I can't do that, my responsibility to the community says I can't. I couldn't stop them. So I realised I'd have to make them stop each other. Kill each other. Wipe each other off the face of the fucking earth. That's why I tipped Plummer off about Connelly's shipment; I knew he'd take it because he was greedy. I knew if he took it Connelly would never stand for it. I knew there would be war, and there would have been. I would have won. The fucking law would have won for a change.' He sucked in a deep breath. 'Well, now it's all over. Now you're not tied to him anymore. You're free.'
'Am I supposed to thank you?' she said softly.
'Perhaps,' he said, smiling thinly.
'Why did you have to do this to Jim?' she wanted to know.
'Plummer set him up, not me.'
'And if Plummer hadn't?'
Gregson shrugged.
'Then I'd have got rid of him some other way,' he said.
'You're insane,' she said quietly.
'The whole fucking world is insane,' he said wearily.
'What about me? What happens to me now? You've told me everything. I know about you and what you've done. You're the evil one. You would have let dozens of men kill each other. You let Scott die for no reason. And I know it all.'
'Who's going to believe you?' he said, smiling.
'No one,' she said quietly.
'You're mine when I want you now,' Gregson told her.
'And there isn't a thing you can do about it.' He smiled.
'No,' she said. 'I suppose you're right. No one's going to believe me, are they?'
'You're mine, Carol,' he said mockingly.
'I don't have a choice, do I?'
'No,' he told her.
She picked up the.357 lying nearby, steadied herself and fired twice.
Both bullets hit Gregson in the chest. As he fell she got to her feet and put two more into him.
The hammer finally slammed down on an empty chamber.
Carol continued to pull the trigger, looking down at the motionless, bloodied corpse of the policeman.
'All right, drop it.'
The voice boomed through the flat as the first of the armed policemen entered, pistols trained on Carol. She smiled thinly and dropped the gun.
'Jesus Christ,' one of the men murmured, looking round at the carnage.
Carol felt strong hands grab her. She felt lifeless, unable to move; only her eyes, it seemed, were functioning. She looked down at Gregson then at Scott.
Words drifted to her through a haze that seemed to have enveloped her brain. It was as if she were watching herself from outside, through other eyes. The words continued;
'… four dead…'
'… Maybe she killed them all…'
'… Tell his wife…' Two of the men were kneeling beside Gregson, checking for any signs of life.
One of them looked up at Carol. This time, the words did seem to penetrate the haze.
'Shooting a policeman,' he said angrily. 'You'll get life for this.'
Carol looked across at Scott's dead body.
'You'll get life for this,' she heard again as she was ushered out of the room.
'… life…'
She smiled thinly.
ONE HUNDRED AND NINE
The needle on the petrol gauge was touching empty, Finn noticed with alarm. Nevertheless he kept his foot pressed down on the accelerator of the Citroen, glancing up ahead to see, to his relief, that Dexter too was slowing down.
There was a road of a kind up ahead, a badly tarmacked track that separated the fields from a large house built of dark stone.
Dexter was guiding the Sierra up the short driveway of this house.
Finn saw the doctor clamber out of the car and head for the front door, letting himself in, slamming the door behind him.
Finn screeched up the drive behind him and stood on the brakes. He ran to the front door and banged on it several times, shouting Dexter's name. When there was no answer he turned and looked into the Sierra, noticing that Dexter had left the keys hanging from the ignition. Finn pulled open the door and dropped the keys into his pocket, then made his way slowly to the side of the house.
He found a pathway leading down the side of -the building, its entrance guarded by a carefully cut arch of privet. Finn pushed open the gate and walked through, moving briskly around to the back.
The large house towered above the DS as he peered through windows into the kitchen then, moving along, into what he took to be a study of some kind. As he passed the kitchen door he tried the handle but found that it was locked. A long, immaculately kept garden stretched out behind the house.
He saw several objects lying on the lawn.
Toys.
There was a doll and a small yellow ball. A skipping rope.
Finn picked up the doll, looking into its lifeless eyes for a moment, then dropped it back onto the grass and headed back towards the kitchen door.
There were panels of glass in it.
He broke one with his elbow then reached through and turned the key in the lock, stepping inside.
He called Dexter's name as he moved through towards the sitting room.
'Give it up, Dexter,' he shouted. 'There's nowhere else to run now.' He moved through the sitting room. 'If it isn't me it'll be someone else. I've only got to make one call and this place will be swarming with uniforms in less than five minutes.'
He moved out into the hall.
'Don't make things any worse,' he called. 'Chuck it in, now.'
A sound above him.
Finn looked up towards the landing.
The stairs were directly ahead of him. To his left was the door of the study, to the right the front door.
Finn wondered why Dexter hadn't just continued driving in the first place, why…
Another noise from upstairs.
He began to climb the stairs, one hand trailing along the bannister.
He was half-way up the stairs now, glancing around, his eyes always returning to the head of the flight.
Another ten steps and he'd be there.
He could hear the sound of his blood roaring in his ears.
'Dexter,' he called.
Silence.
'There's no way out,' he continued.
