No Going Back (18 page)

Kat laughed. A rare occurrence.

‘No. Hilary said if she cut it, I would end up looking like a horse! A lady came to the house to do Hilary's and she did mine too.' She tossed her head like an actress in a shampoo commercial. ‘It looks nice, yes?'

‘It looks very nice,' Daniel agreed.

The body on Dartmoor dominated the local news that night, with a great deal of time being devoted to moody shots of the moor under a lowering sky, which suggested a certain artistic licence, as the day had been bright and clear. An Inspector Mike Rutledge was interviewed at length by a young reporter who managed to extract little of importance from him.

The matter also had a slot on the national news, but their reporter had got one over on his local counterpart by discovering that the young woman was thought to be in her mid-to late twenties, and that unconfirmed reports suggested that she might have died of a drug overdose combined with exposure.

Naylor and Innes appeared on screen for no more than a couple of seconds, but it was plenty of time for Daniel to confirm their identities.

‘I bet Inspector Rutledge would love to know what his sergeant gets up to when he's off duty,' Hilary commented.

‘Well, he's not going to hear it from me,' Daniel responded. ‘Been there, done that.'

‘Got the T-shirt?' Hilary suggested.

‘There wasn't one,' he said without humour.

Katya said little during the meal that evening and went up to bed straight afterwards, complaining of a headache, leaving Hilary and Daniel drinking coffee in front of the wood-burning stove in the sitting room, where the chairs were more comfortable.

‘So, is now a good time to tell me about it?' Hilary asked, after a long silence punctuated only by the popping and crackling of the fire.

Daniel didn't answer, but neither did he pretend to misunderstand.

‘What's the matter? Don't you trust me?'

‘More than almost anyone I know,' he assured her. ‘But it was all such a bloody mess . . .'

A log settled in the burner, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney, and Taz lifted his head enquiringly before settling back into his position at Daniel's feet.

Daniel took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. To revisit that time would be to touch a raw place, like lifting the dressing on a broken blister. Didn't he have nightmares enough without stirring up the memories afresh?

‘Come on, Daniel,' she said gently, ‘it obviously still bothers you. Won't you tell me? I'm a good listener and I want to understand. Why did you give up your career?'

‘I didn't have a lot of choice,' he said finally. ‘I went from being one of the lads to being the station pariah and it was compromising my work.'

Still watching the flames, Daniel began to tell his story for the very first time, and having started, the words flowed like pus from a lanced boil.

As Daniel eased himself out of the deep, saggy armchair shortly before eleven o'clock, it seemed as if there wasn't a fibre of his body that wasn't protesting. The physical effects of the morning's ride, combined with lack of sleep, had left him aching and drained of energy.

‘Poor old man!' Hilary exclaimed, seeing his grimace.

‘It's no joking matter,' Daniel said severely. ‘I may never walk properly again.'

She put her hand on his arm as he turned towards the door. ‘Daniel, you should tell Tamzin what you've told me, you know. She'd understand.'

‘Yeah, maybe one day.'

His reply sounded unconvincing, even to himself, and Hilary gave him a long look before saying, ‘Well, that's up to you, of course, but anyway, thanks for trusting me. I know it was hard, and I suspect you haven't told me everything, but that's OK.'

‘Well . . . thanks for listening,' he said with a touch of awkwardness. ‘And for not judging me.'

‘That's ridiculous. What right do I have to judge you?'

Daniel gave her a half-smile. ‘Tell that to the people I worked with for ten years.'

The night was clear and cold, and Daniel drove fast, thinking of his bed and wishing the flat above the empty showroom had central heating.

It had been a long day, and after a short distance, a combination of the warmth of the heater and the relaxing strains of a classical music station on the car stereo began to induce a dangerous state of drowsiness. Well aware of the danger and its possible consequences, Daniel gave himself a mental shake, opened a window to the icy night air for a spell and searched for something more stimulating on the radio.

Arriving back at his flat, some fifteen minutes later, Daniel swung the car thankfully into the drive and had to brake hard to avoid ploughing into a green plastic wheelie bin that lay prostrate across his path. Groaning at the necessity of stirring his tender muscles to action once more, Daniel opened the car door and went to shift the bin to one side. If it was his own, he didn't know what it was doing this far from the yard and could only imagine that bored kids must have dragged it round.

If Daniel's conscious mind was dulled by tiredness, at least his subconscious was still in good order. As he bent to lay his hands on the smooth plastic of the bin, some slight sound behind him – just the displacement of a pebble, maybe – brought his survival instincts surging to the fore.

Without stopping to consider, he dived forward over the bin to hit the ground shoulder first and rolled, bringing the plastic container across his body as a shield.

A split second later, Daniel felt a heavy impact through the tough plastic as a knife, which had no doubt been intended to sink between his shoulder blades, hit the shiny surface and glanced sideways, its point lancing through the palm of his left hand.

EIGHT

D
aniel's quick reaction not only saved his life, but had the added bonus of throwing his attacker off-balance, momentum carrying the man on to stumble over the top of his intended target and land sprawling on the gravel beside him.

Intensely aware that danger lay only the width of the wheelie bin away, Daniel heaved the thing with some force at the knifeman and scrambled to put distance between them as quickly as he could.

His plan – his only thought – was to get to the back of the Mercedes and let the dog out. Alone and unarmed, the advantage lay strongly with his attacker; with Taz in the equation, the balance would swing back overwhelmingly in Daniel's favour. Salvation was just a few short yards away, but it was clear that the knifeman knew that too, for as Daniel made it to all fours, his right foot was grasped and jerked backwards, dropping him abruptly on to his face.

With nothing to hold on to, Daniel found himself being dragged relentlessly back into perilous proximity of the knife. Expecting, at any moment, to feel the plunge of cold steel into the muscle of his thigh or buttock, Daniel tried to take the offensive by kicking out high and hard with his left foot.

A grunt indicated that it had made contact, but the hold on his right ankle remained firm, so he twisted on to his back and by the light of the car headlamps tried again, this time landing a vicious heel against his attacker's jaw.

Christ, the man was tough!

Even though his head snapped back at the impact, the knifeman's grip on Daniel's ankle seemed to tighten rather than relax.

Daniel lashed out a second time and twisted on to his stomach, desperate to cover up. The glimpse of the knifeman's face had confirmed his identity.

Anghel Macek.

He had the look of a man on a mission, and it didn't take a genius to guess what that mission was.

For an instant, Daniel thought his wild kick had achieved its purpose, for the vice-like grip on his ankle eased, but moments later the whole, and not inconsiderable, weight of Macek's body landed on his back, flattening him face-down on the gravel, and driving the air from his lungs.

Gasping for breath and unable to move, Daniel was powerless. In the car he could hear Taz going wild with a frustration that echoed his own, but just at the moment the dog might as well be the other side of Devon for all the help he could offer.

The Romanian took advantage of the moment to shift his weight further up Daniel's body, slipping his forearm under Daniel's chin and wrenching back his head.

Now completely immobilized, Daniel waited the space of several painful heartbeats for the cold edge of the blade to slice through his windpipe, severing the life-sustaining arteries and letting his blood drain away into the gravel.

He had seen bodies with such injuries in the course of his career, and wondered in an almost detached way who would find his. Would it be Naylor and his ginger partner, Innes? He imagined Innes taking one look and throwing up in the hedge. The image of Naylor gloating over his dead body brought a surge of anger and frustration.

Seconds passed and a glimmer of hope squeezed through. What was the man waiting for? Had he perhaps dropped his knife?

Even as he thought it, Macek shifted his weight forward a few more inches until Daniel could hear his coarse breathing next to his right ear. He was assailed by a strong smell of garlic.

‘Where's the girl?' the Romanian growled.

‘With the police.' Daniel's words came out in little more than a whisper.

Macek's arm tightened momentarily and darkness flashed behind Daniel's eyes.

‘You lie!' he hissed. ‘Where is she?'

Daniel knew his outlook was bleak, irrespective of whether he gave Macek what he wanted, and he was damned if he was going to hand the man a complete victory. With what was left of his breath he somewhat recklessly told the Romanian where he could go.

‘No dog to save you this time,' Macek warned him as the darkness pressed in once more. ‘This time you die!'

Daniel wasn't sure if Macek intended strangling him or breaking his neck – the end result would be the same – but in moving close to deliver his chilling promise, the Romanian had made a mistake, and as the pressure on his trachea increased, Daniel made one last, desperate bid for life. Throwing his head still further back and to the side, he felt a satisfying crunch as his skull connected with Macek's nose.

The Romanian cursed and for a split second the stranglehold eased just a fraction.

In that instant, Daniel reached up with his right hand, twisted his fingers in Macek's hair and yanked the man's head forward. Standard girly tactic – hair pulling – but he wasn't proud, and what's more it was surprisingly effective. With his head held next to Daniel's, the Romanian no longer had the leverage to complete the strangulation.

They had an impasse, which Macek broke by lifting his body to try and break Daniel's hold. That was his second mistake.

The instant he felt the weight lift, Daniel erupted into action, somehow drawing enough strength to push upwards and sideways, tipping the Romanian off-balance while his head remained anchored painfully by Daniel's unrelenting hold on his hair.

At this point, with his body no longer pinned to the ground, Daniel decided to cut his losses. He was under no illusions that his strength came anywhere near matching that of the bigger man. So, as the pressure on his windpipe eased, he brought his knees under him, gave the Romanian's hair one last vicious tug, which had the effect of bringing Macek's forehead into forcible contact with the ground, then heaved him sideways and scrambled away with as much speed as he could.

Macek was a big man, taller than Daniel, and quite possibly some 10 or 15 kilos heavier, but unfortunately for Daniel, the Romanian's bulk didn't seem to slow him down at all. Daniel made it to his feet and as far as the front of the car before he was tackled from behind and brought crashing down on the bonnet with a force that made the suspension bounce and the breath leave his lungs for the third time in as many minutes.

Afraid that Macek would attempt to repeat his stranglehold, Daniel brought his arms up close on either side of his face, shielding his neck, and the Romanian responded by pulling him away from the car by the collar of his leather jacket and throwing him to the ground once more.

Daniel wasn't about to get caught in the same trap again. Even struggling for breath as he was, he had no sooner hit the gravel than he was rolling over and over to gain distance and confuse Macek's aim. After three revolutions, he came up against the fallen wheelie bin and looked up to see the Romanian's approaching form haloed in the headlamps.

Darkness – that's what he needed. If only he could reach the shadows by the wall of the building, he might conceivably be able to slip past the other man and get to the back of the car.

Remembering a tip from his Asian colleague Jo-Ji, Daniel pulled his knees up and went into a backward roll to confuse the Romanian. Macek was so close it didn't seem possible that Daniel would make it, but somehow he did, landing on his knees and getting quickly to his feet beyond the glare of the headlights.

Keeping close to the wall, Daniel moved swiftly towards the rear of the vehicle, the noise of his progress masked by the sound of the engine. For a moment he dared to hope that his tactics had worked, but he'd underestimated the Romanian. When he drew level with the tailgate of the car, he found Macek there before him, and to make matters worse, he'd been reunited with his knife. Six inches of razor-sharp steel reflected the moonlight, and as Daniel already knew to his cost, the Romanian wouldn't hesitate to use it.

Inside the Mercedes, Taz was beside himself with rage, the back of the car rocking wildly as he threw himself at the tough metal grille of the tailgate guard.

Macek ignored him. The driver's door was still open and in the faint glow from the car's courtesy light Daniel could see Macek's head moving from side to side, indicating that he wasn't sure exactly where his quarry was.

‘Where are you, my friend? Come to Dada,' the Romanian invited, his teeth showing in an unpleasant smile as he held the knife up, twisting it to catch the light.