Hit and Run

Chapter Twenty

Each time a man entered the lobby, single or accompanied, Shap’s eyes flicked over to the receptionist. And so far he had been disappointed. No signal from the girl that here was the quarry. He entertained himself guessing what people were doing here: the smart business types in town to talk up deals; the trendy ones who might be in the media, actors or visiting musicians; and the visitors, here for pleasure, taking in the history or the culture, or the shopping.

He half hoped he’d spot a celebrity – The Midland was a popular meeting spot – maybe someone from Corrie or United; he could add them to his list along with Robbie Williams, David Jason, Victoria Wood and Michael Owen.

Another bloke approached the desk. He had blond hair, wore a long raincoat; he was carrying a laptop. Eyes alert, Shap waited. The way the man stood obscured Shap’s view of the girl on the desk. Come on, he thought, let the dog see the rabbit. The man took his key and moved away towards the lift. The receptionist gave a small shake of her head.

Shap sighed and sat back. What was Sulikov up to? Out on the town? They’d a pair of coppers posted at both the club and the brothel with strict instructions to make an arrest if the Polack turned up there. Someone who could afford to stay here could be living the high life: dinner at Simply Heathcoat’s, on to one of the city’s private members’ clubs. Or maybe he was out seeing what his rivals in the sex trade were up to this season, sampling the goods.

The thought made him cross his legs. Mind on the job. He watched a girl go by, nice looker. Mind you the girl behind the desk was quite a stunner, smiled a lot too. But she had laughed outright when he asked if she fancied a drink sometime. Like he’d made a joke. ‘Hah, hah, hah. I don’t think so,’ she’d giggle. Probably engaged, he decided. Not available rather than not interested.

Another bloke came in, grey-haired and stoop shouldered and Shap pretended to read the refreshments menu he was holding, while he watched him ask for his key.

Stone had directed Janine to drive to an abandoned storage depot within sight of Manchester Airport. Here and there loomed old freight containers, rusting and daubed with graffiti. The rough ground was strewn with weeds and old gravel tracks criss-crossed the area. Janine had never been here before. She wondered how Stone knew about it. Barbed wire surrounded much of the perimeter and she had seen notices which suggested that re-development work was imminent, along with weather-beaten signs warning of guard dog patrols.

After telling her to stop and turn the engine off, Stone had issued his demands. ‘I am not going down for murder,’ said Stone. ‘You’ve got to tell them. And you’ve got to get me some protection.’

Janine’s voice felt unreliable. ‘It doesn’t work-’ she began.

‘Now!’ he shouted, making her jump. ‘You don’t have much choice, do you, lady?’

‘Put the gun down. I can’t do anything until you put the gun down.’

‘No!’ His face was contorted.

‘Just-’

‘Shut it.’

‘Please, put the gun down.’

‘Shut up.’

‘Please, Lee, please put the-’

‘Shut up!’ He yelled. ‘Shut the fuck up!’

There was a powerful crack, a whoomph of air. The front windscreen shattered, lines crazing across the glass. He’d shot the gun.

Janine started to tremble uncontrollably. Her heart thundered against her ribs. Her ears hurt. She had felt the impact of the blast through her bones, in all her soft tissue. Oh, God, help me, she prayed.

Stone still held the gun. She watched in the mirror which was still intact. ‘You gonna listen to me?’ She could barely make out the words, her ears singing and buzzing.

‘Yes,’ she said hoarsely.

‘Sulikov rang us, on my mobile. He said the girl had died of an overdose. We had to take the car and get rid. We didn’t know he’d killed her. Then, well, job like that, putting her in the water, you get all wired up. Needed to burn some of the adrenalin off. But we didn’t kill her.’

‘But you ran over Ann-Marie.’ She regretted the words as soon as they had left her mouth.

‘Shut up,’ he shouted again. ‘Shut up and listen.’

She gripped the steering wheel to stop her hands from shaking.

‘When you let us out, I rang Sulikov back. We needed to get right away.’ He paused. She saw him blink momentarily, his face drawn and tired in the reflection. She realised he was at breaking point. ‘He goes ballistic, yabbering on in Polack, but he knew we’d be bad news hanging round here. He was going back to Poland – says he’ll take us across the Channel. There’s some warehouses not far from us, an old tunnel. He says he’ll meet us at the other side. We go all the way in. He’s standing at the top of the steps, yelling at us hurry up. Then he opens up. Fucking Terminator. Jez goes down. I legged it. He’s firing after me. Soon as he knows where I am, he’ll be after me next. You’ve got to get me protection.’

‘You’ll turn Queen’s evidence?’

‘I dunno.’

‘It’s a two-way street.’

‘He’ll get round it. You’ll never get him to court. He’ll drop out of sight in Europe. Then, what about me? If there’s no trial?’

She tried to reassure him, ‘With your testimony and stuff we’ve got from Harper, we’ve a strong case. We know where Sulikov is. But we need to move quickly.’ A sudden swirl of unfairness caught hold of her. She was scared and sick of him threatening her. He wanted to deal – he could do it her way. ‘And absolutely nothing happens until you move that bloody gun. Do you know how hard it is to even think straight with you pointing that thing at me?’

‘How do I know you’re gonna do what you say?’

‘You don’t. But I’m being straight with you. You give us the information we need on Sulikov and we’ll get you into witness protection. As long as it all adds up.’

He lowered the gun. ‘What now?’

She felt like weeping. She cleared her throat, the sound was strange in her ears. ‘Now I take you in.’ She pressed her hands to her face, trying to calm herself. She rubbed at her forehead, rolled back her shoulders.

Movement caught her eye. On the horizon, where they had entered the field, a string of police cars appeared in view and among them Richard’s car. Oh, bloody Nora, Janine thought. It’s Thelma and Louise.

‘It’s a set-up!’ Stone screamed and raised the gun again.

‘No,’ Janine insisted. ‘Let me talk to them. I’ll send them away.’

‘You conned me!’

‘No! Lee, I didn’t, you’ve got to believe me. I’ll tell them.’ Without waiting for permission she switched on the police radio, activated the amplifier and spoke into the handset, ‘Richard, back off! Back off now! Get them all out of here.’

The line crackled then Richard’s voice. ‘Are you OK, Janine? Are you hurt?’

‘Never better.’ Her sarcasm felt white hot. ‘Lee Stone is coming in. But only if you get rid of the bloody cavalry.’

‘Are you sure you’re not hurt? We’ve had reports of gunfire.’

Listen to me, you fool, she thought. ‘Ten out of ten, Richard! And I’m the one with bloody hearing loss not you. Back off!’ she said clearly, fury tightening every syllable. ‘Back off. Now! We do not need an escort. Mr Stone will require legal services and complete protection. We will be treating him as a valuable witness. Now clear the area. That’s not a suggestion, that’s a bloody order!’

Seconds passed and then Richard replied. ‘Understood. You’ll follow us back?’

‘Yes.’

The convoy left. The lights still flaring. She prayed they wouldn’t try anything clever. An ambush or a roadblock. That they would trust what she had said and let her keep her promise.

‘OK,’ she told Stone. ‘Let’s try that again.’

He nodded curtly. ‘I need your gun.’

He hesitated for a moment then passed it to her. It was heavy She wrapped it and put it safely away. Then, her muscles throbbing with tension, she used the ice-scraper to clear the remaining glass from the windscreen, pushing it onto the bonnet.

She felt a surge of self-pity. She wanted to be home and safe and warm, not here with some lunatic who would shoot her as soon as look at her. Just do the job, she told herself. Get on with it. She had to stay strong, and practical and level-headed.

Her limbs juddering, she started the car. Haltingly she drove, concentrating fiercely and shivering in cold rain that spattered on her face. Other drivers slowed, seeing the damage. Twice she stalled, cursing as she fired the ignition again, her fingers feeling swollen and clumsy

Stone said nothing. Did nothing.

They were all waiting outside the station: Richard, Butchers, DCs and loads of uniforms. She’d no doubt there were marksmen somewhere but at least they’d had the wits to keep them out of view.

‘I’m going to get out first and then I want you to get out slowly,’ Janine told Stone.

‘I need to cuff you,’ she said, when he complied. ‘They won’t let us in unless you’re in restraints.’

He looked at her, still distrustful. Then he relented, held out his hands. She put on the flexicuffs, clumsily, hampered by the way her own hands were still quivering.

At that point a number of uniformed officers walked forward to escort Lee Stone into the building. Richard approached Janine. He studied her for a long moment, unsmiling, his eyes guileless. She matched his stare. Then he gave a tiny smile, closed his eyes in relief. ‘Where’s the gun?’

‘Glove compartment, in the nappy sack.’

Richard began to speak, no doubt about to make a quip.

‘Don’t,’ she said. She wasn’t ready yet. She needed to get into the building and find somewhere to collapse.

As soon as Stone had been taken away, Janine fled to the toilets. She sat down in one of the stalls and put her head in her hands. The shaking grew stronger; it felt as though there was a boulder in her throat, lead in her belly. She could smell the stink of cordite on her clothes, and her own fear. A wave of rage sluiced through her, impotent, blazing rage. She balled her fists and banged at her own knees, cursing repeatedly. Slagging off Stone, the job, the world that had placed her in such danger.

She finally allowed herself to think about her kids, about them waiting for her at home. And then of Ann-Marie’s home: the little girl would never come in the door again, never giggle at the telly or complain about her food or sing. It was that that undid her. She cried noisily and messily until she felt cleansed.

When she came out to wash her face, her nose was swollen and red, her face puffy. She splashed cold water over it repeatedly then patted it dry and brushed her hair.

She saw the custody sergeant and promised him a full written statement for the morning. ‘I really need to get home now, Geoff,’ she croaked.

‘You go. No problem.’

Richard was in the incident room. She leaned on the door frame and gave him a wave.

‘Hey,’ he said softly, ‘nice one.’

She bit her lip, keeping control. ‘I’m off. If you need me…’

‘I know where you are, he said.

‘How’d you find us?’ the thought struck her.

‘We’d an all points alert out. An unmarked patrol saw you leaving Royle Green Road. They called in your location when you went into the fields.’

‘Who’s doing the interview?’

‘I am.’

She gave him a summary of what Stone had told her.

‘Think he’s telling the truth?’

She exhaled noisily, shaking her head. ‘Ask me tomorrow.’