The Killing (28 page)

James whispered into his mouthpiece as they passed through the doorway. ‘We’re in.’

After pushing shut the door, they each grabbed cylinders – like mini fire extinguishers – out of their backpacks and pulled rubber gas masks over their faces. Kerry checked James’ mask was fitted properly and James returned the favour. They were halfway up the stairs when Dave called through their earpieces.

‘Back up, we’ve got movement in the bedroom.’

James and Kerry hurried stealthily down the staircase, as the light came on in the upstairs hallway. Patricia Patel stepped out of the bedroom. She checked on her sleeping daughter, before cutting into the bathroom.

Kerry whispered into her mouthpiece. ‘Do we pull out?’

‘Negative,’ Dave answered. ‘She’ll probably go back to bed. Stay in the house unless she starts coming down the stairs.’

Sure enough, Patricia flushed the toilet and wandered back to bed.

James peeled off his gas mask and spoke to Kerry. ‘We’ll have to wait until she’s gone back to sleep.’

01:16

Fifteen minutes dragged by as James and Kerry sat against the wall at the bottom of the staircase, listening to their heartbeats. When Dave gave the all-clear they refitted and rechecked their gas masks, before heading up the stairs again.

The
Patels
slept with their bedroom door open, so they could hear if their daughter woke up and started yelling. James and Kerry ripped safety collars from the necks of the gas canisters as they entered and crept around to opposite sides of the double bed. James held up three fingers and counted down. They both moved on zero.

James positioned the white cup on the top of the canister a few centimetres above Michael’s nose and mouth, before gently turning a screw to release the gas. Kerry’s task was more awkward, because Patricia slept with her face buried in a pillow. They each held the canisters in place and counted until their victims had inhaled seven times; enough gas to knock them out for two and a half hours.

Job done, they cut the flow of gas and backed out of the room. James ripped off his mask. Kerry did the same and they smiled at each other.

‘Good job,’ James grinned. Then he pressed the button to speak into his mouthpiece. ‘This is James. We’ve done the sleeping gas.’

‘Copy that,’ Dave said, through the earpiece. ‘I’ll meet you on the doorstep.’

‘Drive safe, James,’ John added. ‘And try not to wake the little girl up.’

John had checked out the Patel family’s medical records and discovered that three year old Charlotte suffered from asthma. This made using sleeping gas unacceptably risky, so John had settled on a less than ideal solution: Kerry would have to sit with Charlotte. Hopefully the toddler wouldn’t wake up. If she did, Kerry had a bottle of juice mixed with a mild sedative that would help her go back to sleep. If Charlotte mentioned what had happened in the morning, she was young enough that her parents would assume it was a dream.

While Kerry settled on to a beanbag next to Charlotte’s little bed, James headed downstairs. He let Dave in the front door, then began searching for the car keys. Dave had a backpack full of listening devices and would spend the next hour wiring up the
Patels
’ house so that no snippet of conversation got missed.

The keys were in Michael’s coat pocket. Dave stood on the kitchen table, replacing the light bulb with one containing a bug, as James made to leave.

‘I’m off,’ James said. ‘Keep an eye on Kerry if the brat wakes up. She’s hopeless with little kids.’

‘I will,’ Dave nodded. ‘Later, James.’

James headed out on to the driveway and climbed into the
Patels
’ car. He’d driven a few now, but he still got a buzz every time he lined up in front of a steering wheel looking at all the switches, knowing that there weren’t many kids his age that got to hare around in two tonnes of BMW. He pulled the seat forward so he could reach the pedals, belted up and turned the ignition key.

It was a nice drive, the roads were empty and the car had plenty of grunt. Unfortunately it was only five kilometres. He pulled up a turning at the side of a bridge and crawled along an unlit, cobbled lane with a line of railway arches along one side. The arches were mostly used for storage, but he passed a plumbing suppliers and a couple of auto repair shops. The last one had a light shining out of its open doorway. James turned cautiously into a floodlit garage filled with equipment for
respraying
cars.

John and Greg were waiting. They opened the doors on the passenger side before James had even got out. He’d parked next to a BMW 535i that looked identical in every detail to the
Patels
’ one. Not just in terms of model and colour: it had the same number plates, a small amount of parking damage on the front bumper had been carefully replicated and if you’d opened up the bonnet and done a detailed inspection, you’d have found the same serial numbers on the chassis and engine block. The only visible difference between the two cars was the personal effects inside the one that belonged to the
Patels
, and that was about to change.

John grabbed the rubber floor mats from the
Patels
’ car and transferred them to the duplicate. Greg dealt with the contents of the glove box, while James clambered into the back, pulled out the child seat and picked up dozens of Charlotte’s toys and books from the surrounding area.

While James struggled to fit the child seat into the back of the duplicate car, Greg transferred the pushchair and junk in the boot. John even went as far as to move the sweet wrappers in the ashtrays and the dried-out orange peel in the centre console. By the time they’d finished, there was no way the
Patels
would have been able to tell the duplicate car from their own.

‘Can I drive the copy back?’ James asked.

John shook his head. ‘No way. You need a bit of strength to drive this one, she’s an absolute pig. Greg’s gonna take you back to Palm Hill. You’ll need your beauty sleep, it’s gonna be hectic tomorrow.’

02:17

John pulled the BMW on to the front drive of the
Patels
’ house, being careful to position it in the exact spot James had removed the original from forty minutes earlier. It wasn’t easy because the power steering wasn’t rigged up properly and the wheels were out of alignment.

After climbing out, John raised the bonnet. He slid a screwdriver out of his jacket and used it to lever the top from the plastic compartment at the back of the engine bay that contained the engine management system. This consisted of a small blue circuit board with a row of microchips on it. John rocked the board loose from its socket and replaced it with an identical one that had been shorted out.

John got back into the driver’s seat and turned the ignition key. Instead of the engine starting, he got crazy beeping sounds and the indicator lights on the dashboard flickering like Christmas decorations. Satisfied that the car wouldn’t run, he locked it up and walked towards the house.

The front door was on the latch. After replacing the car keys in Michael’s jacket, John found Dave sitting on the living-room couch using a Palm Pilot handheld computer.

‘All set?’ John asked.

Dave nodded. ‘I’m running a diagnostic on the bugs. I’ve put in five altogether, which should cover the entire house. Chloe’s getting a strong signal back at the hotel. Did everything go OK with the car?’

‘Pretty much. You need to be a pro-wrestler to steer that thing though.’

Dave grinned. ‘Hardly surprising under the circumstances.’

‘You can head back to Palm Hill if you’re done here,’ John said. ‘I know you’ve got to be in work early tomorrow.’

‘What about Kerry?’

‘Oh, I forgot she’s still up there,’ John grinned. ‘Do you mind dropping her off at the hotel on your way home? I’ll have to sit it out here for at least another couple of hours. We can’t have Charlotte waking up and roaming the house while her parents are unconscious.’

‘No worries,’ Dave said.

John reached into his trousers and pulled out a set of car keys. ‘I’ll take the van, because we’ll need it back here tomorrow morning. These are for a little yellow Mitsubishi; it’s parked up the top of the road, about a hundred metres on the left.’

‘Cheers, John,’ Dave said, as he swiped the keys and stood up. ‘So far so good eh?’

‘Touch wood,’ John replied, as he leaned forward and tapped his fingers on the top of the coffee table. ‘Have a safe drive home and good luck with Leon at the car lot tomorrow.’

07:59

Kerry woke up with bits of popcorn stuck to her legs. They’d tidied up, but she was still finding it everywhere, including between her bedclothes. She’d had less than five hours’ sleep, but she wanted to know how the mission was progressing.

She looked across to the next bed and realised Lauren was already up, then slipped into the grubby jeans and T-shirt she’d worn the night before and scooted across to the bathroom. After a pee and a quick gargle of mouthwash, she found Lauren, Chloe and John gathered around the surveillance equipment in the adjoining room. All three wore headsets.

‘What did I miss?’

‘Morning, Kerry,’ John smiled. ‘Nothing huge. We’re just ear-wigging on some domestic disharmony.’

Lauren pulled a headphone out of one ear and held it out for Kerry. ‘It’s hilarious actually,’ she explained. ‘Michael and Patricia are having a row over who takes Charlotte to nursery. Charlotte chucked a fit. She hurled her cereal bowl and called her daddy a
 
bum head
.’

‘Mike has mentioned Millie ringing about the complaint,’ Chloe added. ‘He hasn’t admitted anything, but it’s definitely playing on his mind.’

Kerry squeezed on to the edge of Lauren’s chair and plugged the foam-covered loudspeaker into her ear. The sound from the bug Dave had fitted into the kitchen light was excellent: she could hear all the little details, like Charlotte murmuring to herself and the washing machine going around.

08:25

Over at Palm Hill, James and Dave sat at their dining table eating bacon sandwiches. James was finishing a long explanation about what had happened with Kerry the night before. Dave didn’t exactly look fascinated.

‘It was wild, Dave,’ James enthused. ‘I don’t know where I found the guts to do it, but it was the best kiss
 
ever
. Like a million volts of electricity, or something. But now she’s back to not talking to me again. Except she is, kind of, when she feels like it … What do you reckon I should do?’

Dave leaned back in his chair and scratched beneath the logo on his greasy
 
Tarasov Prestige Motors
 
polo shirt. ‘Tricky,’ Dave said. ‘I mean, she kissed you, which means she obviously still fancies you.’

James nodded. ‘That’s what I thought.’

‘And there’s definitely no other boyfriend in the equation?’

‘Not that I know of.’

‘And she dumped you and threw your boots at your head, then went really nuts when you battered poor little Andy?’

James nodded again.

‘Sounds like more trouble than it’s worth to me. What’s wrong with Hannah anyway?’

‘There’s nothing wrong with Hannah, but we’ll probably be out of here in a few days, so I’m not letting myself get too fond of her.’

‘Sensible,’ Dave said. ‘What I don’t get is, why are you so hung up about Kerry? I mean, she’s nice, but there’s nothing really special about her.’

James bit the crust of his sandwich and shrugged. ‘I
dunno
. I just really like Kerry. Haven’t you ever had one girl that you’ve really, really, liked and you can’t get her out of your head?’

‘Nah,’ Dave grinned. ‘I can think of a couple of girls who’ve felt that way about me, but that’s perfectly understandable.’

‘It could have been a one-off,’ James said. ‘You know? Like, she kissed me on the spur of the moment, but she really doesn’t want to go out with me. Or it could be that she wants to get back with me and she’s expecting me to make the next move. Do you think I should buy her a present, or try talking to her, or something?’

Dave leaned forward and pointed his finger. James got excited, expecting to hear the solution to all his problems.

‘You see, here’s the thing,’ Dave said, waggling the finger and pausing to build up the suspense. ‘I really don’t give a monkey’s about your love life.’

James pounded angrily on the tabletop. ‘Thanks,
 
mate
. I thought with all the girlfriends you’d had you might help me sort this out.’

Dave laughed as he crammed the last bit of his bacon sandwich in his mouth. ‘I’m off to work. I’ve got more important things to worry about than your train-wreck relationship with Kerry Chang.’

08:27

Patricia Patel emerged on to the driveway holding Charlotte in her arms. She had no clue that a CIB officer was sitting inside the grey van parked less than twenty metres away, videoing her every move.

She put Charlotte down beside the silver BMW and gave the little girl a
Tweenies
lunchbox to hold while she adjusted the straps on the baby seat inside. They were all out of kilter for some reason. After her daughter was safely strapped in the back, Patricia belted up in the front and turned the ignition key.