The Traitor's Story (25 page)

Chapter Thirty-One

Finn swung his legs off the sofa, picked up his gun, stepped over his boots, and moved between the furniture shadows toward the door. He could hear the deep breaths of sleep coming from Ethan and Debbie’s room, but even in the dark he could see that Hailey’s door was open.

He didn’t know what Taylor had in mind, and didn’t know how long he’d been in the apartment. Finn could only hope that the gentle click of the front door had filtered through to his sleep, that Taylor was only a step ahead of him. He sacrificed stealth now, moving quickly to Hailey’s door, pushing it open, reaching in with one hand to turn on the light.

Immediately through the glare he saw a figure near the bed—crouching or sitting, he couldn’t be sure—and aimed his gun, blinking through the light-blindness, knowing at least that Taylor would be doing the same.

A second crept by, he heard a muffled cry from Hailey, saw the guy’s head, the dark hair, the tan mentioned by Grasset.

Finn kept his voice calm and low as he said, “Keep very still or I pull the trigger.”

“No, you keep very still or I’ll ram this right into her neck.” He had a vague London accent, and at first Finn struggled to understand his meaning. He saw the one hand over Hailey’s mouth, her alarmed eyes, her own terrified stillness, and then he saw the reason for it and he understood what Taylor had meant.

With his other hand, Taylor was holding a syringe against the side of Hailey’s neck, the point of the needle touching the skin, his thumb on the plunger. Finn looked at Hailey’s eyes, and for a moment he considered pulling the trigger anyway, confident at this range of hitting Taylor clean in the head.

But he had no idea what was in the syringe, and for all he knew, the shock of being hit could be enough in itself for him to puncture her flesh, to drive the needle in. Taylor knew that, too, and smiled. Finn could see immediately how this guy would have relished killing Jonas, and as desperate as he was to put a bullet in Taylor’s head, he lowered his gun.

“Your plan’s blown, Liam.”

Finn heard movement in the apartment behind him, as Ethan and Debbie woke, realized something was wrong, clambered out of bed.

Taylor looked derisive and said, “Who are you calling Liam? You’ve got a very short time to learn some lessons, like you’re Harrington and I’m Mr. Taylor. Or you can call me sir.”

“I like Mr. Taylor. My family used to have a greengrocer called Taylor.”

“Finn?” It was Debbie emerging from their room.

Then he heard, “Oh God, stay here,” as Ethan followed her and realized immediately that something was very wrong.

Taylor didn’t hear them, still busy being unimpressed by Finn’s joke. He turned and smiled at Hailey, and removed his hand from her mouth like a magician producing a bunch of flowers from his sleeve. She gasped, but remained still and silent.

Taylor reached inside his jacket with his free hand and pulled a
gun. He waved it at Finn as he said, “Put the piece down, Harrington.”

“The piece?” Finn didn’t wait for a reply, but nor did he put the gun down. “What’s your plan, Mr. Taylor? Whatever’s in that syringe, there’s no making it look like an accident now, and I doubt Perry or Karasek would be too well-disposed if you ended up murdering her, me, her parents. The whole point is to keep the police out of it.”

Finn could sense that Ethan and Debbie had appeared in the doorway behind him, and Taylor’s eyes briefly leapt over his shoulders before settling back on Finn.

“My plan’s simple, Harrington—you do what I say or I’m gonna drive this needle into her neck and then I’m gonna kill you, her parents, and the neighbors too, police or no police. You understand me now? Put. The gun. Down.”

Behind him, Ethan said, “Don’t do it, Finn.”

“It’s okay, Ethan. I’m sure Liam Taylor of Brac Global Systems knows what he’s doing, and I’m sure his boss, Ed Perry, knows what he’s doing, too.”

Taylor looked nervous, confused by the way Finn was speaking, and said, “What are you playing at? What are you up to?” He looked around the room, worried perhaps that it was bugged. “Just put the gun on the chest of drawers over there.”

“Whatever you say.” Finn moved cautiously and placed the gun on the chest of drawers, and Taylor gestured for him to move back to the doorway. Taylor nodded then, satisfied, and removed the needle from the side of Hailey’s neck. She sighed with relief and closed her eyes, but still didn’t move.

Taylor stood and said, “You two, back away, against that wall.” Finn heard the rustle of Ethan and Debbie’s nightclothes as they stepped backward. Taylor looked at Finn. “Move that way, to the side.”

Finn moved, and Taylor started to edge toward the doorway, covering all his angles, even Hailey behind him, the syringe still in one hand, the gun in the other.

Finn waited until he was almost at the door and said, “This is your plan? To just leave? What kind of operative are you, Liam? The police are involved now—we’ll call them as soon as you’ve gone. They’ll link you from here to Jonas’s death. Then you’ll talk, implicate Perry and Karasek.”

Taylor knew Finn was baiting him but couldn’t resist saying, “Talk—me? There’s no police force in the world could make me do that.”

“Yeah, Liam, I think you and I both know there probably is. You’ll talk. Perry and Karasek will still get off the hook, but they’ll come after you, whichever prison you’re in. No, there’s only one professional solution to this situation—you have to kill all of us.”

He heard some garbled words from Ethan.

Taylor laughed, making clear he could see through what Finn was doing, but he still said, “Who do you think you are?”

“I’m nobody. I’m just telling you that if you were at all professional, you’d kill every one of us. Of course, if you were at all professional we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Taylor gave another little dismissive laugh and shook his head, then looked as if he was ready to walk away, a moment of theatricality that was meant to take Finn by surprise but was too easy to read. As Taylor turned sharply back, Finn was ready for him.

The only thing Finn didn’t know was whether he’d strike him with the gun or go for him with the syringe. It should have been no contest, but Taylor seemed briefly torn, readying his thumb on the syringe before realizing there was only one option. He produced a quick punching backhand, but even then, seemed undecided as to whether he should swipe Finn’s face with the whole gun or plant the butt into his cheek.

It didn’t matter. Finn saw the hand fly in toward him, grabbed it, spun him around. Taylor was muscular, solid, but there was no strength in him, either because he was disoriented or because the bulk had come through steroids.

Finn was behind him now, holding the gun hand pointing toward the ceiling. Taylor’s finger was still on the trigger but he didn’t even have the sense to fire a round—maybe he was still wedded to the idea of stealth. Instead, he thrust the other arm backward, trying to hit Finn with the syringe.

Finn edged away from the first thrust, then as he tried to swing again Finn grabbed that hand and drove the syringe into Taylor’s thigh, putting his hand over Taylor’s thumb and driving the plunger home.

Taylor let out a small squeal and started to kick and flail. Finn drove him forward, smashing him into the doorframe, Taylor’s gun arm slamming awkwardly into the woodwork, and Finn’s fingers, too. For just a moment, Finn let go, and Taylor’s arm recoiled across his body. Finn slammed him forward again and turned him. He pulled the gun free and pushed it flat against Taylor’s abdomen, pressing it into the soft flesh of his belly until the barrel was pointing up at the inside of his ribcage.

Taylor’s face contorted, a moment of total fear as he understood what was about to happen. Finn pressed the trigger, the gun kicking a bruise across the surface of the flesh, the muffled bang still shattering the air, Taylor’s body going into a strange visceral spasm as the bullet spun off bone and through the tissues of his chest cavity.

Finn caught the body as it crumpled, lowering it to the floor, Taylor’s startled face looking as if he was still trying to work out what had just happened inside his chest. Finn couldn’t see or feel an exit wound, and only a little blood trickled slowly out of Taylor’s mouth. The bullet had stayed inside him, which would make him easier to transport.

He took the gun, wiping it clean on his shirt before pressing it back into Taylor’s hand, and only now did he realize that Ethan and Debbie were both talking, mild but shocked expletives, talking about the noise, wondering if the neighbors had heard, wondering above all what they were meant to do now.

Finn didn’t look at them but at Hailey. She sat up, throwing the duvet back, put her hand to her neck where the needle had been. She glanced at the body, but only briefly, and then up at Finn.

Finn moved toward her and said, “Did it break the skin?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. Will you look?”

She tilted her head to the side and grimaced, as if dreading what he might find there. He looked at the smooth flesh of her neck, his fingers gently probing to find a telltale red pinprick, relieved that there was none. Her neck was hot, like a child who’d been suffering a fever, and he was fearful after the fact now, realizing how easily he could have come in here and found that skin cold and unyielding.

“You’re okay.”

“Thanks.” She looked up at him and smiled, trying to show him how all-encompassing that single word was meant to be.

He nodded, and then noticed a plastic bag on the floor next to the bed. As he picked it up, Ethan and Debbie rushed forward—a delayed reaction—throwing themselves at Hailey, bombarding her with affection and assurances.

The bag was full of junkie paraphernalia. It was crude, but he guessed the syringe that was still lodged in Taylor’s leg contained heroin, and given Hailey’s recent history, maybe that would have been enough for the police to dismiss the Portmans as the ultimately delusional parents.

Ethan saw the bag and said, “Is that heroin?” Finn nodded. “What are we gonna do? I mean, about him?”

Finn checked his watch. “For the next hour we do nothing. If any of the neighbors have called the police, we’ll know by then, and we’ll tell them the truth, that he broke in, tried to kill Hailey, I intercepted him and killed him in self-defense.”

Ethan shook his head. “No, I killed him. It’d be odd explaining why you were staying in our apartment.”

Finn accepted the point but said, “It shouldn’t come to that. It’s good that nobody screamed. A single gunshot’s a funny thing—was it a gunshot, wasn’t it? It’s hard to tell.”

“And if the police don’t come?”

“I’ll get rid of the body and we never talk about this again.”

Debbie said, “You just killed a man. There’s a dead man lying right here in front of us.” She stared at Taylor now, in compulsion and horror.

Ethan said, “Debbie, don’t look at it. Finn did what he had to do to save Hailey.” He looked at Finn, a tacit acknowledgment that his words had only been half true, that it had been a preemptive strike as much as an immediate life or death intervention. “I only wish I could’ve killed him myself.”

“Just be glad he’s dead.”

Finn went over to the body and patted it down. There were no car keys, which seemed strange. Then he found a door key and suddenly realized what he’d been missing the whole time as he’d looked out onto the street. Taylor hadn’t been out on the street, he hadn’t been booked into a hotel—he’d been in the empty BGS apartment.

“I’ll be back in a minute.”

He crossed the corridor and opened the door into Gibson’s old apartment. The light was on in the kitchen, and it was soon clear that Taylor had pretty much limited himself to that room. His car keys were on the table, as was a plastic bag with various items of food and drink bought from a convenience store. Whatever he’d eaten or drunk, he’d put the remainders and the wrapping back into the bag. The rest of the apartment was empty.

Finn took the bag and the keys back to the Portmans’ apartment, and found the tableau of the family exactly as he’d left it. They looked at him expectantly.

“You all realize this is something you can never speak of again. In a day or two this will make the news, and you have to be as shocked and appalled as everyone else.” He got three assenting nods. “Okay. I’ll use his keys to locate his car. There’s a quiet spot I know on the lakeshore. I’ll drive him there, leave the drugs in the car, drop his body at the water’s edge. He’ll have taken heroin and then shot himself. There’ll be no good reason for looking too hard for other explanations. Ethan, you’ll follow me five minutes later in your car, pick me up and bring me back.”

Ethan nodded.

“And as soon as I can in the morning, I’ll be flying to London.”

That unsettled Hailey, and she stood and said, “How long will you be away?”

“A couple of days, maybe. Look, I’ll be straight with you, this isn’t done yet, and you still need to be vigilant. I don’t think they’ll come for you again, but I need to speak to some people and put BGS out of business—it’s the only way I’ll be convinced you’re safe.”

“And you?”

He smiled. “If they’d wanted me dead it would’ve been a lot easier. But you’re right, I need to find out what they want from me, then maybe we can all get on with living our lives.”

He looked down at Taylor, his face tanned and healthy, peacefully reposed except for the syringe in his thigh, the trickle of blood from his mouth. He wasn’t sure how any of the Portmans could get on with their lives after this, how any of them could go back to where they’d been two weeks ago.

For his part, turning the clock back by two weeks wouldn’t be enough. He needed to rebuild from much farther back in his own history, and he wouldn’t be able to do that as long as this remained unfinished.

Even if she wanted to return, how could he ever think of having Adrienne back? Because there would be other Gibsons, other Taylors, and he could keep killing them but unless he went to the source, to Karasek and Perry, he’d never be certain of being free from that past. The choice had finally been made for him and, one way or another, he was determined this would be ended.