Then Whisper’s head was yanked violently back.
He gave a yelp of surprise.
Kovaks’ swimming vision took in the huge form of Sue hovering above him.
A big fist slammed down like a sledgehammer into Whisper’s upturned face. His nose squelched and burst like a tomato. The fist smashed down again. Whisper released his grip on Kovaks’ throat. His hands went up to protect his face.
The door flew open and two more warders ran into the room, batons drawn.
Now, four against one, even Whisper was defeated. He was bundled off his victim in a shower of blows, punches and kicks.
‘ You pack a good punch,’ Kovaks croaked with admiration to Sue.
‘ I had to do something,’ she said modestly, ‘otherwise he’d’ve killed you. Those guards were useless.’
‘ I owe you one.’
‘ My pleasure,’ she said meekly. She looked at the swollen knuckles of her right hand. ‘I broke his nose, y’know.’
‘ You did good,’ Kovaks agreed.
They were sitting in a cubicle at the Institute’s hospital, a curtain drawn across for the sake of privacy. Kovaks had been treated and his throat had a bandage wrapped around it. No permanent damage had been done, according to the doctor. His voice was almost gone but in a few days, he was assured, everything would be fine again. Meanwhile he’d been advised not to speak too much and eat only soup and scrambled eggs.
The doctor drew the curtain back.
‘ Whisper wants to talk to you,’ he announced.
Kovaks and Sue exchanged a surprised glance.
‘ Where is he?’ she asked.
‘ We’ve just admitted him. He’s down on the ward, first bed on the left.’ The doctor pointed.
‘ How is he?’ Sue enquired.
‘ He’ll live.’
Curtains had also been drawn around Whisper’s bed, denying the other occupants of the ward a view of the prison hard man beaten to a pulp. Kovaks and Sue ducked in and stood next to the bed.
Whisper looked bad. A real mess.
Other than the facial injuries inflicted by Sue, the warders had really gone to town on him. Obviously a lot of grudges had been exorcised. His left arm, wrist and all five fingers were broken; he had several broken ribs, as well as a smashed collarbone and a shattered kneecap. His face and upper body were a mass of welts, cuts, bruises and swellings. Several of the deeper cuts had been stitched and blood dribbled out of them onto the pillow and sheets.
His eyes were closed. His left had swollen up like a boxer’s, round and big as a tennis ball, the colour purple. The other was merely bruised. He opened this one and peered sideways at his visitors.
‘ You wanted to see us,’ Kovaks managed to whisper hoarsely.
‘ Can’t hear you,’ the big man said.
Kovaks leaned forwards, his mouth close to Whisper’s ear.
‘ You wanted to see us.’
‘ Yeah… why you whisperin’?’
‘ Some bastard did my throat in.’
Whisper chuckled and winced with the pain which arced through his chest like an electric shock. When he’d reached equilibrium he said, ‘Is it true — what you said?’
‘ It’s true.’
‘ Fuck!’
‘ Help us,’ Kovaks’ voice grated painfully, ‘and we can help her, Whisper. We’ll get her in a re-hab scheme, set her up somewhere else and give her some cash to start a new life with Cassie — away from Corelli. ‘
‘ Nobody gets away from Corelli,’ said Whisper, dismissing the idea. Then, ‘But she’s a good girl. She deserves a break. Will you do what you say?’
‘ I will,’ said Kovaks, nodding.
‘ If you don’t, I’ll kill you when I get out of here… after I’ve killed Corelli. ‘
‘ I said I will,’ said Kovaks, believing him.
‘ So what d’you want?’
Kovaks held out his hand. Sue gave him the photos.
‘ Who is this guy?’ Kovaks held the prints so Whisper could see them without having to move. ‘We need to know — urgently.’
Whisper looked hard at the photographs with his good eye. His breathing was painful and laboured. The analgesics were only just beginning to take effect.
‘ Why?’ he asked.
‘ We think he killed a lotta people — including a busload of kids — on Corelli’s orders.’
Whisper winced. ‘I don’t know him.’
Kovaks stood up, disappointed. ‘Shit.’
‘ I mean I don’t know him personally, but I know he’s Corelli’s top hired killer. Jimmy Hinksman, that’s his name. Corelli keeps him pretty much tucked away. Talk is he used to be Special Forces but got kicked out for some girl trouble. That’s all I know about him. Real mystery figure. Ahhh…’ He gasped as he adjusted his position slightly. He waited a moment for the pain to settle.
Someone walked down the ward and stopped near to Whisper’s bed. Kovaks heard the sounds of the doctor’s voice murmuring in muted conversation. A female voice replied — a nurse. Footsteps walked past the bed. Kovaks returned his attention to Whisper.
‘ I only seen him once and I got the evil eye when I asked who he was. Real arrogant bastard. Did he do Danny Carver?’ asked Whisper.
‘ How the hell did you know that?’ said Kovaks, taken aback.
‘ News travels fast — even in here.’
‘ Where do we find him?’
Whisper shook his head slightly. ‘In America he could be anywhere. But if he’s in England, I know somewhere you could try.’
Chapter Eight
Donaldson perched on the Allocator’s desk in the incident room, a phone cradled between his left ear and shoulder. ‘Hey, Joe,’ he was saying, ‘you done good, pal. I’m real sorry about your injuries.’
The fax machine in the corner of the room beeped into life. ‘It’s coming through now,’ Donaldson said into the phone.
At the machine, Karen Wilde and Ken McClure stood bleary-eyed.
It was 7.30 a.m. They had worked through the night interviewing the man arrested at Lytham the evening before. They had pushed to the limits allowed by the Police and Criminal Evidence Act, initially denying him access to legal representation in the hope of making a quick breakthrough. They had also broken the rules during the course of the interview — by their oppressive and intimidatory conduct, but in the end they had nothing on him. His driving licence had either been lost or stolen but he didn’t know where or when. They dusted him down at 5 a.m., promised to pay for any damage caused at his home and sent him on his way without an apology. They hadn’t been in the mood to apologise to anyone.
As they packed up, the phone rang.
Kovaks.
The first sheet came off the fax. It read, With the compliments of Joe Kovaks, FBI, Miami, Florida, US. There was a little photo of him beneath the wording. Karen groaned as she saw it. Under her breath she muttered,
