40
The Golem’s sat nav told him he had reached his destination. He turned the engine off, took in his surroundings. Worked out logistics, made plans. Studied approaches, possible obstacles. The house was old, dilapidated. Detached. No neighbours to interfere. There was a caravan at the side, in as bad a state as the house. Two cars parked in front of the house.
He scanned once more, searching for other exits. To the back of the house were fields. To the side, fields also. To the front, the secluded road the Golem had parked on. If they wanted to leave, they would have to come past him.
Good.
He opened the glove box, took out a small telephoto lens. Looked through it. Scanned the front of the house for alarms, wires, anything that told of security. He knew the lengths people went to hide such devices, knew what to look for, what the giveaways were. A new wire on an old building, sometimes painted to blend in, the shade always slightly out. The raised outline of sensors on window frames, door catches. A rusted old alarm box mounted on the wall, seemingly not working, concealing a state-of-the-art security system. He had seen it all.
But this house seemed to be exactly what it said it was. He could detect nothing that wasn’t meant to be there.
Another good sign. The omens were becoming auspicious for this job.
He turned the lens on the caravan, just in time to see a woman leave the house and walk towards it. Beside her was a small girl. She was holding her wrist, half dragging her along. The Golem studied the body language of the two. The girl looked like she was being held against her will and had been crying. The woman looked stressed, like she just wanted everything concluded as quickly as possible.
In another life, the Golem would have been upset about the little girl, shared some empathy for her situation. But not any more. Now it was just a job. He had his instructions: take the man and the woman out, any way he wanted. The other man should be brought to the Sloanes. The little girl … use his discretion.
He scanned the borders once more. If they saw him coming, all they could do was run. That would make his job more difficult, but not impossible. They wouldn’t get far. Not with him blocking the entrance to the main road.
A line of trees fringed the road. He could use them for cover as he made his way down there. Good. He got out of the car, locked it. Started to walk, keeping in the shade of the trees, not allowing his own shadow to be cast in the open.
He looked once more at the house. Despite the sunshine, the place carried an air of depression. As if whoever lived here had reached the end.
How true, he thought.
As he walked, he saw movement in one of the ground-floor windows of the house. He stopped, took out the lens once more. A man was sitting at a table, laptop before him.
He would be the first target.
He put the lens away, walked on. Reached the house, rounded the corner.
Then the dogs started to bark.
41
‘This is Josephina. Josephina, this is … ’ The woman thought for a few seconds. She seemed to have genuinely forgotten Tyrell’s name.
‘Malcolm,’ said Tyrell, feeling strange saying the name out loud. As if it confirmed his new identity.
The little girl just stared at him.
He looked back at her. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying, her nostrils encrusted with snot. She looked tired and terrified, like she had woken from a nightmare to find it was real. The woman still held her by the wrist. She looked like she should have been holding a soft toy in the other hand.
Tyrell, thinking he might be scaring her, sat down to be nearer her height.
He tried to smile at her. From the expression on her face, he must have failed.
‘Hello, Josephina. How are you?’
She just stared at him.
‘Have they hurt you?’
‘Oh for God’s sake … ’ The woman twisted Josephina’s hand, trying to pull her away, back to the house.
‘Stay where you are.’
She stared at Tyrell, surprised at the strength in his voice. At the stern words, Josephina looked like she was about to cry. He softened his voice again. Looked at the girl. Was careful not to touch her. He didn’t want her to get the wrong impression about him. That was important to him.
‘Sorry for shouting,’ he said, his voice soft once more. ‘But have they hurt you?’
Josephina risked a glance up at the woman, who was staring off out the window. She looked back at Tyrell, gave a slight shake of her head. No.
She’s saying no, he thought, not because it’s necessarily true, but because it’s the answer she’s expected to give.
‘Good,’ he said. ‘I’m not going to hurt you either. You’re safe when you’re with me. When I’m here.’
Josephina looked like she didn’t believe him. He wasn’t sure he believed himself.
‘I won’t let them hurt you.’
A sigh from the woman. ‘You finished? Yes? Happy? Good. Because we’ve got to get on.’ She pulled Josephina’s wrist, dragging her to the door.
But Tyrell wasn’t ready to let her go just yet. ‘It won’t be long. They want me to meet your mother. They want her to do something for them. Then you and your mother can go home. Together.’
Another sigh from the woman.
‘Mummy?’ said Josephina. She looked around. ‘Mummy?’
‘We’re going to meet her,’ said Tyrell.
‘Don’t go telling the kid that, shit-for-brains,’ said the woman. ‘We’ll never be able to manage her.’
Tyrell stared at her. Felt himself shake with anger at her words. ‘You look after this child, or I won’t do anything you want.’
The woman stared at him.
‘And don’t swear in front of her. It’s not nice.’
Another sigh. Exasperation this time. ‘Jesus … ’
Then the dogs started barking.
The woman dropped Josephina’s wrist, moved hurriedly to the window. ‘Oh fuck.’
‘What did I just say?’ said Tyrell. ‘No swearing in—’
She turned to him.
‘This is bad,’ she said. ‘This is very fucking bad.’
42
DS Jessie James tried hard not to let her irritation show.
DC Deepak Shah had received a call on his mobile. Fair enough. But instead of just answering it or putting it on handsfree and loudspeaker, he had insisted on pulling the car over.
‘Just take the call,’ she had said, exasperatedly, not for the first time.
He had ignored her, followed his own procedure. She had shaken her head. Bet he demands an invoice every time he makes a cup of tea at home, she thought.
