Revenger

68

It was just past six in London. Carver was clear in his mind now about what he had to do to get out, but he needed a little help. There was one man he knew he could count on, an ex-SBS lance-corporal called Kevin Cripps who’d served with Schultz and been tight with him afterwards. It took a while for the call to be answered, and Carver was starting to think that Cripps was off somewhere working as a mercenary or bodyguard when he heard the incoherent grunt of a man woken from a very deep sleep.

‘Morning, Cripps… it’s Carver.’

‘Unnhh, morning, boss… fuck, me head hurts, and me guts.’

‘Bad night, huh?’

‘You heard about Schultz? Fuckin’ terrible news…’

‘Yeah, I know.’

‘Me and some lads went out, give him a proper send-off… It was unreal, you know. I only spoke to him yesterday — he said he was having a drink with you, as it happens. S’pose that never happened, right?’

‘No, it did. I saw him…’

Carver said nothing, waiting for the penny to drop through the thick alcoholic fog filling Cripps’s head.

‘Oh fuck,’ Cripps groaned. ‘Was you there, with him…?’

‘Yeah, that’s why I was calling.’

‘What happened? I mean, I heard all the bollocks on the news. But what’s the truth?’

‘We were under siege in that supermarket and we did what we had to do to survive.’

‘’Course you did… so what happened to Schultz?’

‘He ran out of bullets. There were too many of them and he only had one working arm.’

‘But he went down fighting, yeah?’

‘What do you think?’

‘Right… and then you got stuck into the fucking bastards.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Good for you, boss. They killed your mate. You killed them. So… what can I do for you?’

‘Do you still have that old Mazda?’

Cripps laughed. ‘Yeah, just about, but it’s well knackered. I mean, it goes all right, but it’s not exactly a luxury ride.’

‘Doesn’t matter. I’ll give you ten grand for it.’

‘That’s a lot more than it’s worth.’

‘The money’s not just for the car. There’s something else I need you to do for me.’

‘What’s that, then?’

‘Shit, shower, shave and put on a proper suit. Then go to Victoria Station and take a train to Shoreham-by-Sea. I need you there by half nine.’

‘What the hell’s in Shoreham-by-Sea?’

It took Carver another ten minutes to tell Cripps what he’d find that was so important in a sleepy little suburb of Brighton, down on the Sussex coast. He talked through the way the financial transaction would work, and what little extras Cripps had to take care of.

Before they hung up, Cripps asked. ‘So where do you want the Mazda?’

‘Anywhere near Victoria will do. Text me the location. Leave the keys in the exhaust and if there’s a ticket to pay, just put that in the glove compartment.’

‘Got it,’ said Cripps. ‘Right then, I’d better get going.’

When the call was over Carver swapped his black body warmer for an old windcheater someone had left on a hook by the front door. It was as miserable and unappealing as everything else in the place: a pallid sky-blue fabric, with a coating of grime that added a depressing grey top note: in short, just the kind of garment a man who looked the way Carver now did would wear. He transferred his wallet, phone and the head cam into its pockets, then screwed up a Tesco shopping bag and shoved that in, too.

He didn’t want to be weighted down by the satchel and its contents, so he reset the iPad to its factory settings, deleting everything on it, wiped it clean of fingerprints and stuck it in a drawer in the kitchen. Satisfied that he had done everything his plans for the day required, he went into the bedroom and, still fully dressed, with the Glock beside him on the bedside table, lay down for an hour’s sleep, his first in almost twenty-four hours. It was a long way from a proper night’s kip, but it would have to do.

Novak was woken at half past six and told to get ready. Carver had been located. His current location would be virtually impossible to penetrate. But plans were underway to force him to move. He would be driven towards her, just as dogs drive game towards the hunters’ waiting guns. It would not be long now.