She didn’t say anything, just stood shaking her head and sobbing.
‘Is it Nelson? Has something happened?’
Angie wrapped her arms round her stomach and slid down the door until she was crouched on the floor. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
Then Hendrickson heard a sharp laugh and whirled around. Two men were standing in a doorway. One was short with tight, black curls and the other was shaven-headed and had the build of a wrestler. He wore a sovereign ring on his wedding finger and a thick gold chain on his right wrist. As he stared at Hendrickson he cracked his knuckles, like pistol shots. It was the smaller man who had laughed. He was carrying a large kitchen knife and swished the blade from side to side. Hendrickson swallowed and took a step back. ‘Who are you?’ he stuttered. ‘What do you want?’
‘We want a chat,’ said the man with the knife.
‘What about?’ said Hendrickson. He took another step back. ‘This isn’t m-m-my house,’ he stammered. He pointed at Angie, who was still sobbing, her forehead resting on her arms. ‘I’m just visiting. I’m not her husband.’
‘No,’ said a voice to his left. A third man walked out of the sitting room. He was tall with receding hair and, like the other big man, he was holding a knife. Its blade glinted under the hall light. The man smiled – a cruel smile, the smile of a man who enjoyed inflicting pain. ‘I am,’ he said.
It took less than five minutes for Larry Hendrickson to tell Kerr everything he knew about Tony Nelson. There had been no need to torture him, or even to hurt him, but Kerr had done it anyway and taken pleasure in it. Wates and Anderson had taken him down to the wine cellar and tied him to a chair while Kerr had taken Angie up to the bedroom. Angie had cried and kept repeating that she was sorry, but it didn’t mean much when she’d hired a hitman to murder him.
Kerr had taken her to the bedroom, made her undress and raped her on their king-sized bed. She didn’t protest and she didn’t struggle. He swore at her when he came and slapped her face. Then he used two Kenzo ties to bind her wrists and ankles and pulled the phone out of its socket. She lay on her side, sobbing into a pillow.
He showered, changed into a fresh polo shirt and khaki chinos, then went downstairs. He walked through the kitchen to the garage and took a pair of bolt-cutters before he headed down to the basement. Kerr could smell the acrid tang of urine as he walked down the wooden steps. Hendrickson had wet himself.
‘This is a mistake,’ quavered Hendrickson.
‘Couldn’t agree with you more, Larry,’ said Kerr, swinging the bolt-cutters.
‘I don’t know what she told you, but it was all her idea,’ said Hendrickson.
‘My wife, you mean?’ asked Kerr.
‘Please—’ said Hendrickson.
‘Please what? Please don’t hurt me? Please don’t kill me?’
‘Look, I’ve got money—’
‘Not as much as I have, Larry.’ Kerr slapped the bolt-cutters in the palm of his hand. ‘This Nelson, how did you get in touch with him?’
‘I phoned him.’
‘I meant the first time. I’m assuming you didn’t get his name from the
‘A friend of a friend. He knows people, he said he’d put the word out, and Nelson got in touch.’
‘What’s he look like?’
‘Dark brown hair, just under six foot. He looks . . .’ Hendrickson struggled to find the right word. ‘ . . . normal,’ he said eventually. ‘He looks like everyone else.’
‘What does he drive?’
‘A Volvo. A grey Volvo.’
‘I don’t suppose you know the number?’
Hendrickson shook his head.
‘Because it’ll save you a toe if you do.’
Hendrickson started to plead but Kerr knelt down next to the chair. He rolled up Hendrickson’s left trouser leg. ‘Nice material,’ said Kerr. ‘Armani?’
‘I don’t know, please, God, I don’t know!’ screamed Hendrickson.
‘Looks like Armani,’ said Kerr.
‘The number of his car. I don’t know the number of his car. Why would I know the number of his car, for God’s sake?’
Kerr slipped the bolt-cutting blades on either side of the little toe on Hendrickson’s left foot. Hendrickson struggled but his ankle and knee were tied to the chair. He rocked the chair backwards and forwards but Wates grabbed his shoulders to hold him still.
Kerr pressed hard on the handles of the bolt-cutters and Hendrickson screamed as the blades bit into his flesh. Kerr felt resistance as the blades hit the bone but he forced the handles together and the toe fell to the floor. Hendrickson’s screams went up an octave. Kerr straightened up, grinning. Anderson had turned away but Wates was grinning as widely as Kerr, relishing Hendrickson’s shrieks. The wine cellar was soundproofed and the nearest neighbour was a hundred yards away so there was no possibility that anyone would hear what was going on.
Gradually Hendrickson’s screams subsided. He was breathing heavily, and his eyes glazed over. Kerr realised he was going into shock. ‘Get him some water,’ he said to Anderson, who hurried up the stairs.
‘How did you meet my wife?’ he asked.
Hendrickson coughed. ‘The gym,’ he said.
‘What – you just walked up and asked if she wanted her husband dead?’
Hendrickson shook his head. Kerr grabbed his hair. ‘Don’t you pass out on me, you shit,’ he said.
When Anderson returned with the water he put the glass to Hendrickson’s lips and he gulped the water. ‘Thank you,’ he gasped.
‘When was the last time you saw Nelson?’
‘Last Friday.’
‘And he killed your business partner?’
Hendrickson nodded.
‘How much did you pay him?’
‘Thirty grand.’
‘How did he do it?’
‘Shot him and buried him in the New Forest.’
‘Nice,’ said Kerr. ‘And you thought he could do the same to me, did you?’
‘That’s not what—’
‘You calling me a liar, Larry?’
‘It’s not that – I just gave her his phone number.’
‘What did I ever do to you? Did I ever cause you any grief? Did I run over your cat? Because if I did, I’d rather you told me now.’
‘I just gave her his number, that’s all.’
Kerr opened his eyes wide. ‘Oh, that’s all right, then. All you did was give my wife the phone number of a contract killer. It’s all been a misunderstanding, then.’
‘Look, please, there’s something you need to know—’
‘I think I have the gist,’ said Kerr, slapping the bolt-cutters against his palm.
‘There’s something else,’ said Hendrickson. ‘If I tell you, will you let me go?’
‘I don’t think there’s anything else I need to know. My darling wife has told me everything.’
‘No, this Nelson, he’s up to something. That’s why I called Angie. He’s trying to stitch me up.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘If I tell you, will you let me go?’
‘If you don’t, I’ll start work on your hands,’ said Kerr.
‘I don’t want to die,’ said Hendrickson.
‘No one wants to die,’ said Kerr. ‘So talk.’
Hendrickson looked at Anderson.
