She was terrified.
Forty-seven
‘Don’t move,’ said Dougie MacLeod. ‘Or you’re dead.’
I was so shocked to hear my old mentor and the boss of one of London’s murder investigation teams threaten me with death that I disobeyed his instructions and turned round.
Dougie stood in the doorway pointing a black revolver at me. He was dressed casually in jeans and a sweatshirt, and his face was etched with a tension I’d never seen on him before.
Seeing that it was me, he lowered the weapon. ‘What the hell are you doing here, Sean?’ he demanded.
‘You weren’t answering your door.’
‘So you thought you’d just walk in?’
‘I need help, Dougie. Badly.’
He sighed. ‘This is a bad time, Sean. We’ve got an emergency on.’
‘What kind of emergency?’ I asked, feeling a terrible lurch of disappointment, followed by resentment. I’d expected a lot more from him.
‘The kind you’ve been watching on the news. The Night Creeper abduction. He was our suspect, remember?’ He replaced the safety on the revolver and put it in the back of his jeans, then pulled a half-crushed pack of Marlboro Reds from his pocket and lit one. ‘I’m sorry I can’t be more help,’ he continued. ‘Perhaps we can talk later.’ He walked past me, picked up the remote control from the arm of the sofa and switched off the TV. ‘Right now, I’ve got to go.’
I noticed he was sweating, and that his movements were stiff and hurried. ‘Do you always carry a gun for policework these days?’ I asked him. ‘I didn’t think DCIs needed them.’
‘I wasn’t going to take it with me. I only had it out because I thought you were an intruder.’
‘I didn’t even know you owned a gun.’
‘And I’d rather you didn’t tell anyone. It’s an illegal one. There’ve been a lot of break-ins here,’ he added, as if this explained why he was walking around with an illegal weapon I knew he’d never fire. ‘I’m sorry I pointed it at you, but if you will come trespassing round here. .’
I noticed he wasn’t looking me in the eye as he spoke, which again wasn’t like him. Something was definitely wrong.
‘I wasn’t trespassing. I came here looking for help, and I still need it. And it’s do with your case as well,’ I added, not sure how else I was going to get his attention.
‘And I’ll help later if I can, but right now, I’ve got to go. We’ve got a press conference.’ He started towards the door.
‘The press conference is at ten — they announced it just now. That’s three hours away.’
‘There are things to do before then.’
But I wasn’t moving. ‘It’s strange,’ I said. ‘I sneak into your house, battered and bruised, telling you I’ve got important information on what’s got to be the biggest case of your career, and you don’t seem to give a shit. You know what that says to me?’
He stopped in front of me, the muscles in his jaw working, his eyes wide and alert with nervous tension. ‘We’ll talk soon, OK?’
My punch caught him, and me, completely unawares. My strength and energy reserves might have been running on empty, but Dougie MacLeod went sprawling to the floor. Within a second I was on him, rolling him over on to his front and sticking my knee into his back before he could resist. I whipped the gun out from his jeans, then yanked him round and shoved the barrel against his forehead, cocking the weapon.
‘Start talking, now. Tell me everything you know about this whole case because I know you know something. Do it or I’ll kill you here and now. I swear it.’
I wouldn’t have done. I couldn’t have done. Even doing this to the man who’d once been a good friend and had saved my career when it could easily have gone down the pan, even that hurt me. I hated it. But I had to find out what was bothering him and why he was wandering round his house with an illegal firearm, and the only way I was going to learn that was if he took my threats seriously. I glared down at him, pushing the gun even harder into his head.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he whispered, staring up at me in fear, his nose bleeding where I’d hit him, his face turning an unhealthy puce colour.
‘I’ve almost died tonight, Dougie. I was involved in the Night Creeper abduction.’
‘What?’
‘It was an undercover op that went wrong. Kent’s dead. So’s everyone else who took him, and someone set us all up. And the thing is, I think it was you. Now you’ve got one chance. You talk or you die. Understand?’
And that’s when I saw the tears running down his face.
‘They’ve got Billy,’ he said desperately. ‘The bastards have got my boy.’
Forty-eight
For a long moment, no one spoke, then Tina heard Gore let out a tiny, barely audible groan from his position behind her and Grier.
‘I’m just seeing these two out, Jane,’ he said, recovering quickly. ‘Why don’t you go back to bed? I’ll be up in a moment.’
Tina addressed Jane Gore directly. ‘You knew about this, didn’t you.’ It was a statement, not a question, and it stayed hanging in the air for a good second after she’d said it.
Mrs Gore’s face crumpled. ‘Did you kill her, Anthony?’ she whispered.
‘Of course I didn’t,’ he answered dismissively, as if such a question was frankly ridiculous.
He pushed between Tina and Grier and went over to comfort her, but she flinched away from his touch. ‘Don’t try to fob me off. Tell me the truth. Is what she says true?’
He leaned down towards her, marshalling all the persuasive skills that had served him so well in the courtroom in days gone by. ‘No it’s not. I swear it, darling. This is a big, big mistake.’ He turned to Tina and Grier. ‘What are you still doing here? This is a private matter. Get out.’
Grier looked at Tina, but she didn’t move. She could sense Mrs Gore wavering.
‘Your husband’s lying, Mrs Gore,’ she said, ‘and we can prove it.’
‘No, you can’t,’ shouted Gore. ‘You can’t prove anything.’
Mrs Gore grabbed his arm. ‘Is that what they were blackmailing you about, Anthony? Murder?’
‘Who’s been blackmailing you, Mr Gore?’
‘No one. Get out.’
‘If you cooperate now, there’ll be a way out. If you don’t, we’ll find out everything.’
‘How could you do this, Anthony? Did you kill her? Did you kill that little hussy? I thought it was all over!’
‘Shut up! Now!’ Without warning, Gore slapped his wife hard across the face, knocking her backwards.
Tina and Grier both took a step towards them.
Jane Gore put a hand to her cheek and backed slowly away from him, the fear in her expression there for all to see.
‘Oh God, I’m sorry,’ said Gore. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you.’
‘Get away from me. Don’t touch me.’
‘Please, Jane. .’ He turned to Tina. ‘See what you made me do, you heartless bitch.’
‘Is this what you did to Roisin, Minister? Hit her just that little bit too hard? That’s what happened, isn’t it? You lashed out. Was she threatening to tell your wife? Is that why you strangled her?’
