Marc's head came up. He was too proud to beg me to stop, but there was the fear in his eyes now, and maybe even a trace of hurt surprise, too. I closed my heart to the fact I held his future, his freedom in my hands, and pressed on.
“Angelo, you see,” I told MacMillan, “has some nastily sadistic tendencies. When he's not playing SS man here, he likes to watch videos designed for a very specialised taste – that's when he's not beating up his girlfriend, of course.”
I glanced at the Superintendent, not entirely sure what I'd see, but both he and Marc were sitting impassive. MacMillan gestured silently for me to go on.
“Unfortunately, they don't come cheap, and Angelo hired out rather a lot of these videos, from a guy called Terry Rothwell.” The policeman tried not to show he had just snapped to attention, but I caught the betraying twitch of his hands.
“He had so many, built up such a tab, that when Terry eventually insisted he settle up, Angelo couldn't do it. So, he faked a robbery here at the club. He nicked a few expensive items of office equipment, like a lap-top computer, making sure others took the blame, and paid his debt that way.”
That was one thing Marc hadn't figured out. Not until I'd opened up to him that night in the flat. He'd agreed to set the trap for Angelo not because he wanted to see if he'd killed Terry. Oh no, he already knew all about that. He wanted to know if Angelo had committed the far more serious crime of lying to him.
“The only trouble was,” I continued, “that I think the lap-top had been used to record information about the drugs being dealt here, and although Angelo wiped the data files, he thought he'd get cute and not tell Terry about the password. If he hadn't done that, Terry would probably never have looked any further into it. As it was, he just made it more suspicious. And Angelo wasn't to know that Terry would have a friend who had another friend who was good enough with computers to retrieve the files.”
“You.” MacMillan murmured the single word as a statement, not a question.
I nodded briefly, wanting to keep Sam out of this. “I didn't know where he'd got the damned thing, but when I told him what data we'd managed to restore, Terry obviously decided to have a go at a little light blackmail.”
It was MacMillan who nodded now, understanding. “And when he tried that, Angelo killed him,” he said, almost to himself. He moved quickly to his feet. “I'll make sure we've got Zachary.” He frowned as he noted my more obvious injuries. “Will you be all right on your own here with him for a moment?”
“I expect so,” I said. Even in this state I was fairly sure I could handle a handcuffed man on my own. It seemed so wrong to see Marc restrained in that way, as though all his self-confidence and polish was slipping away.
MacMillan nodded, as though he hadn't really doubted that I could, and hurried from the room.
As the door closed behind him I glanced at Marc, taking up the thread again for his benefit, and feeling I could speak more freely now. “The problem was, when Angelo went round to see him, Terry didn't have the lap-top to give back to him, not with any persuasion. It could be that Angelo had meant to kill him anyway – he's certainly the type – or maybe he just lost his rag. Whichever way it happened, afterwards Angelo panicked, and he came back to tell his mate, Len what he'd done.”
I remembered Dave's report of the conversation he'd overheard. Len telling Angelo that he'd gone too far this time, that he didn't think he'd be able to cover up for him. At the time I'd thought Angelo was dealing drugs off his own bat. Now I knew different.
“Of course, the first thing Len did was turn to you.” I flickered my gaze towards his face, but was not rewarded with a response. “Len thinks you walk on water,” I said. “He would follow you to hell and back and not turn a hair.” I paused, then couldn't resist adding icily, “It's a good job, because after this, he's probably going to have to.”
Marc's face twisted then. He must have known what was coming, but had still hoped against hope that I would veer off course at the last minute. I watched the realisation form for a few moments before I dug the knife in.
“He knew you would take care of the problem, and that problem was me. I suppose I should have known,” I murmured. “The first time I met you, you gave me fair enough warning. If you work for me, you don't break the rules, you said. Not for anyone.” I shrugged. “I didn't realise you meant
He spread his hands to the limit of the handcuffs' chain, then let them drop back into his lap. “I couldn't just let it go, Charlie, you must realise that.” I was surprised to hear a note of pleading in his voice. “I never dreamed you'd get so involved, would take it so far. I told them to go easy on you. They didn't listen.”
I gave a short, harsh laugh. “And I'm supposed to be thankful for that? Oh you told them to go easy on me all right, but not
He tried to run an exasperated hand quickly through his hair, nearly smacked himself in the face when the other one came along with it. Even his coordination seemed to have gone.
“That was a mistake. Angelo went too far.” He stopped, took a breath, started again. “All I wanted to do was scare you off, stop you from following this course. I should have known that you wouldn't scare so easily.” He tried a half-hearted smile, rose and made as if to move towards me. “Charlie, it doesn't need to end like this.”
“That's plenty far enough, Marc.” There must have been something in my face. He searched it for a long moment, then advanced no further.
“The really ironic thing is,” I went on, “that Terry didn't have anything to threaten you with anyway. All we were able to get off that damned computer were a few file names and one list of dates. There was nothing that couldn't have been explained away or swept under the carpet.” Marc closed his eyes as if asking his God to help him.
“I don't know how Terry got to know about what was going on here. Maybe Angelo offered him something in the beginning as a trade. Terry wouldn't have accepted it. He was very anti-drugs.
“Whatever,” I continued, “Terry had enough to drop a few of the right words onto Angelo. Did he ask for money? A charitable donation, maybe? That would have been like him. Striking a blow for freedom, he would have seen it as. A bit of private enterprise.”
“Charlie—” Marc protested.
“You took great pains to retrieve that computer, didn't you?” I ploughed on as though he hadn't spoken. “That was why you sent your thugs after me. They obviously had orders not only to get the lap-top back, but to persuade me not to go to the police as well.”
I put a trace of emphasis on the word “persuade”, just as I could imagine Marc had done when he'd originally briefed his boys. I understood the reason for the delay coming to get me now. He'd had to bring them in from one of his other clubs specially. And he couldn't take them away from work on a Saturday night, now could he?
Marc didn't deny it. A part of me still hoped that he would, that I was wrong. He sat looking defeated, shoulders slumped, and didn't even meet my eyes. I hardened my heart along with my resolve, and kept going.
“What I really can't forgive, Marc,” I said acidly, mildly gratified by the fact that my voice didn't waver, “is that after you'd let your boys work me over, you took me back to your hotel and gave me a working over of your own. Was that all part of the careful plan? The softly softly approach just in case they hadn't been able to beat enough out of me?”
His head came up at that, eyes haunted, face bloodless. “Charlie, I swear I never meant for that to happen either.” His voice was a whisper, truth cutting through like daylight. Not that it mattered, I suppose, whether he was lying or not.
Not any more.
“Are you so cold,” he demanded, “that what we had together – what we shared together – really meant nothing to you?”
I'd shied away from pursuing that subject too closely. The wound was still too raw. Instead I met his gaze levelly. “Not when you saw it as nothing more than a means of control over me,” I said, “no it didn't.”
The silence was still hanging between us when the door opened and MacMillan reappeared. His sharp eyes flicked between us, as though expecting to see fresh blood on one or the other.
“Well,” he said, “you didn't hit him again, then.” I couldn't tell from his tone whether he was relieved or
