Severed

9

It's another ten minutes before I feel I can breathe again. I'm still driving east, not a hundred per cent sure what I should be doing other than putting as much distance as possible between myself and the police. I turn the phone my blackmailer supplied me with back on, but there are no messages.

I'm hungry and exhausted. I take some deep breaths as the traffic ahead slows at lights, knowing that my situation's now taken a serious turn for the worse, while my memory of yesterday remains a steady, stubborn blank. Before I continue my search for Leah's killer, I need to stop somewhere and take stock of what's happening. And I need food. I desperately need food.

The phone starts playing the 'Funeral March' and I pull up onto the pavement to take the call.

'Have you got the case?' demands the robotic voice.

'Yeah, but I only just made it out,' I tell him. 'Things went wrong and now the place is crawling with police.'

'What do you mean, things went wrong?'

'The guy I was picking the case up from had some very dodgy security. They decided they wanted his money. There was some shooting and the police got called.'

'But he's all right, is he? The man who gave you the case?'

'No. He's dead. So's his security.'

'If you had anything to do with his death-'

'I didn't. I knew the guy.'

'What?'

Straight off, I know I've made a mistake. I should have kept my mouth shut.

'I've met the guy before,' I say, trying to sound casual.

'Where?'

'That's my business.'

'What did he tell you about the case?'

'Nothing.'

'He was supposed to provide us with a code that would open it.'

'Well, I'm afraid he's no longer in a position to help you there.'

'He said the case would be booby-trapped. Is it?'

'It is, and it looks like it's been professionally done as well.'

There's a long silence down the other end of the phone. I imagine him trying to work out how to deal with this unforeseen and most unwelcome eventuality. I find myself enjoying his discomfort, even though it could very easily be deflected on to me.

'You'd better not be lying, Tyler.'

'I'm not,' I answer firmly. 'Check out the TV. It'll be on the news pretty soon. There are four people dead.'

'Where are you now?'

'A couple of miles east of the address you sent me to.'

'All right,' he says, sounding like he's come to a decision. 'I'm going to text you an address in King's Cross. You're to bring the case there in an hour's time, at a quarter to two.' The speed of his voice slows down and becomes calmer as he assesses the situation. 'When you arrive, knock on the door slowly four times. You'll be asked to identify yourself. Give your name, and say you have an urgent delivery that needs signing for. When you get inside, hand over the case to the man who lets you in, and in return he will give you a plastic evidence bag containing the murder weapon from last night, and the master copy of the DVD which shows you killing the girl.'

'I didn't kill her,' I snap. 'I didn't kill Leah.'

He ignores my protest. It's irrelevant to him. 'When I have confirmation that we have the case, her corpse will be disposed of, along with any further forensic evidence linking you to the crime, and you won't hear from us again.'

I feel a rage building. It's the way she's being described. Like some product that has malfunctioned and needs discarding. I fight to keep it down. Anger won't help me now. I'm almost certain I'm being sent into a trap, but once again I have no choice but to appear to co-operate.

'OK,' I say tightly, 'I'm on my way.'

'And, Mr Tyler?'

'Yeah?'

'Don't be tempted to try anything clever. I know exactly the type, dimensions and distinguishing features of the briefcase you collected. If you don't hand over the right one, you'll have to answer to the authorities for the girl's murder and mutilation.'

'You'll get the right one,' I tell him, but the bastard's already cut the connection.

I replace the phone in my pocket and look down at the case beside me on the passenger seat. So far, five people have died for whatever it contains, and I'm determined not to be number six.

It's time, I think, for some back-up.