‘Yes. And I told you to stay outside. For goodness’ sake don’t touch anything.’
She was staring at the mattress. There was a sleeping bag heaped at one end, a pillow at the other, magazines scattered in between. Behind her she heard the door click shut. She turned, assuming Orr had followed her instructions and left, but he was still at her back, staring towards the door. Then she saw the man standing there and her heart gave a violent jolt.
‘Who the blazes are you?’ Orr demanded.
The figure didn’t answer, but Kathy knew who it was. She had seen the face on video and mug shots, and once in the flesh.
Gregory Thomas ‘Upper’ North.
22
K athy spoke slowly and clearly. ‘I’m a police officer. I’ll show you my warrant card.’
She made to reach into her pocket, but North raised a warning hand and she froze.
‘What’s your name?’
She had heard people mention the soft, sibilant voice that reinforced the impression he was under the influence of something even when he wasn’t.
‘DS Kolla.’
‘Division?’
‘Serious Crime. With DCI Brock.’
Without the heavy-rimmed glasses he looked much more like the North of the earlier pictures, slightly dreamy eyes pinched together, cruel mouth. At the mention of Brock’s name he blinked and stared more fixedly at Kathy.
‘Is he here too?’
Kathy hesitated and saw the eyes focus threateningly.
‘No, he’s not here at the moment.’
‘Who else is with you?’
‘No one. Just us. At the moment.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means I’m supposed to report in.’
The mouth formed a thin smile. ‘Sure. Who’s he?’
‘He’s-’
‘Now look!’ Orr interrupted, becoming incensed that someone he took to be a maintenance mechanic, dressed in tracksuit and trainers, should have the presumption to question a police officer in this way. ‘You show a bit of respect, sir!’
‘Robbie…’ Kathy said warningly, remembering all she had been told about North. If she could just keep things calm for ten or fifteen minutes, Sharon would have told Brock, who would surely come. But Orr was waving his hand imperiously at her as he continued to address North in his most pompous classroom manner.
‘I am Professor Robbie Orr, and I am an archaeologist assisting this officer in her investigations. We have no interest in you, and I suggest you leave now before-’
‘Tell him to keep his fucking mouth shut,’ North hissed.
Orr, unlike Kathy, had not noticed the black object dangling from North’s right hand.
‘How dare you speak to us in that manner!’ Orr exploded. ‘If you can’t show a little respect-’
North brought his right hand up until it was pointing at Orr’s chest. Orr blinked in astonishment as he made out the automatic and silencer.
‘Robbie, please keep quiet and leave this to me,’ Kathy said, with some intensity. She tried to glance unobtrusively at his hands, terrified that he would try to pull his antiquated gun from his coat pocket. ‘Don’t move or say a word, and everything will be perfectly all right.’
Orr swallowed, then drew himself up straight. ‘No, Kathy. I refuse to be intimidated by some loutish thug. Does your employer know you have that thing?’ he challenged North. ‘Good God, sir! I’m not frightened of the likes of you. I was with Templer in Malaya!’
There was silence for a moment. North was frowning, as if trying to work out what the hell Orr meant, and Kathy began to say something to try to divert his attention. But before she could get the words out, North said, ‘Yeah? Well I was with Ronnie Kray in Pentonville,’ and the gun jumped twice in his hand, with two vicious thumps.
Orr toppled abruptly backwards, lay felled on the floor, a look of blank amazement on his face. North stared down at him for some seconds, as if contemplating a fine piece of work, then swung the gun to point at Kathy’s head. Instinctively she closed her eyes, waiting for oblivion.
A long silence, then she heard his voice. ‘Take the coat off, very carefully, darling.’
As she eased it off and handed it to him a hissing, gurgling noise came from the figure stretched out on the floor beside her. She glanced down and saw pink foam on Orr’s lips.
North backed over to the bed and emptied the pockets of Kathy’s coat without taking his eyes off her, spreading out the purse, handcuffs, wallet with warrant card. Then he told her to turn and stand over against the wall, hands and feet spread. She felt him come close against her back, the end of the silencer press against her temple, then his free hand feeling in the pockets of her jeans, then round under her sweater to the front of her shirt, unbuttoning it and feeling inside to her skin. The hand slid up to her breast, pausing there a moment, his breathing heavy in her ear, then continued feeling her front, her belly, then round to her back, tugging the shirt out of her jeans so that the fingers could feel over her skin, up to her shoulders, then through her hair.
The hand went round to her front again, to the belt and zip of her jeans, undoing them. She said, ‘No,’ and tried to twist round, but he grabbed her hair and banged her face against the concrete block wall, pressing the metal tube harder against her temple. Then he returned to what he had been doing, unfastening her jeans, pulling them down to her ankles and feeling up and down her legs. He pulled off her shoes, threw them aside, and stepped back.
‘Hands behind your back,’ he said.
She obeyed, and felt the handcuffs on her wrists.
‘Turn,’ he said. ‘Sit.’
She squatted against the wall, jeans still round her ankles. The blow to her head had dazed her; her brow throbbed painfully. She fought to control the trembling that threatened to take her over, and tried to concentrate on things outside herself-on Orr, lying a couple of yards away, wheezing and bubbling faintly.
North was sitting on the bed, examining her wallet again, when she heard something, a faint metallic clang, from outside the room. The metal door of louvres, she thought, and imagined someone making their way slowly along the connecting corridor to the door of this room. Please let it be Brock, not Sharon, she thought, staring transfixed at the door handle as it began to turn.
She glanced at North, still preoccupied with her wallet, then back at the door. It opened a few inches, then a few more, and she recognised Harry’s profile in the gap. She wanted desperately to call out to him, tell him to run, get help, but she guessed that North would start blazing away indiscriminately if she startled him, so she bit her lip and watched Harry in silence as he slowly took in the scene in the room, his eyes widening at the sight of Orr stretched out on the floor, Kathy against the wall. Run! she silently urged him, as he stood staring at her, then at North, seemingly unable to decide what to do.
Finally she couldn’t stand it any more. Terrified that he’d say something, she gave a little sharp warning shake of her head. But the movement registered with North, who looked up suddenly, first at Kathy, then at the doorway, and took in Harry.
‘Run, Harry!’ she finally blurted. ‘Get help!’
But instead of running, he began to walk slowly into the room.
Incredulously, Kathy watched him crouch beside Orr. Then she was aware of North picking up his gun at last. He waved it in the general direction of Harry and said simply, ‘He’s dead.’
Harry looked up, face grim, then got to his feet and stared at Kathy. He took in the livid mark on her
