Assassin (28 page)

'I found this in the phone box,' he said breathlessly.

Harrison snatched it from him and tore it open.

Inside was a cardboard box.

There was a dark stain on the bottom of it.

Harrison opened it, teeth gritted as he gazed in.

'Oh Jesus,' murmured Drake, who had moved closer to get a better look.

Harrison's breath was coming in short gasps now, his eyes riveted to the contents of the box.

Carter recognised the ear-ring as Tina's, recognised the lock of hair.

Recognised the severed little finger, hacked off at the second joint.

Spattered crimson where blood had spilled from the digit, there was a note. Crudely written in ball-point. Harrison lifted it from the box with shaking hands and read the words on it. Standing close by him, Carter was also able to make out the scrawl:

RICH CUNT

NEXT TIME IT WILL BE

HER HAND

It was Detective Inspector Thorpe who recognised the writing. He took the note from Harrison and scanned the words once more. There was an unmistakeable familiarity about that almost childish scrawl and the aggressive style of the note. He'd seen writing like that inside the houses of the Donaldson and Kenning families and also that of Maureen Lawson. As Harrison ranted and raved, overturning things in the office, Thorpe turned to look at him.

'I want these bastards found,' roared the gang boss. Then he turned on Mitchell. 'You were supposed to have killed all the others.'

'I killed who I was contracted to kill,' the hit man told him.

'Then who the fuck has taken Tina?' bellowed Harrison. 'I want everyone you can find. Every pimp, ponce, pusher and tuppenny-hapenny little villain working this and every other manor in London. Find out who's done this.'

'It isn't another gang,' Thorpe told him.

Harrison spun round his anger now directed at the policeman.

'How the hell do you know?' the gang boss snarled.

Thorpe explained about the note, about the other killings.

'We've been tracking them for the last few months, trying to find leads but so far we've come up with nothing,' the DI explained. 'They're fanatics. Anti-rich terrorists. They've been hitting at anyone they consider to be wealthy and in the public eye.'

'Then why pick on me?' Harrison demanded.

'You're not exactly destitute, Frank,' said Billy Stripes.

'If they wanted me then why not come for me? Why take Tina?'

'She must be the bait,' Carter interjected. 'Their way to get at
you
.' He pointed at the gang boss.

Mitchell snapped the case shut.

'Well, it seems you have other business to attend to,' he said, matter-of-factly. 'I'll leave you to it.'

Joe Duggan once more moved to block the door.

'Wait,' snapped Harrison. 'You can't leave now. I still need you to help me.'

'My contract is fulfilled,' the hit man reminded him.

'London is yours. You have no rivals left.'

'I need you to help me get Tina back.'

'I don't work for nothing,' Mitchell reminded him.

'This is police business, Frank, you have no right ...'Thorpe protested.

'Another million on top of that if you get her back alive,' Harrison said.

Mitchell shrugged.

'Very tempting.'

'You don't need him,' Carter protested. 'We can find her ourselves.'

Mitchell smiled and looked almost mockingly at Carter.

'A million,' Harrison repeated. 'Get her back.'

Mitchell nodded.

'You can't do this, Frank,' shouted Thorpe. 'This is official. We're talking about a kidnapping.'

'We'll be talking about a corpse if I leave it to you to find her,' Harrison said.

'I'm going with him,' Carter insisted.

'Fair enough,' Mitchell said. 'I still need a driver. As long as you're not going to walk out on me again.'

The two men exchanged glances.

'But what if she's already dead,' Drake said quietly.

Harrison gritted his teeth and took a step towards Drake, grabbing him by the lapels. He hurled him backwards against the wall, and grabbed him once more as he slammed into the brickwork.

'Don't say that,' snarled the gang boss, his face livid. 'Don't ever say that.'

'He could be right, Frank,' Thorpe intoned. 'From what I've seen of these maniacs so far ...'

'She's not dead,' roared Harrison at the top of his voice. He stepped away from Drake, standing in the centre of the room, swaying almost drunkenly. 'She's not dead. Now find her.'

Carter looked at the furious gang boss who kept murmuring over and over to himself, like some kind of litany:

'She's not dead.'

Carter prayed that Harrison was right.

The first thing she noticed was the smell.

As Tina Richardson slowly regained consciousness she sucked in a painful breath and the stench filled her nostrils. It was the smell of decay, of neglect. Of filth.

She moaned softly and tried to open her eyes but she still felt groggy.

The sharp blow across her left cheek cleared the fuzziness inside her head more swiftly than she would have liked.

Tina gasped, feeling more pain from her ear and from her back. As she tried to straighten up she realized that both her arms were securely tied to a chair behind her, the rope pulled so tightly that the hemp had cut into flesh. Her hair was matted with blood and she could feel her ear throbbing where the ear-ring had been torn out. The wound hadn't been dressed but, as far as she could tell, it had stopped bleeding.

And what of the darkness?

It took her a moment to realize she was blindfolded. The cloth cut deeply across the bridge of her nose, fastened strongly at the back of her head so that it trapped some of her hair.

She raised her head slightly and felt another stinging blow on her other cheek.

The impact snapped her head to one side and almost knocked her from the chair. Tina gasped once more and tried to swallow but her throat was dry.

'Come on you rich slag, wake up,' a voice close to her hissed.

Tina blinked hard beneath the blindfold, trying to clear her mind, trying to concentrate on where she was even though she could see nothing. She could smell the rankness of the room. She could sense that there was more than one person present.

She tried to straighten up but the rope held her firmly, cutting more deeply into her skin as she moved. She felt a trickle of blood run down her hands.

'We should kill her,' snarled Paul Gardner.

He was lying in one comer of the room, his shirt off to reveal the wound he'd sustained earlier in the day. The bullet was still lodged in his neck and every time he turned his head he could feel it grating against his cracked collar bone. The blood had been washed away from around the bullet hole but the injury still looked ugly and it hurt like hell. Gardner sat up, wincing at the fresh wave of pain which washed over him.

'We can't kill her yet,' Michael Grant told him, gazing at their captive. 'She's still useful to us.'

He gazed at Tina. Her face and blouse were covered in blood, her fine blonde hair matted with the crimson gore now stiffened and congealed into a black mess.

'Who are you?' Tina asked quietly.

'Does that matter, bitch?' rasped Phillip Walton, cradling his slashed hand as he stood over her.

'We're your executioners,' Maria Chalfont giggled.

Tina shuddered at the words but did her best not to show her fear though she wondered what was to be gained by such bravado.

'Fucking rich cunt,' snapped Walton.

'If it's money you want then there's someone who'll pay ...' Tina began, but she was cut short by Grant.

'Money's the last thing we want,' he snarled.

'It's your
boyfriend
we want,' Jennifer Thomas added, her voice heavy with contempt.

Tina felt rough hands at the back of her head as the blindfold was yanked free. She frowned, blinking hard to clear her vision, gazing round the darkened room at her captors. She could almost feel the hatred in their stares.

'What do you want with Frank?' Tina asked.

'He's one of the enemy,' Jennifer Thomas told her. 'Just like you.'

'A rich bastard,' added Phillip Walton.

'Why didn't you kill me back at the flat?' she wanted to know.

'Even your sort have their uses,' Michael Grant informed her. 'He'll come to fetch you and we'll be waiting.'

'He won't come alone.'

'You'd better hope he does,' Grant told her, pulling the long-bladed knife from his belt. He pressed it gently to her throat, against the pulse just below her left ear.

Mark Paxton left the room, returning a moment later with a small cassette recorder.

'You're going to send your boyfriend a message,' Grant said.

'Why should I?’ Tina said defiantly. 'You're going to kill me anyway.'

As she tried to adjust her position in the chair she felt the rope grating against the skin, felt renewed pain from the remains of her severed little finger. It was throbbing powerfully. In fact, her whole body seemed to ache from her injuries. Her ear seemed to be burning, the portion of the lobe still hanging by a tendril of flesh. Bruises had formed on her face and neck and, as she licked her parched tongue over her teeth, she felt one of them loosen. Tina tasted blood.

'You're not in a position to bargain,' said Grant. 'Send the message.'

He pulled a piece of paper from his trouser pocket and held it in front of her.

Paxton set the tape running and pushed it towards her.

Tina began to read.

'Be at St Katherine's Dock at one a.m. tonight. Come alone. If you have anyone with you then the girl will be killed. We will be watching you.'

Frank Harrison snapped off the cassette recorder and sat back in his seat, gazing at the machine, the sound of Tina's voice still ringing in his ears.

'We'd better do what they say, Frank,' said Damien Drake, glancing fast at the tape and then at Harrison.

The gang boss was silent, his face drained of colour. He sat forward in the chair, rewound the tape and played it through once more.

Carter could hear the strain in Tina's voice, the harshness. The fear. And though it hurt him to imagine her suffering, he didn't show it in his expression.

The message finished and Harrison jabbed the off button once again. Then with a roar he picked the machine up and hurled it across the room. It shattered against the far wall, circuits and wires spilling from the smashed shell like mechanical intestines from a robotic abdomen. He rounded on Mitchell who had sat through both playings unmoved.

'Well, you're the professional. How do we get her out?' he snapped.

The hit man shrugged.

'They want you to go alone,' he said, quietly. 'And they say they'll be watching. There's no reason to think they'll be bluffing so you'd better play their game.'

'This is no fucking game, Mitchell. Christ knows what they'll do to Tina. What they've already done.' Harrison crossed the room to the drinks cabinet, pulled out a bottle of Haig and poured himself a large measure which he downed in one gulp, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

'You asked how we get her out,' Mitchell said. 'That's assuming they're holding her somewhere. The other possibility is that you'll be lured to the dock tonight and murdered there and then.'

'So, what do we do either way?' Carter wanted to know.

'It's
you
they want, Harrison.
You
go,' Mitchell said flatly.

'I offered you a million pounds to get her back. Isn't that enough?' snapped the gang boss.

Mitchell didn't answer.

'Look, we can't follow you if they're' watching, Frank,' Carter began. 'But we could be there first. Mitchell and I will get to St. Katherine's dock a couple of hours before, we'll keep well hidden. Wait for you.'

'And blow them away as soon as they show up,' Drake added gleefully.

'Then we'd never find Tina you prat,' Harrison said. He poured himself another whisky and wandered back across the room, interested to hear more of Carter's idea. 'So, you wait for me to arrive, then what?'

'If they've got Tina with them we hit them there and then, if not we follow you. You'll lead us straight to her.'

'Theoretically,' Mitchell intoned. 'What if they try to kill Harrison immediately?'

'Drake will be in the car with him,' Carter expanded. 'Either hidden on the back seat or maybe in the boot.'

Drake nodded.

Harrison exhaled deeply and took a sip of his drink.

'We can't be sure it'll work,' he said tetchily.

'It's all we've got, Frank,' Carter reminded him. 'A slim chance is better than no chance at all.'

Harrison grunted.

'Very philosophical.'

'Look, I care about what happens to Tina as much as you do,' Carter snapped and immediately regretted his words.

He saw Harrison's jaw tighten as he turned to face him. The gang boss's eyes narrowed as he glared at the driver.

'Why?' he demanded.

'Whoever's got her must be nutters,' Carter said, trying to edge out of a potentially explosive situation. 'My brother died and I've risked my neck so that you can run London, I don't want some other fucking loonies coming in and stirring up trouble again.'

'What's that got to do with Tina? How come you care so much about her?' Harrison wanted to know.

'Is that really important?' Mitchell wanted to know. 'You want her back, right? Then I suggest you stop arguing and decide exactly what you're going to do.'

Harrison glared at Carter for a moment and then turned and walked towards the window. The street below was quiet, the light from the street lamps reflected in the wet tarmac like puddles of liquid gold.

'We'll go with Carter's plan,' said the gang boss finally.