Vance closed the bathroom door and set the shower running. Terry was like a pet dog. Whatever Vance asked for, it would be there, on the double. No matter how many demands Vance made, it seemed that Terry still felt like he was the one who owed the debt. It all rested on one simple thing. Back when he’d been a national hero, Vance had spent hours by the bedside of Terry’s twin sister Phyllis as she lay dying from the cancer that had rampaged through her body. Terry had thought Vance was acting out of compassion. He’d never understood that Vance sat by the beds of the dying because he liked to watch their lives leaking away. He enjoyed watching the humanity leach out of them till they were nothing more than a shell. Luckily for him, that had never even occurred to Terry as a possible motive for what he’d seen as an act of profound kindness. Phyllis had always loved
Vance removed his prosthesis and stepped into the shower, luxuriating in an endless flow of water whose temperature was entirely under his control. It was bliss. He washed himself from head to toe with an expensive shower gel that smelled of real lime and cinnamon. He scrubbed the tattoo off his neck then shaved the goatee off, leaving the moustache. He stood under the water for a long time, savouring the sense of being master of his own destiny again. Eventually, the tattoo transfer began to slip, slithering down his arm like a Dali print. Vance rubbed his arm against his chest and stomach, helping it to dissolve into a gluey puddle then to disappear down the drain, flushing away all traces of Jason’s body art.
He stepped out of the shower and wrapped himself in a thick towel. It felt impossibly soft against his skin. Next, he covered the artificial skin of his prosthesis in shower gel and eased the tattoo sleeve off, again letting it dissolve and slip away, leaving no sign of what had happened there. As he dried himself, Vance’s thoughts slipped back to Terry. He’d perjured himself for Vance. Who knew how many criminal offences he’d committed in the past year on Vance’s behalf – everything from obtaining false ID to money laundering. He’d set up the practicalities of Vance’s escape. There had never been even a hint that he might betray the man he still hero-worshipped. And yet …
The fact that Terry was the man who knew too much was inescapable. He’d kept the faith for so long because he’d managed to convince himself that Vance was innocent. It was impossible for him to believe that the man who had made his sister’s last weeks bearable could also be a killer. But this time, it would be different. Vance had plans. Hellish plans. And when the terror started, when the full revelation of his revenge became clear, there would be no wriggle room for doubts. Not even Terry could fly in the face of that coming storm. Terry would have to accept some personal responsibility for the havoc Vance planned to wreak. It would be a terrible moment for him. But there was no escaping the fact that Terry was a man who had the courage of his convictions. Having stood four square behind Vance for so long, the realisation of his error would send Terry straight into the arms of the police. He wouldn’t be able to help himself.
Which incontrovertibly made Terry the man who knew too much. For him to reveal what he had done, to lay out the knowledge he possessed would be the end of everything. That was something Vance couldn’t allow to happen.
13
Detective Sergeant Alvin Ambrose tried not to fret too much as he endured the security checks he had to go through to get into Oakworth Prison. Body scans, metal detectors, give up your phones, hand over your radio … If they took as much care with the people they let out, he wouldn’t be here right now.
Not that he should be here, by rights. True, Oakworth was on West Mercia’s patch and close enough to Worcester to make the escape the indisputable responsibility of the city’s CID. That meant, Ambrose thought, that this assignment should have been handled by his boss. But ever since Carol Jordan’s appointment to the job he’d wanted had been announced, it seemed like DI Stuart Patterson had gone on strike. Everything he could shunt Ambrose’s way was dumped on the sergeant’s desk. And so it was with this. Any hope Ambrose had had of seeing his boss take charge had vanished as soon as the identity of the escaped prisoner was revealed. That Carol Jordan had been involved in his initial arrest had simply cemented what was becoming standard operating procedure in their office.
As far as the head of CID was concerned, Patterson was handling the case. The reality was that Ambrose was fronting it up. Never mind that the prison governor would expect a higher rank than sergeant to be leading the hunt for a dangerous escapee like Vance. Ambrose was just going to have to lump it and rely on his formidable presence to get him through. At least he might be able to call on Carol Jordan’s expertise ahead of her arrival in Worcester. When he’d worked with her before, he’d been impressed. It wasn’t easy to impress Alvin Ambrose.
At last, he was through the checks and through the sally port and trailing down a corridor to an office where a surprisingly young man was sitting behind a cluttered desk. He jumped up, holding his swinging jacket front down with one hand, sticking out the other to greet Ambrose. He was tall and rangy, full of bounce. As Ambrose drew near enough to shake his hand, he could see that his skin was crisscrossed with dozens of fine lines. He was older than he appeared. ‘John Greening,’ he said, his handshake as vigorous as his appearance. ‘Deputy Governor. The boss has gone London, talking to the Home Office.’ He widened his eyes and raised his eyebrows. He reminded Ambrose of David Tennant’s rendition of Doctor Who. The very thought made him tired. Greening gestured towards a seat, but Ambrose remained standing.
‘Hardly surprising,’ Ambrose said. ‘In the circumstances.’
‘Nobody is more embarrassed than us about Jacko Vance’s escape.’
Greening looked peeved. Not angry or ashamed, Ambrose thought. Peeved. Like someone had criticised his tie. Which frankly would have deserved all it got. ‘I can assure you there’s no indication of corruption among our staff,’ he said.
Ambrose snorted. ‘That’s almost worse, don’t you think? Corruption might have got you off the hook with less pain than incompetence. Anyway, I’m here now because I need to talk to Jason Collins.’
Greening nodded stiffly. ‘The interview room’s set up for you. Audio and video streams. We’re all very surprised at Jason’s involvement. He’s been doing so well on the Therapeutic Community Wing.’
Ambrose shook his head in disbelief. ‘A prize student, obviously.’
Greening nodded towards the officer who had escorted him in. ‘Officer Ashmall will show you to the interview room.’
Dismissed, Ambrose followed the officer back into the corridor, through another sally port and further into the labyrinth of the prison. ‘Did you know Vance?’ Ambrose asked.
‘I knew who he was. But I never had direct contact with him.’
