Mandy are we talking about? Mandy Rice-Davies? Or Mandy Bryant of twenty-three Tulip Court?’

‘Don’t get fucking smart with me, bitch. How do you know about Mandy?’

‘And Sophie. Well, how would we know? I mean, who do we know that knows about Mandy and Sophie? Now Sophie is two syllables and six letters. Like Connie. That’s a coincidence too, isn’t it?’

He was standing right over her now, glaring down, and Kathy smiled sweetly back up at him, feeling like a swimmer floundering through crocodile-infested waters. She watched him raise his hand and bring it down across her face once, twice. He seemed to like to work in twos, she thought: two bullets, two blows. One just wasn’t enough for Upper North. She heard his voice talking angrily, to her presumably, but she couldn’t make it out, what with the roaring in her ears and the shock of the pain where his rings had split her mouth.

He squatted down beside her and gripped her by the hair and spoke distinctly into her ear. ‘Tell me, you fucking bitch, or I’ll cut your fucking tits off. Who’s Connie?’

So he didn’t know about Connie. She wondered where the knife was. She hadn’t noticed one so far.

‘She’s Harry’s girlfriend, of course,’ she mumbled through lips that seemed to be inflating as she spoke. ‘Who also happens to be DS Lowry’s wife.’

‘And she told you about Sophie and Mandy?’ he hissed.

‘That’s what DS Lowry said.’

He pushed her head away so hard that she sprawled sideways onto the floor, arms trapped painfully behind her. From this position she watched his trainers stride away, then begin pacing backwards and forwards across the room. As they passed Orr, the prostrate figure groaned feebly and tried to raise a hand. North stopped, launched two vicious kicks at the old man, then continued on his way.

It seemed a very long time before they heard Harry Jackson’s footsteps again. Long enough for North to calm down and sit on the bed, and long enough too for Kathy’s hope that Sharon had phoned Brock to fade. At one point Kathy heard a faint rumble and creaking coming through the plywood ceiling of the room, and imagined Mount Mauna Loa erupting overhead for the benefit of the final shoppers, though the construction was sufficiently solid that they would never have heard any cry from her.

When Jackson came in, North waited while he put his burden of carrier bags down on the table, then got easily to his feet, walked over to Jackson and threw him against the wall. Jackson was a big man, six foot two and a couple of stones heavier than North, but he lacked the other’s violent energy, and was caught completely by surprise.

‘Wha-?’ he gasped, as North rammed a forearm across his throat and began haranguing him in a hoarse undertone. Kathy picked up the odd word, mainly obscenities and names: Connie, Sophie, Lowry…

Finally the angry monologue became a conversation, Jackson struggling to get the words out. She couldn’t hear exactly what was said, but the gradual shift of North’s tone, from fury to doubt to acceptance, was clear enough. She closed her eyes and waited for the retribution.

Footsteps-the click of Jackson’s boots coming towards her. She opened her eyes as he bent down and took hold of her by the arms and hauled her into a sitting position, then up onto her feet. He reached down and pulled up her jeans, yanked up the zip and stood in front of her with arms braced against the wall on each side of her head.

‘I don’t blame you for trying,’ he said, voice low, ‘but that was really stupid. Have you any idea what he’s like when he loses it?’

She looked past him at North, now ripping open the paper bags and taking handfuls of fish and chips while he fiddled with the controls of a small portable TV. It blared into life with the music of a cartoon programme.

‘How did you ever put your life in his hands, Harry? I did it by mistake. What’s your excuse?’

He held her eyes and said, ‘I got a letter today, Kathy, Christmas Eve. Me and Bo Seager, both. Our services are no longer required. The company would appreciate it if we would clear our desks and piss off.’

He glanced back over his shoulder at North, who was now humming to himself as he ate.

‘Now I’m a slow learner-it took me fifty years to figure it out-but I’m not so slow that I had to wait for them to tell me. You only get one shot at life, this is not a dress rehearsal, seize the day-all those old lines, they are true. You don’t understand because you’re young, Kathy. You think you have time to spare. Well, you don’t. None of us does. I finally understood that when Connie told me she wanted to leave Gavin for me, and I realised that this was my very last chance, and after this was nothing. And I looked back over my life, and saw it for how it had really been: fifty years fretting over pennies, stuffing around, making do. And I thought, No more, no more. I didn’t know what I was going to do about it, but I was going to do something.

‘That afternoon I walked through the mall, smiling at the shoppers, passing the time of day, and thinking, What a load of fucking zombies. Don’t you realise how utterly pointless you are? I’ve wasted most of my life trying to keep you safe-for what? And it was then I spotted Upper North.’

Perhaps North picked up his own name above the sound effects from the TV. He called over, mouth full of food, ‘What you talking to her about?’

‘I’m just putting this one straight on a few matters, Greg.’

‘What’s the point?’

Jackson eased back slowly from the wall. ‘Yeah, you’re right. There is no point.’

But there had been a hint of regret, and Kathy guessed he still wanted to tell her how it had happened.

‘Why didn’t you just go for the reward?’ she said quietly.

He looked her in the eye. ‘I checked that later. Ten thousand quid. About what I expected. Pennies.’

‘Honest pennies.’

He snorted and began to turn away.

She said quickly, ‘I can see how you were able to fool everyone else, Harry. I just can’t understand how you managed to fool yourself.’

He turned back, about to say something, but she cut in, ‘Murder isn’t like other crimes. You can’t balance a human life against cash. He can, but that’s what makes him different. You’ve persuaded yourself you can live with it, but you’re wrong.’

Jackson shook his head slowly. ‘No. We don’t have a choice between life and death, Kathy, only between death today and death tomorrow. Enough of my friends have passed away over the years for that to finally sink in- everybody dies. Once you really accept that, that it’s not a matter of whethe r but of when, it puts everything else into perspective. Him’-he nodded down at the figure on the ground-‘he’s dying a couple of days or a couple of months before he might have done. So what? He’d only have wasted the time anyway. I can make better use of it than him.’

‘What makes you think North isn’t looking at you in the same way?’

He smiled at her. ‘That’s why the money is already deposited equally in two Swiss bank accounts, one in his name and one in mine. That way neither can steal from the other. Don’t worry, I’ve thought a lot about this. It’s a finely balanced arrangement.’

‘He needs you to hide him here… and you need him…?’

‘I need his silence, Kathy. Because unlike him I’m not going to be on the run for the rest of my life. I’m going to retire quietly with my new family, buy a villa overlooking a Mediterranean beach, and live like a king.’

He seemed quite unconscious of what Kathy would have to conclude about her own future from his sharing this rosy vision with her.

She pretended not to notice, and said, ‘So you did it all between you? Just the two of you?’

‘That’s right.’ Although he tried to sound cool and offhand, Harry was clearly still somewhat in awe at what they’d done.

‘To North’s plan?’

‘No,’ Jackson leant forward to Kathy’s ear, ‘ my plan. When it comes to planning, ex-coppers make excellent villains. Greg North’s expertise is more in the-’

‘Execution.’ Kathy finished the sentence for him. ‘Yes, I’ve gathered that. Still, it must have been his idea, originally?’

‘Uh-uh.’ Jackson shook his head, pleased by her look of disbelief. ‘I’d worked it all out long before I saw him in the mall that day. Bo got me started, actually. She told me, early on when we first began working together, about this holdup at a mall in Canada, and after that I used to think about it sometimes, just for my own amusement, working out how it could be done.’

He stopped at the sound of North’s laughter from the other side of the room as he watched the cartoon film while the police messages continued on the radio.

‘Turn the small light on, Harry,’ North called out suddenly. ‘This one reflects in the screen.’

He got up and switched off the bright overhead fluorescent while Jackson turned on a small desk lamp on a chair beside the bed, creating a pool of light in a now darkened and shadowy room, the far end illuminated by the flickering screen to which North returned.

Harry came over and began to lead Kathy towards the bed. She stumbled, then, as he grabbed her arm, she whispered urgently, ‘Harry, please, let me try to help Orr. Let me at least sit with him.’

He glanced over at North’s back, then shook his head. ‘Forget it, Kathy. Just sit down on the end of the bed. You’ll be more comfortable.’

Kathy stared at the old man on the floor, unable to detect any sound or movement from him now, while Jackson searched among her things for the key to her handcuffs. When he found it he unfastened the cuff on her left wrist and clipped it to the bed frame, then sat down at the other end of the bed and gathered her possessions together. He picked up her notebook and put the rest of the things down onto the floor out of her reach.

‘So, you worked out how it could be done,’ Kathy prompted. She no longer really cared how they’d done it, but knew she must try to keep him talking to her.

Jackson, reading her notes, didn’t reply at first. Then he said, ‘How much do you know about Bruno Verdi?’

‘Know, or suspect? I suspect that he murdered his niece, Kerri Vlasich, and before that two other girls, maybe more.’

‘Hmm.’ Jackson returned his attention to the notebook, turning the pages slowly.

‘Do you know?’ she prompted.

‘Some time ago we had a bit of a problem with a girl called Norma Jean. You know about her?’

‘Yes.’

‘Yeah. Vagrancy, thieving, soliciting, dealing, shooting up in the toilets. Not unique by any means, but more persistent than most. Nobody seemed prepared to deal with her.

‘Well, one day I was down the gym with Bruno and Speedy and we were talking about Norma Jean. Bruno was complaining about how we weren’t solving the problem, and how it was beginning to affect business. I said I’d love to get rid of the girl, if anyone could tell me how, and Bruno said, if I really meant that, he could take care of it. When I asked what he meant, he looked kind of sly, you know, and said he could arrange to have her taken to Birmingham.’

‘Birmingham?’

‘He said he knew of a refuge there. Once there, he was sure Norma Jean wouldn’t want to come back. I said that sounded good to me. He said the only problem was that she wasn’t likely to go voluntarily. So it was a matter of finding some way to persuade her, for her own good of course, and ours. He said he could arrange this, if security would turn a blind eye, and if necessary cover up for him afterwards.’

‘You agreed to this?’ Kathy said, incredulous.

‘I didn’t know about his earlier history with the ice-cream van then, and he seemed genuinely concerned for the girl, wanting to help her start again. Honestly, Kathy, I thought he was doing us all a big favour.’

‘What changed your mind?’

‘Few months ago I had a run-in with Speedy. I’d caught him before taking drugs, or under the influence, but I’d always given him the benefit of the doubt. I knew he was on pain-killers, and I thought that was what was making him groggy. But this time I caught him red-handed with speed, and I said he was out. So then he told me a few home truths about what was going on in this place, things I didn’t know about.

‘He told me that after our conversation in the gym, Verdi had asked him if there was anywhere at Silvermeadow where he could keep Norma Jean for a few days, to frighten her, so she’d know not to come back. They’d looked at the building plans together, and found this room at the back of the plenum that wasn’t used, because it was practically inaccessible. So Verdi did some work on it, fixing it up with a solid door and moving in furniture, and Speedy removed it from the computer plans of the building. Part of the deal was that Speedy wanted a CCTV camera installed, so he could watch what went on in the room from his control console.

‘So he was able to tell me exactly what Verdi did to the girl. I’m not sure she knew too much about it-she was doped with some stuff Speedy was experimenting with. Then after three or four days, Verdi “took her to Birmingham”. That was the phrase he used for dumping her in the compactor. And the problem was, I was implicated in it. They could say I’d put them up to it, encouraged them from the beginning. And not just in that one case, either. Some time after Norma Jean we had a similar problem with another difficult kid, a foreign girl, and I said to Verdi, sort of joking, that I wished she’d sod off to Birmingham too, and he smirked and tapped his nose and said he’d see about it.’

He paused, and Kathy saw that the pages of the notebook he held in his fingers were trembling.

‘Speedy knew Verdi was killing the girls?’

‘Yeah. He’d seen him do it on camera, and he had the evidence on tape.’ He glanced back over his shoulder at a holdall at the side of the room.

‘You got the tapes from Speedy’s house,’ Kathy said. ‘You murdered Speedy and Wiff.’

‘Greg did it,’ Jackson said softly. ‘It had to be done. They were in the way, and we needed to get you lot to leave Silvermeadow.’

Kathy tried to take in the implications of this. Her head was buzzing and sore, the noise from the TV and radio distracting. ‘And Kerri? Did Verdi kill her too?’

Jackson didn’t answer. He looked away, then North’s voice called from the other end of the room, ‘News,’ and Jackson got to his feet and went over to the TV.

While they were occupied, Kathy tried to explore what she could of her surroundings. She couldn’t reach the suitcase or other things at the top end of the bed, nor could she get anywhere near Orr. The bed frame was surprisingly heavy, and gave a loud creak when she tried to move it. She hesitated, tried again, but could only shift it with difficulty, an inch or so at a time. She felt under the mattress and sleeping bag, hoping for something she might use as a weapon, or to prise open the handcuffs, but without success.

After ten minutes Jackson returned, carrying two glasses of red wine. ‘Nothing on the news,’ he said, handing one glass to her.

‘Doesn’t he mind sharing?’ she asked, nodding at North, engrossed now in some soccer.

‘His taste runs more to the chemical than the grape,’ Jackson muttered.

Kathy sipped at the wine. It burned her split lip and the taste reminded her of her evening drinking with Brock. The thought filled her with a sense of loss and despair. He wasn’t coming to rescue her. No one was. Jackson was right: this was a truly stupid way to spend Christmas Eve. She didn’t want to listen to more of his story, yet she knew she must keep him talking.

‘So this was the room,’ she said.

‘Eh?’

‘That Verdi used.’

‘Oh, yes. When Speedy explained it all to me, I went and had it out with Verdi. I told him I didn’t want to know about Birmingham, or what he’d done with the kids. As far as I was concerned he’d taken them to a refuge, and that was that. I told him the basement room was off limits now, the locks changed, and there were to be no more disappearances.’

‘How did he take it?’

‘The way he takes most things, with that big operatic smile that means nothing.’

‘When was this?’

‘Maybe three or four months ago.’

Long before Kerri disappeared then. Kathy had the feeling she didn’t want to hear about Kerri.

‘It was some time before I put the basement room together with the perfect robbery. The problem with the Canadian hold-up Bo had described wasn’t the heist itself, but the getaway. There isn’t going to be much time between robbing a security truck and having the alarm raised, and when the robbery takes place in an out-of-town shopping centre there aren’t any surrounding city streets to get lost in. There’s great access to the motorway, but it’s covered with cameras.

‘But suppose the robbers could disappear into the centre itself-the last place people would think of looking for them. I thought it was a neat idea. I looked closely at the way Armacorp did their collections, and I reckoned I could see how it could be done, using that hidden room.’

‘But how did North get down here after the robbery? Not through the security centre door into the plenum.’

‘Same way the kid Wiff got in and out of the plenum, through the drop ducts. There’s one in each of the stairways. North climbed down the last one with the uniforms and cash, and I replaced the grille after him and spent a couple of hours locked in a toilet cubicle, out of the way.’

Harry Jackson drained his glass and glanced at his watch. Kathy didn’t want him to leave, certainly not until she had found some way to hold North at bay.

‘But why on earth involve a madman like North, Harry?’ she said.

‘Because I’d never have done it otherwise. I had a plan all right, and I was beginning to feel desperate enough to dream about the money, but I was no hold-up merchant.

I’d never done anything like that before. In my heart I didn’t believe I could do it. It was only when I recognised him in the mall that day that I thought, for the first time, that I might actually go through with it.’

He glanced at her glass. ‘You’re not drinking.’

‘No. I can’t face it.’

‘You should drink. It’ll make you feel a bit better.’

Kathy laughed. ‘It’d take more than a glass of wine to make me feel better, Harry.’

‘I could get you a bottle of something else. What do you like? Vodka? Scotch?’

He is feeling guilty, she thought. He’d feel better if I died with a smile on my face. Some hope. This was why he was talking so much-his guilt, and presumably because there was no one else to confess to, apart from North, who wouldn’t have understood his need. Kathy doubted if Connie knew much of the real story.

‘I don’t think so, Harry. Here, you have the wine.’

He shrugged and took the glass. ‘Look,’ he said, so softly she had to lean over to hear, ‘I’ll do what I can to help you, okay? Don’t worry, and for God’s sake don’t annoy him.’

‘Are you a Catholic?’ she asked.

‘Lapsed,’ he said, surprised. A sudden look of consternation appeared on his face, as if he thought she might be about to demand a priest to give her the last rites. ‘Why?’

‘Just wondered. So you walked up to North in the mall and said, I know who you are, did you?’ Kathy asked. ‘He must have been pleased.’

‘Not quite like that. I followed him out to his car and we had a conversation. I told him who I was, and said that before I decided whether to turn him in, I had a proposition to put to him. I said I was looking for a partner to help me steal a few million quid, if he was still in the business.’

‘He believed you?’

‘After a while. He told me he’d come back to the UK to see his girlfriend, Sophie, who had had his kid while he was abroad. He’d never seen the little girl, and he wanted to persuade Sophie to come away with him. His funds were running low, too, and he’d been talking to one or two old mates about doing another job. Only he was finding that people weren’t so pleased to see him, after all the publicity he’d got the last time.’

‘The bank job in the City. He killed two coppers. Didn’t that bother you, Harry? Or did your amazing discovery that everyone has to die one day make that all right?’

Kathy had resolved not to antagonize him, but there was something so self-absorbed about the way he was going on that she hadn’t been able to hold back the bitter words.

Jackson looked sharply at her. ‘I’d watch that tongue, Kathy. You won’t find North as patient as me.’

She bit back a reply.

He looked away, as if he was losing interest in talking further with her, and she came in quickly with the question she most needed answered, but dreaded most.

‘You didn’t answer my question about Kerri Vlasich. Did Verdi kill her?’

He looked down at his shoes, then rose slowly to his feet. ‘I think we’ve talked enough.’

‘Who did kill her, if he didn’t?’

He was checking his watch again. For a moment he seemed about to say something, but then shook his head and began to walk away.

‘You did, didn’t you, Harry?’ Kathy said. ‘Kerri used to baby-sit for Sophie Bryant, and one time she saw you there, with North, and recognised you from Silvermeadow. That’s why she had to die.’

Jackson stopped and looked back at her, his face expressionless.

It had been a guess, but the only way Kathy could see that Kerri could have put herself at risk was by baby-sitting for North’s girlfriend. Seeing North alone would have meant nothing to her, but seeing Jackson with North would mean something once the robbery had been carried out and North’s picture was in every newspaper. Then Jackson’s dream of a quiet retirement with Connie would be blown, and, like North, he would be on the run for ever more.

And it meant that Jackson was prepared to kill for that dream; that he hadn’t just tolerated North’s murdering, but had himself killed in order to protect himself. Which was why his words of reassurance to Kathy, that he would do what he could to help her, were meaningless.

‘Come on, Harry,’ she whispered. ‘You didn’t seriously think you were in the clear, did you? We’ve had you in our sights for over a week now. That Mediterranean villa just isn’t an option any more. We’re still short of proof to pin you for Kerri’s murder, but if you kill me too, Brock will never let you rest. There won’t be the remotest corner of the world you can hide in. Your one chance is to use the fact that you’ve got me to do a deal with Brock. Go to him, tell him you never intended anyone to get hurt in the robbery, that North did all the killing. I’ll confirm that he shot Orr in cold blood, with you not here. Tell Brock to do the best he can for you, and tell him where I am. He’ll be grateful, Harry. So will I. This is the only chance you’ve got.’

‘You two are doing a lot of talking.’ North’s voice, harsh and suspicious, emerged from the shadows.

Jackson jumped, turned round quickly. ‘Yeah.’

‘What have you got to talk about, for fuck’s sake.’ North’s voice definitely was more slurred than before. ‘You look red, Harry. What’s the problem?’

‘No problem. The bitch has been working on me the same as she was on you, Greg.’

‘Yeah, right. Let’s do the bitch, get it over.’ He drew something from his pocket. With a sharp click the blade snapped open.

‘Hang on, Greg!’ Jackson said with alarm. ‘Brock knows more than we thought. That’s what I’ve been getting out of her. Looks like we may need her as a hostage.’

‘You reckon?’ North licked his upper lip, disappointed and suspicious. ‘I want to send Brock a message, when he finds her. Something he’ll remember.’

‘Sure, Greg, sure.’ Jackson was looking rattled, and Kathy thought she should try to ease North off this line of thought.

‘Why are you still here?’ she asked him. ‘That’s what I don’t understand. Why haven’t you made your move already?’

He looked at her with a sly, dangerous smile. ‘Safest place, darling. Tomorrow, Christmas Day, I become a pilgrim.’ Sniggering at this thought, he reached down into the suitcase and pulled out a priest’s dog collar. ‘Special trip for the God squad. Dawn charter flight from Luton, Christmas lunch in Bethlehem, afternoon in the Holy Land, Christmas dinner on the evening flight back, minus one pilgrim.’

‘Optimum timing, right?’ Jackson said, his voice mechanical, talking to make time while he tried to get his brain to work. ‘Robbery on the peak Saturday before Christmas for maximum takings, and getaway on Christmas Day when the search has died down and security’s thin on the ground.’

Kathy thought about that. The accidental finding of Kerri’s body must have rattled them, bringing dozens of police to Silvermeadow at just the wrong time. Killing Speedy had been a desperate improvisation to persuade them to close the case and leave before the planned day of the robbery.

North had turned and wandered back to the other side of the room, folding the blade of the flick-knife back into its handle. A toilet bucket had been improvised over there, and they heard him peeing, loud and long.

Kathy looked carefully at Jackson, wondering if she’d made any impression at all. His complexion had washed out to a sick grey, a film of sweat on his brow.

‘Must be just like home from home for him in here, Harry,’ she said. ‘He’s spent half of his life in prison. What about you? How long will you last inside?’

‘Give it a rest,’ he muttered. ‘And for Christ’s sake don’t wind him up again this time.’ He got to his feet.

‘You’re leaving?’ she asked in alarm.

‘I’ve got to close up the mall. Don’t worry, he won’t touch you as long as we might need you for insurance. I’ll be back later.’

‘Then what?’

‘I told you, I’ll do what I can.’

‘Somehow that doesn’t reassure me, Harry.’

‘I’m not giving this up, Kathy,’ he whispered angrily. ‘I’ve come too far to do that.’

Kathy felt a stab of panic. It was true: he had come too far. There was nothing she could say, no angle she could work.

‘The thing you’ve got to ask yourself, Harry, is what’s the best outcome you can get for yourself?’ she said desperately. ‘Do you think Connie will agree to spend the rest of her and her kids’ life on the run with a wanted killer? When I walked in here your options narrowed very sharply. You’d better do some hard thinking up there. You’ve got Brock’s mobile number, remember? Do yourself a favour and use it.’

It was the best she could come up with. For a moment there seemed to be a glimmer of doubt in his eyes, then the hard look snapped back and he turned away with a dismissive snort.

‘Harry!’ she called after him. ‘Get me a drink of water. Please.’

He hesitated, then poured water into a glass on the table and brought it back to her. Kathy took a gulp of water, then said hoarsely, ‘What are you going to do?’

‘There’s nothing I can do, Kathy. I’m sorry. Really. What’s done is done. I have to live with it. I can’t change it now.’

‘Suppose you could?’ she whispered. ‘Suppose you could go back a month, and forget about the hold-up, and Kerri, and Speedy, and everything.’

He shook his head. ‘Christ… life isn’t like that.’

‘There’s no hard evidence linking you to the hold-up or North, or to Kerri’s death either.’ She lifted her face closer to him, straining to make him understand. ‘If you were to stop North right now, a citizen’s arrest, and rescue me, who’s to say you’re not a hero? Me? Not likely. North? Everyone knows that he’d sell his mother for tuppence.’

‘You’d look after me, I suppose?’ he said. ‘Oh sure.’

‘Yes, Harry, I promise. You’ve got a good record. Why not? You can start again, with Connie.’

He smiled, looking sick. ‘You’re a trier, Kathy. Got to hand it to you. But you know I couldn’t, even if I wanted to. You’ve seen what he’s like. He’s got that gun. I couldn’t take him.’

‘If you had a gun, I could distract him, Harry.’

‘If…’

‘There’s one in the pocket of Orr’s coat.’

‘Eh?’ He looked at her as if she were mad.

‘In the right-hand pocket. An old service revolver, loaded. He brought it to shoot Verdi. Unfasten my handcuffs, and wait until he comes towards me.’

He shook his head and backed away from her. ‘God, you never give up, do you?’ He turned and went to the door.

North watched TV for the best part of an hour. At times Kathy thought he might have fallen asleep, but then he would sit up and look over to see what she was doing. Whenever he seemed absorbed in the screen she would continue with her attempts to ease the bed to which she was handcuffed away from the wall and closer to Orr. After a long, suppressed struggle that left her sweating and aching, she discovered that it would budge no further, and when she looked under it to see what the problem was she discovered that one of its legs at the head was chained to a bolt in the wall. She had been wasting her time. In desperation she tried stretching out on the floor, reaching out as far as possible towards Orr. Straining on her handcuffed wrist, she was just able to get a foot to within a couple of inches of the top of his motionless head, but no closer.

She was sitting crouched on the end of the bed, shivering with frustration and chill, when North yawned, stretched, jabbed the TV off and turned to stare at her.

‘Like The Bill, do you, Greg?’ she asked as he came towards her, not liking the look in his eyes one bit.

‘Yeah, always used to watch it. Didn’t think it would still be on when I came back, but there they were, the same old characters. Well, some had changed. June, for instance. I understand she had a spot of bother. I was sorry to hear that. I always had a soft spot for June. Being a blonde, maybe, like you.’

He contemplated her with a slightly dreamy look, then squeezed his nose and sniffed noisily. He seemed suddenly voluble, and she guessed he’d been snorting something.

‘I should have let you watch it, darling,’ he went on. ‘Special Christmas Eve episode. Reg played Santa at the children’s hospital with a raving paedophile on the loose. You’d have enjoyed it, the way they all back each other up, and the villains always get caught in the end. Would you say that’s realistic, darling? From your perspective, as a serving officer, in the flesh, like?’ He stared down at her legs. ‘How did you get your jeans on again?’

‘Harry-’

‘Oh, good old Harry.’

‘I don’t know about good, but he’s certainly smart.’

‘Oh yeah?’ he said vaguely.

‘Smarter than you, anyway, if you haven’t figured out what he’s going to do tonight.’

North grinned at her tolerantly. ‘Don’t try it again, darling. I thought I taught you about your lip.’

Kathy shrugged and looked away. ‘Suit yourself.’

There was a short pause.

‘Go on then, I could do with a laugh. What’s he going to do?’

‘When he’s finished, there’s going to be three dead in here.’

‘Oh yeah?’

‘Yes. The old man and me shot with your gun, and you dead of an overdose, same as Speedy.’

‘Is that right?’ North sniggered. ‘You amaze me, you really do. Now why would he do that?’

‘Because he has no choice. My coming here doesn’t make much difference to you-you’re going to be on the run anyway. But for him it’s a disaster. He doesn’t want to go on the run. His new girlfriend won’t stand for it. His whole plan was to retire in respectable comfort with her, a free man. Hasn’t he told you about the villa overlooking the Mediterranean?’

North nodded, more cautious now, looking as if he resented having to get his nicely mellowed brain to work.

‘We already had our suspicions about Harry, and if you two kill me Brock won’t rest until he’s put him away. That’s not Harry’s plan at all. That’s what he and I were talking about while you were watching Bart Simpson. So now he only has one option. He has to make you responsible for everything, and he has to have you and me both dead so we can’t tell the truth. It worked with Speedy, maybe it’ll work again. My guess is that at this moment he’s desperately trying to figure out a way to do it that won’t look too suspiciously much like the way Speedy died. That’s really his only problem. Then, when he’s done it, he’ll help Brock to find this place, and clear up the case. After a decent interval he’ll go off with his half share, confident that Greg North will never come crawling out of the woodwork one day to give him away.’

North stared down at her, silent, and with a sense of dread Kathy watched his doped smile fade and black fury flare in his eyes.

He bent down and grabbed her left arm and leg, lifted her up and threw her bodily across the bed. Her right arm jerked taut and twisted on the handcuff, and Kathy screamed as she felt the muscles in her shoulder tear. He was on top of her, on her back, spitting as he shouted into her ear.

‘Nice try, bitch! You’re a fucking comedian, know that? Now I’ll tell you my fantasy. You’re a copper, see? Let’s call you June, eh?’ He began pulling at her clothes. ‘Yeah! And June is going to die, right? Just like on The Bill. Only this time, when you’re dead’-he was gasping with effort and rage, tearing at Kathy’s clothing-‘and they open you up on the stainless-steel table… inside of you.. . they’ll find a message… a personal message, from me… to Brock.’

Beyond his hoarse shouting in her ear and the pain screaming in her shoulder, Kathy heard another voice calling out, telling him to stop. Jackson, she decided. Finally North heard it too, and he paused long enough in his struggle with her jeans to tell him to fuck off.

Then he went abruptly still.

Kathy twisted her head up and saw his face inches away, saliva dribbling from his mouth, and the barrel of Orr’s gun pressing up under his chin.

‘I said’-Jackson’s voice came from somewhere beyond-‘get off her, Greg.’

‘What are you doing?’ North was genuinely astonished. ‘What are you fucking doing?’

‘She’ll have to come with us to the airport, in case we run into trouble. We’ll need her to be able to walk. Just leave her alone.’

‘Okay. Sure, Harry. Take it easy.’

North’s voice had become steady, calm, but Kathy could see the look in his eye, which Jackson couldn’t. He slowly got to his feet, still with Jackson at his back. Harry began to lower the heavy gun, and in that moment North uncoiled like an eel, the flick-knife blade opening in his hand and slamming into Jackson’s side.

‘Too old, Harry,’ he hissed. ‘Too slow.’

Jackson staggered back against the wall, and as his knees buckled he lifted the heavy revolver and pulled the trigger. There was a loud clunk as the hammer struck. He sank onto his knees, face screwed in pain, and lifted the gun again, struggling to thumb back the hammer.

Another clunk. This time North gave a wild whoop of mocking laughter. A jet of scarlet spurted from Harry Jackson’s mouth and he began to topple forward, and as the gun hit the floor a great explosion shattered the air.

It was a moment before Kathy realised what had happened. She took in Jackson spreadeagled on the floor, face down, and North slumped back against the end of the bed, facing him. His knife had dropped to the floor, there was a puzzled look on his face, and the top of his head, above the eyebrows, was gone.

The barking dog roused her. Far away at first, she gradually allowed herself to believe that it was coming closer. Not much time had passed, she thought, for her ears were still ringing from the explosion. She tried to shout, but her throat was dry and she could barely raise a cough. Then the door opened and the German shepherd bounced in, dragging a dog-handler behind it, closely followed by Lowry and Brock.

They all stopped dead, even the dog, at the shock of the scene in the room: four corpses, blood splashed everywhere, on the walls, the floors…

Kathy realised that one of the corpses was her. She lifted a pale face and muttered hoarsely, ‘About bloody time.’

Brock stared at her. ‘Oh, Kathy,’ he whispered. ‘You don’t do things by halves, do you?’