Cold Killers (43 page)

‘Eddie didn’t want anything to do with drug money,’ said Harold. ‘Never would have. He was against it.’

Tony kept quiet. Maxi stared out of the window, grateful to be ignored.

‘Eddie must have suspected something. He was upset when I saw him,’ said Harold. ‘He must have suspected that his business was being used to import cocaine. I suppose he was
bound to find out in the end. Manson couldn’t keep it a secret, not if you were expanding.’

Tony glanced across at Harold and then at Marco.

Marco shrugged. ‘Eddie was going to come in on the deal. I feel sure. Just others got to him first.’

‘Others?’

‘Yes, others. Now let’s leave this,’ said Tony, interrupting.

Marco was staring at Harold’s profile now as Harold drove. Tony was sitting in between them.

‘You were trying to force Eddie into taking on this deal,’ Harold said, ‘weren’t you?’ The van had become super-tense.

Marco shrugged. Tony remained silent but he had begun to fidget.

‘Is that how it was, Tony?’ asked Harold.

‘It wasn’t me who did it! I said to suggest it to him, not kill him.’

Harold drove in silence. He shook his head in disgust. Marco took his gun out and began cleaning it.

In the hire car, Laurence was in a happy mood. He was singing away to himself as he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and periodically he looked across at Della. She
pretended to be sleeping. It was getting difficult to cope with the pain. The sun was overhead, beating in through the car windows onto her face.

‘Don’t worry, Della, we’ll fix that face. A bit of surgery. No problem. I’ll pay for it. I’ll look after you from now on. You’ll be all mine. Of course,
it’s going to take me a while to forgive you for going back to your old boyfriend – I’m going to have to be tough on you, I’m afraid. There will be some punishment to be
administered. There are always consequences, after all.’

Della was grateful for the cool air when they stopped. She opened her eyes a little to see gates opening to a self-storage company and the Transit van in front of them. Marco had got out to open
the gates.

They drove inside and parked in front of a line of storage units. The place was deserted. Laurence opened her door.

‘Get out.’

Della opened her eyes a little more. Laurence reached in and undid her belt. He brushed her face with his shoulder. Della let out a muffled cry as the skin on her cheek folded back.

‘Well, move then and get out.’

Della watched Marco go inside a storage unit and then return, grinning, to the van.

‘Come.’ He ordered someone outside.

Della watched as a face she hadn’t seen for more than fifteen years looked at her and almost lost his footing.

‘Do you know her?’ asked Marco, stopping in his tracks.

Maxi shook his head.

Marco looked at Tony and Harold. They turned to Della. Laurence hissed into her burned face.

‘Do you know one another?’

Della rolled her eyes, shook her head.

Maxi followed Marco into the lockup; Tony followed. The others stood by the doors.

‘I need to sit somewhere. I need a good light,’ said Maxi. ‘This is going to take some time.’

The suitcase of diamonds was compartmentalised; the uncut stones were wrapped individually and the rest were grouped in boxes according to their carat and worth.

Della turned her face from the sun.

‘Can I sit in the shade, in the van?’ she asked Laurence.

‘No.’

‘Yes, she can,’ said Harold and he went into the boot of the van and brought out a first-aid kit.

‘Do your face, Della.’

She took the kit and went to sit in the cool of the van, the door open. The darkness was comforting.

Marco came into the van and took the keys to the motorbike and picked up a sub-machine gun from the back of the van.

He looked at Della and grinned.

‘No ideas.’

She used the mirror on the passenger seat and applied dots of antiseptic and pain-relieving cream. She swabbed her face with a dressing pad while keeping an eye on what was happening in the
lockup. Della hadn’t expected it to be someone she knew. Marco was watching every move as Maxi was jotting down his findings. After an hour Maxi got up to stretch his legs. He caught
Della’s eye and smiled.

The fact that he was a police officer gave her hope. She didn’t know whether he still was, but he must have been planted. She thought maybe she was being monitored, watched.

‘How much longer?’ Marco asked Maxi. ‘The shipment is being loaded at the docks right now. We need to hurry up.’

‘It’s a difficult process,’ he replied. ‘I have to grade every diamond. We could be here a long time. You were supposed to give me time to do this job.’

‘You just have to tell the Zapata family that these diamonds are worth over a hundred million pounds.’

‘I am not near that figure yet. You need to give me time.’

‘We don’t want to make the Crown Jewels out of them, for fuck’s sake,’ said Tony. Maxi nodded.

An hour later Tony was still pacing around the car park and Laurence called him back.

‘Okay, we’re there. We’re done.’

‘All good?’ asked Tony. Maxi nodded.

‘Okay. We have to go now.’ Tony shut the suitcase and Marco carried it into the van. They relocked the storage and Della went back to sit in the car with Laurence.

Maxi stood waiting by the van.

‘I can call a taxi,’ he said. ‘You don’t need to worry.’

‘Get in,’ said Marco.

‘My job is done. I can send them a written report.’

‘Get in, or I’ll shoot you.’

Before he got into the car Marco made a call to Jo. He made it discreetly so that he wouldn’t be overheard. He didn’t like loose ends. He didn’t like plan Bs.

‘Kill the policeman.’

Carter slumped down against the wall of the cellar. He dozed in and out of consciousness. Now that he was no longer suspended by his wrists, the blood had returned to his
shoulders and he felt the bond around his wrists had eased, stretched from the hanging. But the pain in his stomach came in sharp bursts with nausea, with breathlessness. The pain was growing all
the time. He moaned out loud. He opened his eyes and saw Jo walking towards him pulling a length of wire, wrapping it around his fist.

‘Time to say goodbye, my friend.’

Carter stayed slumped, groaning in pain. His eyes closed. He waited until Jo leaned across him with the wire and then Carter headbutted him. As Jo fell backwards Carter freed his hand from its
bond. He’d been working it loose for hours. The strength in his shoulders wasn’t there, so Carter used his body to push forwards on his knees and he headbutted Jo again, knocking him
hard as he tried to scramble back and out of the way. Jo’s forehead split open. Carter crawled after him. Jo picked up a piece of glass from the broken bottles piled in the corner and he
lunged forward at Carter, jabbing at his face, missing and scraping the side of Carter’s head. Carter swivelled his body round and kicked him hard, a double-footed punch kick. He sat back,
waiting, watching. Jo’s throat opened and blood began spurting. The shard of glass was poking out of his throat. Carter couldn’t have helped him, even if he’d wanted to.

‘Must be our chemist friends,’ said Laurence. Della opened her eyes enough to see the two men of South American origin. One wore glasses and was slim and slight;
the other was taller and younger. They shook hands with Marco. Laurence was watching the proceedings. Tony got out of the van next and shook their hands also. The older man opened up the door to
the barn and stepped inside, followed by Tony and Marco while the younger one went back inside the house. Harold was still in the van with Maxi. Della could sense the nervousness in Laurence. He
was muttering to himself. Occasionally Della felt his breath on her as he stared at her. She heard someone approaching the car. The back door of the car opened and Harold got in.

‘When is it arriving?’ asked Laurence as Harold made himself comfortable.

‘We’re waiting for a guy named Justino to call. He’s driving the lorry.’

‘Who is he?’

‘He’s someone big in the cartel. He has to be satisfied with everything. They’ve already received half of it in cash.’

‘I presume those were the chemists?’

‘Yes. I thought you’d been out here before,’ said Harold.

‘No.’

‘If you’re going to be taking over this side of things with Marco, you better get out of the car and go and see how it works.’

‘Why? What’s it got to do with me?’

‘You take over Eddie’s business and your name will be on the company that they’ll be using to bring the shipment in. Get in there, Laurence, and make sure you understand
it.’

Laurence got out of the car reluctantly and Harold waited till he was out of earshot.

‘You okay, Della?’

‘Will you help me, Harold?’

‘I’m going to have a hard job coming out of this day alive myself. You should have got away while you could. I suggested it, if you remember.’

‘Yeah,’ she sighed. ‘Do you know what’s happened to Inspector Carter?’

‘I know Marco ordered him dead. That’s all I know.’

Laurence walked back over to the car.

‘Tony wants you inside, Harold. The shipment is an hour away.’

‘Okay.’

Harold left. Laurence locked Della inside the car.

She watched them walk away. She had one thought now: if she didn’t get away now, the shipment would be here and it would be too late. She had to seize her moment.

Carefully, she opened the glove compartment and felt inside: she had Sellotaped an object to the roof. She pulled at it and took it down, took it out of its cloth bag. It was the knife
she’d been given by Johnny Mann, the Hong Kong detective. She tied the silk string around her wrist and tucked it up beneath her sleeve.

Twenty minutes later Laurence came to check on her again. He unlocked and opened the door and leaned over. His breath stung her face. The heat on her burned face was
rising.

‘Hello, sleepyhead.’ Laurence moved his hand up her leg to cradle her crotch. ‘You make a good hand warmer. You’re all warm and—’

Della stabbed him in the neck three times as she grabbed his head and held it locked in her lap. The warmth of his blood flooded over her thighs. When he stopped struggling she let him slip back
down on the ground beside the car. She reached down and found the car keys and her phone in his pocket and then she slipped across to the driver’s seat. Switching the engine on, she slammed
it into reverse, and ran over Laurence in the process. Shouts from the barn went up. She saw Tony running towards her. She turned the steering wheel full lock and put her foot flat on the
accelerator, spinning on the shingle. Behind her the air cracked with the sound of gunfire. She heard the metallic clunk as a bullet punctured the passenger door. She switched on her lights and
drove at full speed.

‘Where’s DS Willis?’ asked Bowie as he came into the inquiry team office to find everyone busy sorting the contents of Manson’s box. It was four thirty
in the afternoon.

‘She’s searching for DI Carter, sir,’ answered Robbo. ‘She wanted to check out a couple of places that Melvin photographed. Marco left traces of Eddie
Butcher at Melvin’s murder scene, perhaps from the instruments he brought with him or from his shoes. We know Eddie wasn’t moved far from where he was murdered because of the
post-mortem results and the lividity settlement in his body. She still feels that somewhere on Melvin’s East End Gangster tour is the answer to why Melvin was killed and where Eddie Butcher
died.’

Bowie nodded. ‘Inspector Ross has been in touch. He’s up in one of the helicopters searching for the laboratory as they lost the shipment when it was switched. Did you find any
possible sites?’

‘Yes. We’re tracing a few possibles, three of which are in Kent.’ The contents of Manson’s box were spread out across the three desks in the office. All other work had
stopped in MIT 17. The papers had been divided into groups according to type.

‘This is his Peruvian artefacts company,’ said Pam, as she added to a pile on the desk.

‘That makes at least twelve possible names that the shipment could be coming under.’

Robbo picked up the email.

‘Here’s our list of possible sites for the laboratory.’ He opened a file on the desk for Bowie to look at.

‘We are compiling as much information as possible on these last three. They are fifty miles apart, so I want to make sure we get the best chance of sending the helicopters to look at the
most likely one and not waste their time.’

‘Another delivery note to the farm in Sevenoaks,’ said Pam as she handed a piece of paper to Robbo.

‘Where’s this one?’ asked Robbo.

‘Here.’ She showed him a map of the area.

‘The delivery address on this is a piece of land outside Sevenoaks and it was bought at auction by Manson two years ago. It’s a detached bungalow set in sixteen acres. It was part of
a farm that was cut up and sold.’

‘The owner is a Mr Smithson,’ said Pam. ‘He’s a single occupant. He’s retired. There’s a photo of it now from satellite. Mr Smithson got permission to build a
large barn eighteen months ago but has largely left the bungalow unrestored.’

‘Does this man exist in any polling register?’ asked Bowie.

Pam shook her head. ‘But Smithson was Manson’s wife’s maiden name. It’s possible he got hold of those documents.’

‘It’s throwing off a lot of heat for a supposedly derelict barn,’ said Bowie as he examined the satellite images of the farm.

It was nearly five and the lights were still on in Lev’s bakery. The shop was still open. Willis parked by the church and started walking towards the Albert. She stood
outside and tried to see into the boarded-up windows but couldn’t. She stamped her feet on the delivery hatch in the pavement and squatted down to try to open it. It was locked. Willis got
out her keys and slid the thinnest one she had around the edge of the hatch. She pulled it out and looked at the residue. There was none, the hatch had been recently opened.