'You don't have to explain, Den. I was just.. . shocked. Surprised. That's all.'
Donovan nodded.
'A week or two in hospital. He'll be fine.' That was a lie, Donovan knew. Parker would be in bed for a month, and wouldn't be walking for at least six. So far as Donovan was concerned, it served Parker right, but he didn't think Kris would want to hear that.
'Do you want to run me home?' he asked.
'I don't know,' she said in mock seriousness.
'What'll you do to me if I say no? Punch me in the face?'
Donovan laughed and licked the blood off his knuckles.
Kris pulled the MGB over at the kerb but kept the engine running. She looked out of the window at Donovan's house.
'Nice,' she said.
'Yeah. Do you wanna buy it?' said Donovan, deadpan.
'Oh yeah, like I can afford a place like that. How much is it worth?'
'I dunno. Prices have gone crazy over the last year or so. Three mill, maybe.'
Kris whistled softly.
'You live there alone?'
Donovan shook his head.
'No. Not really.'
'That sounds a bit vague, Den.'
'Yeah, well, I'm sort of in a transition stage at the moment. My wife has left me.'
Kris grinned.
'The number of times I've heard that. My wife doesn't understand me. We've grown apart. She hasn't touched me since the children were born. Blah, blah, blah.'
'My son found her in bed with another man.'
Kris's mouth fell open.
'You're serious?'
'Deadly.'
She nodded at the house.
'So is your boy in there now?'
Donovan shook his head.
'Nah, he's staying with my sister until I get things sorted.'
'Sorted?'
'I don't know if I'm cut out to be a single parent,' said Donovan.
'You're his dad. That's all that matters.'
'I guess,' said Donovan.
Kris looked at her watch.
'I'd better be getting back to Louise. Check that she's okay. I said I'd stay the night with her.'
'She's a nice kid.'
'You interested? I could put in a good word for you. She's young, free and single.'
Donovan grinned.
'I think my life's probably complicated enough as it is, but thanks for the offer.'
'Not your type?'
'Where are we, the playground?'
'Word is you like blondes.'
'My wife was a blonde. But I've never let hair colour get in the way of a good shag. She's a stunner, okay. Happy now?'
'I'll tell her,' said Kris.
'Seriously, Den. Thanks for tonight.'
'Happy to have been a help,' said Donovan.
'It's been years since I was in a fistfight. Brought back memories.'
'Not sure it was a fight, more of a beating up,' said Kris. Donovan climbed out of the sports car laughing and waved as she drove away.
'You got the registration number?' said Shuker as he clicked away with the SLR camera.
'No sweat,' saidjenner.
'Bit of all right, wasn't she?'Jenner was sitting at a dressing table and writing in the log. A pair of high- powered binoculars lay on the table next to a Thermos flask and two plastic cups.
'Yeah, he's got a thing about blondes.' Shuker continued to take photographs until Donovan closed the front door.
'Wonder why she didn't go inside?'
Shuker and Jenner were Customs officers, and both were experienced surveillance operatives. Shuker was the elder of the two at thirty-six, but Jenner had been with HM Customs longer as he'd joined straight from school. They were in a flat diagonally opposite Donovan's that was owned by an Inland Revenue tax inspector. The bedroom was normally occupied by the inspector's ten-year-old daughter, but she'd been moved in with her sister and the whole family had been sworn to secrecy. The nature of the target hadn't been divulged to the family, just that it was a neighbour who was under surveillance. Shuker and Jenner were in the room for twelve hours a day, from midnight until noon, with two other Customs officers taking the alternate shift. Both men had plans for all the overtime they'd earn keeping an eye on Den Donovan. Shuker was saving for a Honda Gold Wing motorbike and Jenner had promised his wife and kids two weeks in Florida.
Donovan opened the fridge and sighed when he saw that there was no soda water. He opened the freezer section and cursed. No ice cubes, either. He sipped his Jack Daniels neat and went through to the sitting room. He sat down on a sofa and swung his legs up on to the coffee table. It was littered with glossy magazines. Vogue. Elle. Marie Claire. They were all Vicky's. He kicked them away. He should have put them into the black rubbish bags with the rest of her stuff. He wanted nothing of hers in the house.
He rested his head on the back of the sofa and stared up at the ceiling.
'What the hell am I going to do?' he asked out loud. Julia Lau had been unequivocal. There was no way he could take Robbie out of the country while Vicky's injunction was in force. And if he left the country without Robbie, he'd have a tough time convincing a judge that he was a fit parent. He had no choice. He had to stay. He had to make a home for Robbie, at least until he could get the injunction overturned. Or find out where Vicky was. He sipped his drink. The remote control was by his side, so he switched on the TV and flicked through the channels until he found Sky Sport. Liverpool against Chelsea. Donovan didn't support either team. He didn't really support any team. At school he'd been a United fan, but then the whole world had started to support the Reds and Donovan had lost interest. He'd hated running with the crowd, even as a kid. He half-watched the game. What was it they were paid these days? Millions. Millions of pounds for playing a game. The world had gone crazy.
Maybe he'd take Robbie to a soccer match. Might be fun. In fact, taking care of Robbie wouldn't be too difficult, he decided. All he had to do was to take him to and from school, feed him and clothe him. How tough could that be? Besides, it'd be good to spend some time with him. Quality time. Father and son time.
The cops and Customs would have him under the microscope, but so long as he didn't break the law there was nothing they could do. He took another sip of his Jack Daniels, then remembered the Spaniard and cursed. Rojas would want paying for the Marty Clare job, and soon. Plus there was the work he was doing tracking down Vicky.
Donovan stood up, muted the television, and went through to his study. He took a notepad and pen from his desk drawer and started jotting down how much money he had. There was the cash he'd brought with him from Anguilla. The money he'd collected from the safe deposit box in Dublin. And the cash left over from the sale of the paintings. In all, about four hundred grand. Donovan nodded. Enough to pay Rojas and to keep himself going for a few months. Paying his legal fees might be a problem, but Lawrence Patterson would probably give him some breathing space. He put down his pen. So long as nothing untoward happened, everything was going to work out just fine. And as soon as Rojas tracked down Vicky and Sharkey, he'd get his sixty million dollars back. Donovan smiled. He was looking forward to seeing Sharkey again.
