did you think you were going to achieve?’ she said. ‘With all this.’
‘You know what I was going to achieve,’ said Amy. ‘Get what was mine. What’s owed to me. It’s what I deserve.’
‘So why haven’t you tried to do it before? Why now?’
She lowered the gun slightly, concentrating on her words, focusing her anger. ‘I did try. A few times. But it costs money, doesn’t it? And when you’re a non-person, when you don’t exist, you don’t have any, do you? Not that you would know.’
Dee said nothing. Her previous life flashed through her mind. She ignored it.
‘Who would believe a madwoman? No one. That’s who.’
‘But a madwoman with a convicted murderer — that’d work … ’ Dee almost smiled at her own words, knowing they would just enrage Amy further.
‘Shut up! Shut up! You know that’s not true … And we could have proved it. Graham and me. That was the plan. That’s why he fell out with Michael. Over me. Graham hated what Michael had done to me. Hated it. Oh, he was all for it at first. He was with us. One of us. He helped put the blame on Stuart, get him sent down for the killings. But he hated what Michael had done to me. And then when you came along … ’
‘He left.’
Amy smiled. ‘Yes. He hated you as much as he hated Michael. And when Michael wouldn’t give him or me any money, we came up with the plan.’
‘This plan.’
‘Yes. Graham had kept a copy of the will, after all these years. The one my father made just before he died. The one that included Stuart. All we had to do was wait until Stuart was released, have him declared sane, show that he didn’t do the killings and him and me could be cut in. Michael wouldn’t let that happen, of course. Came after us.’
‘And did a pretty good job.’
Amy didn’t reply with words. She just growled.
‘It was foolproof. Get that psychologist back, the one who said the right things about him at the time. Because she’s made quite a name for herself. She’s high profile now.’ Amy sighed. ‘Foolproof. That’s what Graham said.’ Her eyes became wet.
‘How wrong he was.’ Dee could sense Amy weakening. When the Golem appeared, that would be the end of it. Then she could join Michael and say hello to a new life. But she couldn’t resist one last gloat. ‘You failed,’ she said. ‘Failed.’
‘Shut up! Shut up!’
‘Failed.’
Amy brought the gun up once more, levelled it. Dee stopped talking, thought she had actually gone too far this time. But then she felt rather than saw movement at her side. A shadow flowed, became corporeal. The Golem appeared.
Dee smiled. Her confidence returned. ‘As I said. You failed.’
Amy stared at the two of them.
And laughed.
112
Mickey ran. The other man ran faster. He seemed to know his way around better too, weaving in and out of the container stacks and negotiating on-deck obstacles that Mickey had difficulty seeing until he was on them. Coils of rope. Storage chests. The man jumped and dodged, avoiding them. Or deliberately taking a route that would slow Mickey down.
Mickey began to see where his quarry was headed. The ramp. The pier. Then off and away.
He couldn’t let that happen, had to stop him from reaching it.
The figure broke cover, came running out from behind another container stack, heading away from Mickey. Mickey gave chase, jumping over a coil of rope in his path.
The fleeing man looked backwards, checked that Mickey was still with him. Mickey ran harder, gaining on him. The man turned, ducked behind another container stack. Mickey, still running, followed him.
And felt an immediate pain in his chest.
He dropped to the deck, sore and winded. When he opened his eyes, the well-dressed man was standing over him, a length of metal in his hand. Mickey’s hand went to his chest. He gave a practice breath. It hurt. A lot.
The man gave a quick look round, then brought the metal bar down once more.
Mickey managed to roll out of the way, letting his shoulder take most of the blow that had been intended for his torso. He felt something crack as he did so. Pain shot down the length of his arm. He tried to pick his arm up, move it. Couldn’t.
He was out of it.
He could only watch as the man dropped the bar, looked round quickly to see if any other police officers were in sight. There weren’t. He looked down at Mickey again. Smiled.
‘Terribly sorry, old chum. Must dash.’
Mickey tried to rise, grab him, stop him from leaving. Felt a web of pain anchor him to the deck, pull him back down again.
He gasped, groaned. Tried to get his two-way radio out of his pocket, tell May what was happening. But it hurt too much. Couldn’t even manage that. His arm dropped down again. He sighed. He could only watch as the well-spoken, well-dressed man turned, walked away.
And immediately crashed face forward on to the deck.
Anni emerged from behind a stack of containers swinging a length of wood in her hand. She dropped it, bent over the man, brought his arm sharply round, cuffed him.
‘Gotcha,’ she said. ‘You’re nicked, mate.’
‘Oh, very good … ’ The man was wriggling, trying to get up. Hurting himself even more in the process, but not stopping. ‘Just you wait, bitch … Do you know who I am?’
‘No sir, I don’t,’ said Anni. ‘But we’ll find out soon enough.’
‘I own this ship … and when I get up … I’ll take out your fucking eyeballs with my fingers … ’
‘Whatever.’
‘Bite your tongue out … ’ He wriggled some more. ‘Let … me … go … ’
Anni looked over at Mickey. ‘Give DI May a call, will you?’
‘You are in so much fucking trouble … ’ Fire burned in the man’s eyes. An ugly, twisted rage. ‘I’ll have your fucking jobs … I’ll take your fucking life … ’
‘That’s all well and good, sir,’ said Anni, tightening her grip on him. ‘Now can you tell us why two police officers have been kidnapped, brought on board and detained against their will?’
The man fell silent. Stopped moving.
‘I want my lawyer.’
Damn, thought Anni. The magic words. The custody clock had started ticking. She looked over at Mickey, who was still lying on the ground. ‘You OK?’
Mickey tried to sit up. Couldn’t. Flopped back down again. Winced from the pain. ‘What … d’you think?’
‘Chuck me your radio.’
It took a great deal of painful effort, but Mickey managed to send his radio sliding along the deck towards Anni. She picked it up and spoke into it without loosening her grip on Michael Sloane.
‘DI May, DC Hepburn here. We’ve apprehended a suspect who’s attacked DS Philips. He needs medical attention.’
DI May’s voice crackled back. ‘Good work, DC Hepburn. We’ll get that to him. And I was just about to call you,’ he said. ‘We’ve found them. Jessie and Deepak plus Helen Hibbert.’
‘They OK?’
