East of the City (14 page)

‘Keep walking. Take it steady.’

I did like he’d told me in the van, no faster or slower than normal. I wasn’t in danger, that’s what he’d said. But the closer I got to the phone box, the harder it was to believe that. I glanced over my shoulder. At the far end of the street a car turned in.

‘Do you see that?’

‘We’ve got it covered,’ Bill said. ‘Don’t go into the box till it’s past.’

I slowed, I wasn’t twenty yards from the phone box. The car came on down the street; its headlights washed over me. As it went by I saw children in the back seat, I told Bill that. Then I stopped and turned to watch as the car passed the van.

‘Don’t stop,’ Bill barked at me. ‘Get to the box.’

I started walking again.

It was one of those new boxes, blue, and I stopped outside it with my hand on the door. No turning back. I stepped in.

Bill said, ‘Right, what can you see?’

I glanced left and right through the glass, I’d never felt that exposed before.

‘Speak to me, Dog.’

‘Is that car gone?’

‘Forget the bloody car. Find the message. Look around you, what’s there?'

I turned to the phone, and the backing board. ‘Flyers,’ I said. 'There’s a whole pack of flyers stuck up. You know, call girls. Advertising.’ I looked around but that seemed to be it, just the flyers. I ran my eyes over them. ‘No, nothing. Do I come back to the van? Then my eyes stopped, my stomach turned over. ‘Hang on.’

Not a flyer but a white envelope, slotted into the rest so that it looked like a flyer. There was no picture of a naked lady in fishnet stockings, or even a phone number. Just two words.
Ian Collier.
I reached out and plucked the envelope free. 'There's a note for me.'

‘What’s it say?’

I turned the envelope over. Blank. Then I tore the thing open. There was a single page inside, a hand-drawn map photocopied onto the top half, and a route drawn in red ink. Underneath, there were instructions, I started to read them to myself.

Bill yelled, ‘Speak to me!’ His voice rasped in my ear.

‘It’s a map,’ I said. 'Instructions too. Listen. "Follow the route on the map. You are at the point marked R. Ward is at the point marked W. Proceed alone to the point marked W where the handover will be made. You have twelve minutes to reach W. If you fail to reach W within twelve minutes, or if anyone follows you from the phone box, Ward will be shot".’

I read the last bit again. Shot.

‘That’s it?’

‘Yeah,’ I said, then the phone rang. I looked up at it.

‘Answer it,’ Bill said; he must have heard it through my mike.

I picked up the receiver. Nothing. Then a man’s voice. 'The twelve minutes start now. And don’t bring the geezers in the van.’ Then a click as he hung up.

I told Bill word-for-word what the voice on the phone had said. There was a silence, it seemed to go on forever.

Finally Bill said, ‘Get out of the box, Dog. Follow the map. You aren’t on your own. Joey and Tim are out there with you. Get out of the box.’

Joey and Tim, real names; that reassured me somehow. Maybe Bill meant it to. Glancing at my watch I pushed the glass door open. Nine forty.

‘Move,’ Bill said.

Walking quickly away from the box and the van, I held the map up, taking my bearings. The van didn’t start up like I expected it to. ‘They’re bluffing,’ I said.

‘Concentrate on where you’re going. Read the map out to us. Where are you headed?’

‘I go left here.’ I crossed the road. Now the van started up behind me, but when I looked back I saw it swing around and drive away, and I slowed.

‘Keep bloody moving,’ Bill barked at me. ‘Tell us where you’re headed, where’s W?’

The van disappeared. I strained to hear its engine but the sound was lost in the traffic noise from up the main road. I was alone. I checked the map again, walking faster now, almost jogging.

‘There’s no street names,’ I told Bill, reading the map. ‘I keep heading this way then I do a sharp right and left and then I cross over.’

‘Cross over what?’

I studied the map. The red line stopped at the edge of what looked like a main road. It became a broken line, crossed over, then joined up again for a short way on the other side. The W was right where it ended.

‘I don’t know, some kind of highway?’ I said. ‘They won’t really shoot him, will they?’

There was a pause, then Bill said, 'That isn’t a highway. It’s the Thames.'

I peered into the darkness. Ahead there were lights, a boat passing on the river. The trip in the van had really thrown me. I bent over the mike. ‘W’s on the other side, just over the bridge.’

‘Yeah?’ Bill said, ‘And what bridge would that be?’

Confused, I checked my watch. Nine forty-four. I hurried on, then it dawned on me as I neared the river. We were in Greenwich. There is no bridge over the Thames at Greenwich. I looked up from the map to the river, and back to the map again. My heart was in my throat; I thought I’d blown it. I said, ‘The map’s wrong.’

Bill said, ‘It’s the tunnel. They want you to go through the tunnel.’ His voice was very even, controlled, as if he was working hard not to explode.

And then I saw it just ahead of me, the sign and the entranceway to the Greenwich pedestrian tunnel. I kept moving, on automatic pilot now. Once I went down into the tunnel no-one could follow me without being seen. And when I came up on the north side I’d be completely on my own, a sitting duck. At the entrance I stopped and turned. No Joey, no Tim. And no bloody van. Trying to sound calm, I said, ‘Do I go in?’

No answer.

‘Bill, are you there? For fuck’s sake.’

I heard the van then, revving hard as it swimg round a bend up the road. As it raced towards me I looked at my watch. Nine forty-five. Seven minutes to go.

The van pulled up, Bill shot out the door. He ran up to me with his hand out. ‘Show me the map.’

I gave it to him.

‘Shit,’ he said, studying it. ‘Shit.’

‘Do I go down there?’

He didn’t seem to hear me. He pushed the map back into my hands. ‘Once you’re in the tunnel, we’ll lose radio contact. We can’t follow you down there or they’ll kill Ward.’

‘They can see you with me now.’

‘The tunnel’s the filter. We’ll get a chopper up quick as we can. Remember, don’t hand over the bonds till you’ve got Ward as close as this. But don’t piss about. Once they’ve got the bonds, they’ll scarper. You sit tight with Ward.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Soon as you get out of the tunnel the other side, talk to us. Okay?’

Two men came jogging towards us along the embankment. Joey and Tim, the cavalry. They couldn’t help me now, not where I was going. Bill gave me a shove towards the tunnel entrance, saying, ‘Run.’

The stairs spiralled down, I was starting to sweat now. Immediately the hiss from the earpiece cut out. My shoes slapped quietly on each step, that was the only sound apart from my breathing. A smell of damp, and cold air on my face.

Down the last steps, and the tunnel opened out in front of me. A dimly lit tube it looked like, with no side passages and no places to hide. The floor was wet, and long stretches of the concrete wall were dark with damp. I set off, jogging now, checking my watch. Five minutes left. The bullet-proof vest was getting heavy. I found it harder to breathe. All that water pressing down, I imagined the walls cracking, water flooding in.

But Sebastian was out there somewhere, waiting for me. Waiting and praying.

I kept jogging till I ran out of puff, then I slowed and looked back. More than halfway along. I walked again, tried to jog. Security cameras pointing down at me, but was anyone watching? The walls seemed to hum, maybe a barge up on the river. I ran again. At nine forty-nine, I reached the far end of the tunnel. I took one look behind me. It was empty.

‘Jesus,’ I said, sucking in air. ‘Oh, Jesus.’

Then I grabbed the handrail and started up the stairs.

I came out into the night and looked skyward; but there was no sign of a chopper. Then I looked all around me, and down again at the map. ‘I’m out.’

No reply. Maybe Bill was busy calling in the chopper, or reinforcements, maybe some police. I stood still a moment, sucking in more air. There was a wall to my left alongside the path. I checked the map. W was just further on, a bit to the left, out along the road.

‘Bill,’ I hissed, tapping the earpiece. ‘Bill, I’m out.’

Nothing. I checked my watch. Eleven minutes, five seconds. So close to twelve minutes it just didn’t matter. I found myself walking down the path towards the road. At the end of the wall I stopped, leant against it and spat up phlegm.

‘Bill?’

Again, nothing.

It was just me. The only thing that stood between Sebastian and a bullet. I pushed off the wall and stepped out into the road and walked, turning, looking round.

I’d got about ten yards when a voice shouted, ‘Collier!’

Pivoting, I looked up the road. Forty yards away there was a parked car, and two men nearby. One had his hands behind his back, like he was handcuffed, and he had a bag tied over his head. The other wore a balaclava. When I stopped, the second one lifted his arm, pointing a shotgum at the bag.

‘Nearly time up,’ he called to me. ‘Mr Ward was gettin’ worried.’

Fixed to the spot, I stared at them. Less than an hour earlier I’d been fast asleep. A few days earlier I’d been writing business in the Room, dreaming about my penthouse, waiting for my promotion.

‘Come on!’

Sweat dribbled down my neck. I took two steps, then stopped. ‘Sebastian!’ I called.

The guy pushed the gun right up against the bag, still looking my way. ‘Bring it here!’

I wanted to. I wanted to walk right up there, hand him the bonds and get Sebastian. But something in his voice stopped me. He was scared. Maybe scared enough to shoot both of us - me and Sebastian - once he had the bonds. My muscles went rigid, like I was straining against some invisible leash.

‘Eleven minutes thirty!'

Swaying forward, I almost started walking, but then the kidnapper pointed the gun at me. Instinctively I turned and ran to the protective cover of a wall. The sweat wasn’t just dribbling now, it was pouring off me, I felt it running down the backs of my thighs.

‘You little shitbag! Bring it here or I’ll blow his fuckin’ brains out!’

‘Settle down!’ I shouted back. ‘I’ve got the bonds, for Christ’s sake. I’m alone. How about you stop waving that fucking gun all over the place.’ I wiped the sweat out of my eyes. The tunnel entrance wasn’t far but I couldn’t get over there, he’d have a clear shot at me the whole way. My head lolled back against the wall. I closed my eyes.

‘Five seconds, arsehole!’

‘Okay!’ I shouted. ‘Okay! I’m coming out.’ I put my hands out past the wall, waving the bonds, to show him I was unarmed. Then I stepped slowly into the road. ‘Sebastian? It’s Ian Collier -’

‘Shut the fuck up!’ The gun pointed at me, then up at the sky, then back at the bag. ‘Bring it here!’

But by now I was sure of it, he was scared witless. He could have done anything. ‘I’ll put the bonds down here,’ I said, keeping my eyes on him as I crouched and placed the bonds on the ground. ‘I’ll back off, you come and get them.’

‘Get here now, or he’s dead!’

I whispered urgently into the mike. No voice came back. I knew I couldn’t piss around any more, it would have to happen his way, whether I liked it or not. ‘Okay,’ I said, picking up the bonds and standing slowly. ‘All right.' I took a step, then stopped. ‘But you point that gun at the ground.’

‘You’re tellin’ me?’

‘If you want me to bring these bonds anywhere near you,’ I said, ‘point that gun at the ground.'

‘Listen shithead -’ he shouted, but then he stopped suddenly. I hadn’t heard anything, but I had the impression Sebastian had spoken to him. The gun swung left and right, then pointed at the ground. ‘Come on then!’

I cocked my head. I was sure now that I hadn’t imagined their brief exchange. ‘Sebastian,’ I called, ‘are you okay?’

‘Jesus fucking Christ,' the gumnan shrieked. ‘Get here, now!’ This time it wasn’t just fear in his voice, there was a real note of panic. And I knew then that there was something very wrong about this whole thing. Way wrong. I squinted at the pair of them across the darkness. ‘Sebastian?’

A shout came from the tunnel behind me, Bill's voice, I spun around. More sounds came up, voices, and men running. Then Bill appeared in the mouth of the tunnel. Right behind him the rest of the K and R team came bursting out, weapons ready.

I waved Bill and the others back. ‘No!’ I shouted.

I was helpless, the situation out of my hands now. But the gunman didn’t shoot Sebastian. He didn’t shoot me either; he leapt around to the passenger’s side of the car and scrambled in while Sebastian, hands miraculously freed, head-bag still on, jumped into the driver’s seat. The engine kicked into life, the tyres screeched as he pulled the head-bag off, and then they were gone.

I stared after them in disbelief. A second later Bill was beside me.

‘Have you got the T-bonds?’

‘Sebastian got in the car,’ I said, stunned. ‘Did you see that? He was driving.’

Bill grabbed me by the shoulders. ‘Did you give them the bloody bonds?’ Still staring down the empty road, I lifted my hand and showed the bonds to him. Bill laughed as he took them. ‘Good man,’ he said.

‘Bill.’ I faced him. ‘What the fuck is going on?’

The team joined us. Joey and Tim and the others gathered round. Bill showed them the bonds. Someone clapped me on the back. ‘Sebastian drove off with the fucking kidnapper,' I said.

Bill said, ‘I don’t think so, Ian.’ He folded the bonds and pocketed them. Then he jerked his head towards the tunnel and the team wandered back that way. They were talking together now, even laughing, the atmosphere of tension and fear completely gone. Bill spoke into his two-way, calling off the chopper. When he turned to the tunnel, I grabbed his arm.

‘You don’t think so?’

‘Game over, Ian. We just got the call.’ He pulled his arm free of me. He was sweating, not breathing normally yet, still charged with adrenalin. The pupils of his eyes were enormous. ‘That wasn’t Eddie Pike that got fried in Ward’s place,’ he told me. ‘It was his boss.’ Bill’s mouth twitched. ‘Your man, Sebastian Ward. He’s dead.’