even feel sorry for him. He’s a sad man without a life. I’ve got you. I know it’s taken me a long time to work it all out and I’m sorry for what I’ve put you through, but now I see. Let’s just forget Corelli and get on with living.’
She snuffled and blinked the tears away from her eyes. It was the most she had said to Kovaks for many months and she sounded positive, like the Chrissy of old.
Kovaks felt an overwhelming love for her, and his throat constricted as suddenly he knew she was right. Revenge wasn’t the way forwards. It was the way to hell. He lifted her chin so he could look into her eyes. ‘So your future’s with me, eh, kid?’
‘ If that’s what you want.’
‘ Only if it involves marriage and kids and all that crap.’
‘ Is that a proposal of marriage?’
‘ Yup, I suppose it is,’ he said shyly.
‘ Mm,’ she said, pursing her lips thoughtfully. ‘So let me get this clear in my head. You’re asking me to marry you, right?’
‘ Sure am,’ he said more confidently.
‘ In that case, I accept. But… ‘
‘ But what?’
‘ Between now and whenever the wedding day is, we’ve got a hell of a lot of fucking to make up and I’m going to get a piece of it right now.’
Driving exhaustedly from Lancaster to Blackpool in his Metro, which was constantly buffeted by heavy goods vehicles as they thundered past on the motorway, Henry Christie started to do ‘nodding dog’ impersonations. He opened a window and let the cool night breeze waft him into wakefulness. He didn’t particularly want to end up squashed under the back wheels of a lorry.
Unfortunately, the fresh air had the effect of revitalising his senses and by the time he reached the outskirts of Blackpool he was very much awake. It was almost two o’clock in the morning, but he knew that even if he went to bed now he would be unlikely to sleep.
So he went cruising up and down the promenade and around town until somehow, he found himself driving into the back yard of the central police station.
He was about to turn around and head out when he thought, sod it. While I’m here I might as well have a look in, see a few people. He parked and locked his car and walked to the rear entrance of the building.
Though it was the early hours the place was still buzzing. The holiday season was underway and the influx of tourists had had the usual effect of increasing every officer’s workload. Henry wandered through the corridors and into the CID office where a couple of night-duty detectives were sat at their desks, ties removed, scribbling away. They were glad to see him and get the inside story on Hinksman and the escape. Henry, in turn, was happy to impart his knowledge.
Eventually he yawned. Tiredness welled over him. He stretched, said good night, and took his leave.
A couple of minutes later he stepped out of the elevator on the ground floor and walked down the short corridor to the rear exit. As he emerged, the cage door of the custody suite on his right opened and a female tottered out in front of him. She had a high-heeled shoe in one hand, the other being on her foot, and a charge sheet in the other.
‘ You’re all fucking wankers,’ she screamed back through the door. ‘Every single one of you.’
‘ You keep that up, my dear, and you’ll end up back in a cell,’ came the calm voice of the Custody Sergeant. ‘So piss off.’
Muttering obscenities, she turned and tried to put her shoe on in the same motion. She lost her balance and careered into Henry who caught her and placed her upright.
‘ Let go, you cunt,’ she said absently, then: ‘My God! It’s Henry Christie, isn’t it?’
‘ Well hello, Jane. Long time no see. Still plying the same old trade?’
‘ How else would I make me livin’,’ she said mockingly, ‘other than on me back — or in any other position required of me?’
They had walked down the rear yard past all the parked police cars until they reached Henry’s battered Metro.
‘ This heap yours?’ laughed Jane. He nodded. ‘Gone down in the world, ain’t ya?’
‘ Certainly have. Don’t you read the papers?’
‘ No, why? Here — you goin’ my way, Cuntstable? I could do wi’ a lift,’ she stated cheekily.
‘ You still living in that same dump?’
‘ Yep, the same one where you busted me for that speed. God, how long ago were that?’
Henry calculated. It had been when he was a PC. ‘Eight years?’ he estimated.
‘ Fuck me,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Don’t time fly when you’re having fun!’
Henry unlocked the car. ‘I’ll take you as far as I’m going — then you’ll have to walk the rest of the way.’
‘ You’re an absolute gent,’ she said, creasing herself into the passenger seat.
Once within the confines of the small car, Henry began to regret his generosity. She smelled quite awful. The mixture of body odour, cheap perfume, fish, chips and spirits nearly knocked him out. He wound a window down.
‘ What were you locked up for this time?’
‘ Oh, the usual,’ she said unconcerned. ‘Y’know — leopard never changes its spots. But I don’t do drugs any more, thanks to you. I learned me lesson. Evil things.’ She shuddered.
‘ At least I’ve done some good in my life,’ he observed quietly to himself. He actually didn’t know whether to believe her or not.
‘ I’m tryin’ to give up whorin’,’ she said dreamily. ‘Too fuckin’ dangerous this game now. D’you know how many times I’ve been hammered? Six. Gettin’ like America, this place. In fact, the last one who gave me a twattin’ was a Yank. An absolute cunt, he was. Wild eyes. Mad as a hatter. Liked hittin’ better than sex. Mind you, he was better at hittin’. Anyway, I ripped the fucker off good an’ proper…’ She turned to Henry who was only half-listening, his thoughts, though he didn’t know it, on the same American. ‘I’m tellin’ you this off the record, OK? Pinched a rake of cash off him and did a runner. But he beat me up bad and I think he would’ve done worse if I hadn’t legged it. Serves him right, and that smelly Italian landlord of his. Anyway, what I got off him was the start of me nest egg. Buildin’ up nicely now, stashed away safe ‘n’ sound, thank you very much.’
By the time she’d finished wittering, Henry had arrived at the street where his flat was located. He pulled into a parking space about 100 metres away.
‘ You’re a luv,’ Jane said, levering herself out of the seat and slamming the door shut. Her voice seemed to be at megadecibel level; it made Henry squirm. ‘Remember — if you ever want a freebie blow job, just call round. Best gob in town.’ She slithered her tongue in and out a few times, gave a quick wave and turned, clattering away down the pavement on her dangerously high heels.
He watched her walk away, a smile playing on his lips. It was definitely an offer he wouldn’t be following up.
There was a bang, then the sound of voices.
Hinksman awoke with a start. For a moment he thought he was still in the sub-zero darkness of the Iraqi desert, part of the Delta Force Scud-busting squads, sleeping in the shell of a burned-out tank. Then it all came back to him. He cursed himself for being so careless as to doze off.
He was actually lying on the cold metal floor in the rear of a stolen Ford Escort van parked near Henry Christie’s flat. He raised himself an inch at a time so that he could see out of the front windscreen. Fifty metres away from him stood Henry Christie and walking towards him was the prostitute, Jane.
Must be my birthday, he thought, gloating.
He quickly dropped back onto the floor of the van and waited for her to pass. The click-clack of her heels approached, grew louder, drew level with the van and then receded. As her footsteps faded, Hinksman pushed himself back up.
Henry had disappeared to the back entrance of the vet’s surgery.
Hinksman’s mind worked quickly. He was in a quandary. He had been parked there for most of the evening, awaiting Henry’s arrival home. Hinksman had expected him to be alone and it had been his intention to kill him in
